Love, Nicole

Celebrating Our Bodies As Women

By Emily Wierenga

I’m used to apologizing for them.

“I’m sorry about my wide Dow hips,” I say as my friend slides into the sled beside me, both of us with babies on our knees and toddlers between our legs, children left and right and me voicing contempt for the body that bore them.

And then I correct myself even as the snowmobile starts and we move down the track of snow. “I mean, I’m sorry about my beautiful birthing hips,” I say, and my friend laughs. Nods.

And it’s a start. I’m beginning to speak in love about myself. It’s not perfect, but I’m not either, and God is and he is making new everything about me, spirit and body, even as I get older. because I’ve invited him in. I’ve invited him into my heart, and into my eyes. I’ve invited him into my soul and into my mouth.

Because becoming a new creation is actually pretty literal. It doesn’t mean feeling new. No, it means becoming new. It means God taking our old natural instincts and replacing them. It means him breathing spirit and life into our vision and our speaking and our thinking.

I have a lot of days where I barely look in the mirror because I’m so busy looking into the faces of my children. I don’t have time to look at my reflection, and yet my children always think I’m beautiful. “Do you see the way Kasher looks at you?” Trent says. “With the utmost adoration.”

And my boys see me at my physical worst: at my sweats and bathrobe, messy hair and sleep-worn eyes worst. They smell my coffee breath and my unwashed body and they snuggle closer. They keep their hands on my shoulder even as they play because they don’t want to lose contact with me.

Our depth of relationships, with ourselves, with our children, and with our creator, define our beauty, because relationships are eternal. They give us meaning and value and worth. The world wants us to think that appearance defines beauty because it can profit from that philosophy. It can’t profit from something intangible, like love. Only we can.

So I’m trying to speak kindly about my beautiful Dow hips, to stop apologizing for my existence. Because this body gave birth to two boys, and it gives birth to marriage every day, and it bears spiritual life too.

I love my hips. I love my lips. I love my life. Not because of who I am but because of who lives in me. And He is beautiful.

***

I’m giving away a hard-cover copy of my new book today, Mom in the Mirror: Body Image, Beauty and Life After Pregnancy, co-authored by Dr. Dena Cabrera, and foreword by supermodel Emme.

Here’s an excerpt from the book:

Giving birth produces life in more than one sense. It’s the baby powder, milky-breathed spirit found in the softest limbs you’ve ever felt, and it’s the respect a man feels for his wife as he watches her give up her body for another.

And it’s the deep-rooted soul satisfying feeling of knowing you were born for more than the mirror. That you were born to see the face of God in your child, and to know, you yourself are a miracle.

I want you to have this book! Tell me ONE thing that you love about yourself, and you’ll be entered into the drawing!

Otherwise, you can order it through the book’s website, here: www.mominthemirrorbook.com.

Emily Wierenga is a mom to two beautiful boys, wife to a handsome math teacher, and author of Chasing Silhouettes: How to Help a Loved One Battling an Eating Disorder (www.chasingsilhouettes.com) and Mom in the Mirror: Body Image, Beauty and Life After Pregnancy (www.mominthemirrorbook.com). To learn more, please visit www.emilywierenga.com.

So I’m thankful that I’ve grown up a bit since the post I wrote about hating Mother’s Day and although I still agree with the sentiment, I’m finding that one of the best ways for me to feel discontent and unsettled is to focus on the things that–make me discontent and unsettled. So instead of thinking about forced gratitude and the commercialization of this “holiday”, I want to take it light, to take it easy.

There is enough pain and sorrow in this world to keep us unhappy for all the days of our lives. But with a little discipline, we can have eyes to see beyond all of the pain into something beautiful.

Today is a day I can focus on the uncertainty and unknown of my future, of my children’s future. I can hone in with precision on the multitude of things I can be anxious about. I can look into my beautiful daughter’s innocent eyes and project forward and get scared. I can think about my son’s tendency toward introspection and worry I’ll miss the chance to allay his fears. I observe my youngest’s propensity for deception and I worry that he won’t outgrow it. I can find a way to worry about my dog if I try hard enough.

