The Diet Dreamer

So go ahead and dream. See the weight loss commercials and ads on TV and online and even hear them on the radio… go ahead and dream. Dream that those pounds will just drip off by some special pill or magic cleanse or even surgery. Hey, I can talk. I have been there. My history of weight loss (and weight gain) is a long one and it starts as early as first grade and all the way to now.

My earliest weight loss was in 7th grade. I lost 30 pounds from jumping on our backyard trampoline. I was convinced that if I jumped 1000 times on the trampoline that I would lose one whole pound. I did this and lost weight. I was proud.

I gained it back and then some. By the time I graduated from high school, I was so ashamed of my weight. After years of ridicule and teasing, I allowed food to comfort every pain from words that sliced, but this only made my predicament worse.

I lost 80 pounds in Bible School. I constricted. I constricted all carbohydrates. Let me tell you, that was a quick loss. I lost these pounds in a matter of months, but it was so limited that it could have been considered borderline eating disorder. I was fitting in smaller clothes and I felt good. I got my hair permed for a long, curly head of hair. I felt beautiful. I even started to jog.

I gained the weight back, and you guessed it, and even more. I was now at my top weight. With a herniated disc and while attending Northwestern College in St. Paul, I was huge and utterly embarrassed of my size. And yet, not a single pound stopped me from meeting the love of my life. I dyed my hair dark brown and wore spanx often. I tried to lose weight, but I was so lost in my comfort eating that I couldn’t cope without the loving arms of food.

When falling in love and thinking you may have found your future spouse, health comes in conversation. My hubby is a healthy guy. He is thin and likes to eat healthy and be healthy and just be active. Me, well, I love the concept, but I was never sure how to live that life. I obviously had moments in the past of healthiness. Exercising. Jogging. Jumping. Watching calories and carbohydrates and just learning about food, but I could never make it a lifestyle change.

I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome in 2003, which pretty much meant my body could not breakdown sugars and having babies was fairly slim. The infertility part hurt me the most.

I dropped to a feel-good-never-been-that-small-since-middle-school weight after I married Tyler. This definitely took some help from dieticians and doctors…those who know me best know my story. But I lost a good, healthy amount of weight.

I became pregnant. I gained 50 pounds. Tosten was born. I lost 30 pounds.

Months later, I became pregnant again. Gained 30 pounds. Olivea was born. I lost 15 pounds.

If you’re doing the math, I never lost all my weight from either of my pregnancies. Breastfeeding isn’t the answer. Don’t be deceived. Breastfeeding alone will not make you lose weight…but breastfeeding with a healthy lifestyle will.

So here I am again, doing the weight loss thing! Those ads lure me. I even see friends selling cleanses and even some friends that lost large amounts of weight with special pills and I will admit, my body salivates for such an easy solution. But something reeks. Something doesn’t seem right.

I am almost four months postpartum and I am happy to report I have lost all Olivea’s pregnancy weight. I guess I learned from Tosten’s womb-time and decided not to waste a moment. If I am breastfeeding, which I am, I’m not going to waste those extra milk-making calories! Now to lose the weight I carried with Tosten…I’m almost there, too! I am rejoiced to report that I only have ten more pounds left from his pregnancy until I am at my pre-pregnancy weight! Woot! Woot!

Do you want to know my secret? Message me privately and I’ll tell you…ha! Just kidding! My secret is easy…Jesus!

I brought Jesus into it. Do you know that every time I reached for that Snickers or cookie or bowl of ice cream, if I really stopped to think, I realized I was trying to fill a deeper need with food. I was craving something, and all my life I thought I could fill that longing with something that filled my belly, but that never truly satisfied. Nothing of this earth can really satisfy that bottomless yearning…not even the love of my favorite person in the world, Tyler Lee!

The more I delve into this lifestyle of letting God fill that void and even allowing him to curb my appetite (for food), the more I realize this wasn’t just a surface issue that I had to deal with, but it was a huge stumbling block for me. This weight issue was just big enough to suffocate all other possible fruits that I could produce. It stopped growth. It stopped my dependence on Christ. It stopped any change and only held me captive and on a leash. Fear took hold and I allowed myself to live a mediocre life…a life of defeat…a life that is only a shadow of what God had intended for me.

I know I’m not alone out there. I know this is a leash we, as women, allow ourselves to be tied to. We do this to ourselves. We let the devil keep us stuck!

Even if you surrender these longings to Christ and the weight doesn’t fall off, don’t let that stop you! It isn’t about weight! It is about taking that longing and giving it to Jesus! It is giving Him what He yearns for and what He deserves! There will come a point that you crave Him so much that the desire of all those foods that damage won’t seem as tempting and just by seeking the right things, health will follow…if not in the body right away, at least where it matters, in your being.

So go ahead, sisters, dream! But dream about something more real! Dream of sinking your chompers into the Book of Life instead of cardboard food or some magic pill. Drink from the One that will satisfy more than any earthly food or beverage could possibly fill…Jesus Christ satisfies.

Oh, and 30 pounds and counting in only a little over two months. And that, my dear ones, is by filling my stomach with something that truly fills. Praise Jesus! He is the only reason this can be the truth!

Reality is Better

Christmas is done. Our home is vomiting toys and I find myself incable of walking through the house without tripping on something. I am afraid after only having children for 20 months, I have enough toys for all of Uganda. I feel blessed and ashamed all at the same time.

My brother-in-law told me on Christmas Day, after we opened our many wonderful gifts and me saying you are all too generous, “Hey, if you don’t want them (our gifts), I’ll take them!” Well, that doesn’t fix anything or make me feel any better.

I am eating the last of the Christmas M&Ms and the final sip of egg nog to send off the holiday. That probably isn’t right attitude or sentiment I should write in reference to such a beautiful and meaningful holiday, but that is how I feel tonight. 2014 has too much promise for me to dwell too long here.

What mattered most this Christmas was my attitude. I had to intentionally pray as much as I could for the right outlook. I had to pray to love people that I definitely had some issues with. I had to pray that I would speak life instead of some of the emotions that were really going on inside.

You know what happens when you do that? God pounces at the opportunity.

For the first time in probably a decade, something birthed. I craved magic for Christmas, instead of magic, I got reality. Reality of how much I love my husband..and the words actually came out. I didn’t allow the demon of silence to overtake. The loving words that filled my mind, I spoke. I spoke and life gushed into our relationship.

I watched my children breathe in the firsts of the Christmas season. Tosten ripping open his toolbox from Grandpa Hegseth and hammering every flat surface he could find. Olivea reclining in her Bumbo and gripping her special doll, chewing on her head with great amusement. A tear dripped down my cheek as Tosten said Jesus for the first time as we read his favorite Bear Bible. He pointed to Jesus holding a brunette child and an odd realization surfaced…perhaps that child in that book was Rohan. Maybe God had the illustrator of the Bible make that picture just for me…to put two and two together and give a physical representation of my other child in heaven with Jesus this Christmas.

I thanked my parents and my sisters for their selflessness. I have some of the most selfless family members on earth. I took time before Christmas to write each of them a personal note and realized that every single one of them invested a hefty amount of time into me and nutured me into the woman I am today. Being able to thank them specifically for how they cultivated beauty caused my heart to bubble up with gratitude.

My dearest friends, I savored. I soaked up every word they spoke and reveled in their presence. I told them how comfortable I was with and them and I realized that we would be together for eternity, no matter how many miles separated us here on earth.

I guess the magic I was craving wasn’t