Or.

Or I can choose joy. I can take it light. I can lean into my freedom, knowing that there is a Presence in this world and He is God and He calls himself Father and he chooses to use the word “daughter” to describe me. I can grip onto the truth that He has a kingdom, and his kingdom is here, and that I’m safe in it. I can trust that his love is extravagant and that He’s given me so many gifts. I can stare tragedy and pain and worry and uncertainty right in the face and laugh. I can claim this victory cry: “If God is for us, who can be against us?”

I can rest on this promise, “He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.”

I can know this to be true, “nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

So no matter what trouble this world brings, no matter what trouble I face inside of me or around me, I can take it light because the greatest of all my needs is already taken care of–my slate is wiped clean, my life is secure, my future is known, and my freedom is here and now and no kind of evil, trouble or concern can take that away.

So I laugh a little freer this Mothers’ Day. I worry a little less about the future. I am learning that complaining won’t get me anywhere. I’m learning that God’s timing really is perfect. And I’m discovering that life is much better when lived lighthearted and hopeful.

I caught this video today on Facebook and it inspired this post. It made me laugh out loud with delight, and in inspired me. May we all learn to take life a little easier–and find time to dance, no matter when & where the opportunity presents itself.

“You are so busy….”

“Wow, you are busy….”

It seems like all of my conversations in the past few months have started like this. And the truth is, I am busy. I’ve been writing for some different publications because I love it and God seems to have some things for me to write about. I have a job that I love with a new program that I’m starting that keeps me up at night with excitement. I’ve been traveling a lot. There’s my kids’ lives too, sports and school and all the ups and downs of childhood. And my sweet hubs-I like him too, and we like spending time together. Many demands, many directions. I’m busy.

But I think you are too. My busy just shows, because much of my work is public. But my guess is that you are busy too. You are busy with decisions, every day. Maybe you are in that toddler-busy stage, where every day is an accomplishment when you avoid the emergency room or get your child to nap.

Maybe you are in the twentysomething-busy stage, where you are navigating dating and bills and spiritual life and roommates and decisions. Maybe you are graduating. Maybe you are starting school. Maybe you are caring for an aging parent or supporting your spouse while they pursue their dream. Maybe you are busy getting healthy and working through some junk that you know it’s time to deal with. We are all busy, with all kinds of things.

And busy isn’t always bad. Busy is a season, like spring is a season. Spring is absolutely bustling with busy life. Flowers burst into bloom and trees bud with flagrance and baby birds warble with song and inchworms practically float in mid-air. All of creation squawks, sings and shouts, “I’m busy!”

And just as spring will slow into summer, so our lives slow too. We do not live in perpetual spring, nor should we. So when I’m in a busy season, I try to always protect my time with the Lord, a deep quiet center in the midst of activity. I seek and listen to wise counsel (Proverbs 13:10), from my husband and from those who love me and have committed to walk with me in life. I don’t do it perfectly (Lord knows, literally), but I do try.

Sometimes I think we try to fight busyness with less activity. But God has gifted each of us with a mission and has called us to do that work with all of our heart. That means there are times when life may feel very full. We may be tempted to live to a perfect standard, to compete to be the best. We may be scared to let go of things even when they are “out of season” in our lives. But let us not confuse hard work when we are abounding in our gifting with frantic activity fueled by fear.

So, yeah, I’m busy. So are you. I’m scared to fail, and I bet, so are you. I desire to live an intentional life where I make the right choices about the right things with the right people–and so do you. So let’s love each other deeply and extend each other the gift of encouragement. Let’s remind one another to “shine on” whether that’s in the home, in the workplace or in a new venture. And let’s remember that is God that calls us, that grows us through whatever season we are in, whether fruitful or barren. Let us remember that God is interested in our growth toward Him, more than anything, and because he is faithful, “he will do it.” (1 Thess 5)

So tonight, my sisters and brothers, I pray you rest from your activity long enough to know that God is the “I am,” who goes before you and walks beside you. He will lead you into places of abundance and places of rest, and he will steady you with his strong right hand. When you need his shelter, he provides it, a safe refuge from the storm of life’s demands and deadlines and little deaths. And after he has refreshed you with his Spirit and his peace, he sends you back out, to live out the calling: “whatever your hand finds to do, do with all your might.” (Ecc 9:10)

We are powerful.

We have the ability to think and to plan. We have the ability to surprise. We have the ability to brood and to ruminate, to despair. We have the capacity for violence within us, and the power to carry it out on a large scale.

We live in a world where there is darkness.

There is darkness. There is evil. We cannot deny it anymore. We cannot watch videos of little girls being sold for sex in every corner of our world and men dragging women through the streets in Egypt and bombs going off at marathons and people walking into colleges and shooting and deny darkness.

We are not essentially good. We are essentially powerful. We have a powerful capacity for love, compassion and rescue in us. We also have a powerful capacity for selfishness, violence and murder.

Jesus said that the eye is the lamp of the body. “If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!” (Matthew 6:22-23)

The Greek word for “eye” here can be used as a metaphor, meaning “the faculty of knowing.” You see, Jesus didn’t say we were good. He said we were powerful. Our “faculty of knowing” is our ability for great good and for great darkness.

Right here, in 2013, there is a “god of this age”.

There is evil. The “god of this age” drags many people to destruction. The “god of this age” blinds people to the truth, and we are lulled into believing that people are seeking peace and love first, that everyone is essentially good. The “god of this age” lulls people to destruction, where they lose their way, walking in darkness and believing the whispers of the dark, of despair, of destruction.

We must wake up to the truth. The truth is, there is light and there is darkness in this world. The light will always outshine the darkness. But darkness is real. We do not preach ourselves. We do not preach the power of our own “goodness” as if it’s just something that we are born with. We preach Jesus Christ as Lord, Jesus whose name means “he saves.” We talk about Jesus in this way because he is the light that shines into the darkness–the darkness of our own hearts and the darkness of this world. He is the one who can make light shine into our hearts. The light of Christ gives us the ability to hope into the darkness. To shine into the darkness. To pray for those who commit evil, for those who have succumb to the darkness around us and who have lost hope.

So let us not despair in these dark times. Let us remember that we have a treasure in our fragile jars of clay–these bodies that we possess for a little while, before we see Jesus–face to face. Let us remember that if Jesus is in us, how great is the light that we can shine. We are not good. We are powerful. So we do not overcome evil with evil in these days. We overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:21). Press on. Hope into this darkness. Love into this evil. Confess your sins. Choose peace in your relationships. Shine on. Shine on. Shine on.

Some truth on light and darkness:

Matthew 5:16

“Let your light shine before men, so that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.” –Jesus

John 12:46

“I have come into this world as a light, that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.” –Jesus

2 Corinthians 4:4-9

“The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. 6 For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

1 John 2:11

“But whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks around in the darkness. He does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded him.”

One minute you are blowdrying your hair or checking your email or microwaving popcorn and then the next thing you know, poof, silence. darkness.

But a brownout is less obvious, less intense. A brownout is the phenomona of a slow internet connection because too many people are trying to access the line. It’s like production down, not off.

A spiritual blackout is unmistakeable. It’s the leader who unexpectedly quits, or the person who experiences a grave moral failure. These are obvious.

A spiritual brownout is subtle. It’s the leader who presses on, but with a low simmering resentment about the opportunities that were missed or the ways they’ve been passed over. It’s the person who finds their escape in all kinds of unhealthy but private ways. Spiritual brownouts steal your joy. They often come after seasons of high productivity and “spiritual highs.” A spiritual brownout is a waving red flag on your journey. If you heed the warning signs, a spiritual brownout can be an opportunity for a much-needed soul correction. Emphasis on if.

We cannot rush out of a spiritual brownout with more activity. You cannot replenish your soul with the spiritual equivalent of a power nap and a Red Bull any more than you can rush out of infection by taking one dose of antibiotic. The only way out of a spiritual brownout is through the waiting and the resting of stillness and solitude, a relentless abiding in Jesus Christ. If you don’t put the brakes on, God will. The brakes for you might look like time alone, or good rhythms of sleep. It might look like less production and more presence. It might look like stepping away from the Instagram and the email and the churning, driving need to be productive. It might mean a morning alone, a walk alone, a day alone. It might mean an appointment with a counselor or a spiritual director.

As finite human beings, we would do well to remember that our perfect example of humanity–Jesus Christ–lived within limits. Jesus walked away, practiced solitude, rested and prayed. He chose to disappoint people and turn away from the crowds so that he could find his perspective and power by abiding with his Heavenly Father. Even Jesus couldn’t meet every demand. It is at best foolish to think that we can exceed our own limits. It is at worst, egotistical and prideful to believe that we can press through without rest.

My friend and pastor says “there is a speed limit to the soul.” What speed are you revving at today?

These three days are moments in time that believers across the world claim changed world history–and our own history–forever.  That’s what it’s really all about. It’s not about good morals or ways to live a pretty-good life. It’s really about these three days and the historical reality of what happened on these days.

On this day, the day of remembering Jesus’ painful death on the cross, to which he was heard claiming “Father, you gave me authority over all people that I might give eternal life.” That’s what Jesus claimed. So I urge you to ask yourself,

do I believe this?

If you follow the crowds, like the crowds that followed him when he walked the earth, you are likely to follow him one day and desert him the next. Perhaps if you follow the crowds here in Richmond or in the south, you are likely to go to church this weekend because it’s the thing that people do. If you aren’t down south, maybe this weekend is just like any other, and these things about Jesus just feel irrelevant to your life.

But can I ask you one question? Have you considered the claims of Christ? Do you believe he was a real person? Have you investigated what he did, or who he says that he is? Millions of people over the centuries have given their entire lives to the claims of this one man. They testify that they have actually encountered spiritual life in a way that’s as real as the words you read on this screen. Millions and millions of people. So I urge you to ask yourself,

do I believe this?

Or perhaps the better question is, “have I even considered this?”

Many of us claim a belief system of some sort–a world with a distant God and good people, perhaps, or maybe a benevolent and jolly God who isn’t about punishment, or for that matter, justice. But in this age of slippery morality, in a time where adults justify all sorts of evil behavior, a time of rampant violence, it is difficult to maintain the belief system that we are all good and it will all turn out just fine. Perhaps if you closely examine what you believe, you may find some holes in your reasoning, holes that get wider as you know more about the world and about its evils.

At the end of the day, the suffering of Jesus was because he claimed that this was the only way that we could all find life. He claimed he had the way to the fullest expression of life, of life here on earth and life in eternity. He claimed he could forgive sin. He often spoke words of conviction and comfort into people’s hearts with astonishing accuracy. He read people’s hearts with authority and affection. And I believe he reads your heart the same way. So I’m asking you, my friends, to merely consider the claims of Christ. Don’t relegate him to the folklore file in your brain, alongside of the Tooth Fairy and gnomes. Don’t mix him up with ideas of being a life coach or a buddy or a pretty good teacher.

If you have that little niggling sense in your heart right now, even as you read this, I urge you to just take one more step. Maybe you have a million objections already. Maybe you are already thinking about gay marriage and the irrelevant church and Catholic priests. But this isn’t about all of that, at least right now. It’s about this historical Jesus. It’s not about what your grandma or your favorite musician or your elementary school teacher think about Jesus, it’s about what you think of Jesus.

What if he is who he says he is? What if there’s more to this world than a pretty-good life, or a paycheck, or a retirement villa in Florida? What if the spiritual life is real? Would you be willing to consider that?

You could pick up that bible on your shelf and start with the book of John. It’s about halfway in and it’s a good read about who Jesus really said that he was. If you haven’t read it before, you may be surprised to find out how Jesus treats people, and church. You may be surprised to find out what he says about us, and what he says about himself.

And if you are here in Richmond, I’d love to invite you to the Carpenter Center on Sunday. We are having services at 9:15 and 11:15. Just come. No one will act weird or be weird to you, you’ll just blend in with everyone else.  You can just come and see. I want you to know, my friends, that my life completely changed when I began to believe in the claims of Jesus. My heart is as different as a barren desert and a flourishing garden because of Jesus. Jesus is real to me and over the years, I’ve really fallen for him. He–his Way–makes the world make sense. He makes my life make sense.  So can I ask you to consider just one question, if you haven’t?

….what if?

And so it was another Monday, snow day, no school day, and my dear hubs always has to work Mondays so it’s never a “yay family day” it’s just another day where I feel the pressure of lots to do, and I’m home again.

And I dragged out the snow clothes again, and dragged on the eight gloves and eight boots, and I was not very happy, but out we went. And we attempted to sled in the mud and find the fun in the late-March snow flurry that cancels school, and I looked up at the sky and another dreary winter-spring day and I thought.

Bleh.

And then my oldest made the mistake of complaining to me about the size of his boots. And from somewhere deep inside of me came the voice of a parent, the voice passed down from generation to generation, and I actually said

when I was your age I didn’t even have snow boots.

I said it. I used the “when I was your age” line. I reached back into my ancestry and pulled out the quintessential mantra of parenthood, the overused, not quite true, tired line. And then I started talking about all the things they had, the sleds where I had cookie sheets, the boots where I had tennis shoes. I pulled out the cork on that spot in my spirit and started ranting. Ranting, I tell you.

The rant continued as I marched them back to the car and back home, where they pulled off their muddy pants and boots and gloves and I called a meeting.

And I thought about my own complaining heart that morning, complaining about the weather, about the things I needed to do. Complaining about being out of control. And I realized that even the slightest wrench in my schedule sends me into a tirade of complaint, a dramatic inner monologue about how tough it is. And I looked at my children and I knew that the same complaining spirit in me is the one that is in them, and that this is the deep everyday sin.

Complaint, whether it’s about snow boots or Mondays or job pressures, whether it’s about a life you’ve always wanted or a life you’ve never wanted–no matter how you look at it, it’s a problem.

Complaining is the soul’s protest at God’s providence. Complaining says “I know how this should be, God….so why aren’t you doing it?” Complaining puts us in the driver seat and gives us permission to be discontent, unhappy, controlling and resentful. When the Israelites started complaining about the food they had to eat in the desert, God punished them. It wasn’t the food that was the problem, it was their consistent and persistent attitude of taking his provision for granted, of taking what was holy and making it profane. And it all started with complaining about food.

And it starts with me complaining about Mondays, or snow days, or snow boots.

So I sat my kids down and I sat my own heart down and we all had a talk. I told them that my job was to grow healthy adults, and to be a healthy adult, they would need to learn the discipline of contentment, the practice of gratitude, and the intentional act of servanthood.

We looked up the words and came up with these definitions:

contentment means being happy in your mind and your heart with things just as they are.

gratitude is a heart of thankfulness, ready to receive and return kindness.

servanthood is the practice of putting others first.

And I was reminded again that no one is born with these traits bubbling out of them. They must be intentionally cultivated. I do not have them in me without a constant reminder, nor should I expect my children to. So I challenged them, to come up with a gratitude list: 100 things worth celebrating.

And we found so much more.

#11: animals (not bees).

#91: Dad’s lasagna

#54 trampolines

#17 snuggling. #80 ramen noodles #8 church #50 roasting marshmallows #96 emailing

It was a list full of wonder in the little moments in life, in the absolute landslide of blessings that bombard our world, and it was a reminder of God’s holiness, his provision, and his presence.

#29 snowdays.

And just like that, the spirit of complaint was gone.

The first time I met Jenni Catron I thought she should be writing a book.

It was rare for me to find a woman leader in ministry to connect with–and Jenni wasn’t just any woman.  When we chatted, she was warm, wise, and straightforward, and she was doing the kind of work that I love to do–ministry and leadership. (She’s the executive director of the awesome Crosspoint Church in Nashville, TN).

We grabbed a few minutes together between conference sessions and I was struck by how, despite her busy schedule, she wanted to take time to hear me out. Then I thought, “here’s a woman worth following.”

So it comes as no surprise to me that Jenni has teamed up with another great female leader, President and CEO of MOPS International, Sherry Surratt, to write an intensely practical book for women leaders entitled, “Just Lead: a no whining, no complaining, no nonsense practical guide for women leaders in the church.”

And that’s exactly what “Just Lead” delivers. Here’s some of my favorite lines from the beginning of the book:

Sherry talks about her bossiness from a young age, which I LOVED because I’ve often said about my own daughter, “today’s boss is tomorrow’s leader.” (and ahem, I’ve been known to be a bit of a ‘boss’ myself). Sherry talks about her own learning curve of moving from “miss bossy” to influential leader…and how that required her embracing the truth that leading also means growing and learning. That’s words I need to hear!

Jenni explains her own growth in leadership as the desire to steward her influence. “Leaders make life better. They believe and develop. They identify giftedness and call it out. Leaders leave the world and others better as a result of their presence, and they influence those they love.”

If you want to hear more about “Just Lead,” check out Sherry and Jenni here on video.

I promise you’ll be glad you picked up this book. With a steady dose of inspiration, Just Lead doesn’t stop with telling women that you can be leaders–it shows women in practical, straightforward wisdom how to truly live that out. If you need confidence in your call, if you are wrestling with thorny issues of influence, conflict or communication, pick up Just Lead!

And check out Jenni and Sherry’s blogs–great connection points for helpful axioms for leadership!

There’s an earnestness about the twenties. It inspires me.

They are honest. They are straining hard to figure out life, pulling against the tethers of youth, wanting to find their passion and their purpose.

They are frustrated and they are energetic. They are confident and they are doubtful. They often stand at the crossroad of life and want help making the next move. And the moves they make matter–the little steps of independence, the jobs they take, the friends they keep, the relationships they pursue. They are working on themselves. They are seeking. And they are asking great questions.

So of course I love them. And if you are one of them, you might want to check out a couple of things:

#1: My friend Renee has pulled together a conference for twentysomethings with some great leaders & teachers. And it’s FREE. And it’s ONLINE. And it’s on MARCH 21st at 8pm EST! You basically have no excuse for why you wouldn’t get involved in this. So go HERE and gather some friends and some food and your favorite laptop and start some great conversations. You’ll be glad you did.

#2: I wrote a recent article for Relevant on Wanderlust. It focuses on how we can decide what God wants for us next. So if you need to take stock of whether it’s time to quit, you might want to check it out.

#3: My buddies at ibelieve and Crosswalk just posted a new video, where I talk about discovering your passions in ministry in your twenties:

iBelieve.com: What is the best way to get involved with my church? – Nicole Unice from ibelievedotcom on GodTube.

#4: I fasted from makeup during Lent a year ago, and it’s inspired some chat. If you are thinking about the big and small ways you are tethered to some things, it might help you. Read about it here or here.

#5: I love answering questions from twentysomethings. So if you are one and I can help, shoot me an email (nicole AT takeheartministry DOT com) or tweet. I’ll do my best to answer you via video-blog in the coming weeks.

And another thing:

You should check out Lillian Daniels over at Relevant. She talks about this whole “I love Jesus but I don’t like the church” thing, and she uses (gasp!) Mumford and Sons to do it. I really enjoyed her thoughts and plan on picking up her book as well.

This video from Transitions Global is just really amazing. I got the chance to meet James & Athena Pond this weekend and can’t wait to hear more from them. One thing James said just punched me in the stomach with truth: “we treat our girls [the girls coming out sex trafficking] the way we would treat our daughters if they had been through this.” Global Transitions offers top-notch counseling and aftercare in Cambodia and they are doing awesome work. Check it out here and consider sponsoring a girl through their Every Girl Project.

TO BE FREE – Serey’s Story (Cambodia) from Abolition International on Vimeo.

 
Well, that’s as all over the place as I am! Much love my friends….

“…at the time I was struggling as a first time mom at age 35 and staying home with my baby after years in the professional world….and you said to me “How is it going?”  I think I must have given you a look of exasperation because you then said “It’s difficult isn’t it?”  This was the first time in my 3 months of being a mom that someone acknowledge how difficult it truly is being a mom. Up the that point people just looked at me funny when I described how much trouble I was having adjusting and I felt like a freak.”

I think there is no greater crippling lie than believing that easy = good. But that’s what we hear, messages from everywhere. I love cooking shows but I often find myself wanting to yell at Giada, with her perfect hair and skin, her nails clean and manicured, I want to yell at that image “your food looks great but I know it was hard to make it! Where’s the prep cook chopping all those perfectly squared vegetables? Where’s the busboy cleaning up that truckload of dishes you just created? Where’s the nanny holding your baby so she’s not gripping at your knees and whining for a cookie?? COME ON GIADA THIS ISN’T REAL LIFE!”

I have serious issues, but you already knew that.

But when I get emails like this, I am reminded that these are issues we all face, starting with this bold lie that slips down into the deepest parts of our souls:

if it’s good it should be easy. Therefore, when it’s not easy, it’s not good. Hard is bad. Hard means something is wrong with me. Hard means I am a “freak,” like my email friend says.

We are all looking for easy. We are looking for peace. For rest. For security. We chase one thing after the next, thinking that around this next bend of life’s path we will find that place that is good and easy.

But here’s what I know. There is almost no time in life where good equals easy.

When I’ve failed it’s been hard, and when I’ve succeeded it’s been hard.

Sometimes it’s really hard to work and sometimes it’s really hard to rest.

Sometimes it’s really hard to be with people and sometimes it’s really hard to be alone.

Sometimes it’s really hard to be passionate and sometimes it’s really hard to not care.

Sometimes it’s really hard to be disciplined and sometimes it’s hard to be lazy. Wait. It’s always easy to be lazy. Except then it’s hard to be lazy because we end up not liking ourselves very much.

It’s hard to say no. It’s hard to say yes. It’s hard to stay content. It’s hard to change. It’s hard to love well. It’s hard to love ourselves well. It’s hard to grow.

But if we would stop thinking hard = bad, we’d be a lot better off.

My email friend ended her note explaining what happened when she accepted that hard is OK:

“…I let myself relax a bit and enjoy the downs of being a mom with the ups… I am feeling privileged to be chosen as her mother instead of disappointed and overwhelmed.”

When we stop thinking that easy = good and hard = bad, everything changes.

I love this encouragement from Paul to the younger Timothy, words that mean as much to me now as they meant to Timothy then:

“But you – keep your eye on what you’re doing; accept the hard times along with the good; keep the Message alive; do a thorough job as God’s servant.” 2 Timothy 4:5

Steady. Sure. Lively. Persistent. Press on, knowing that hard doesn’t need to be bad, and in fact, it often creates something very, very good.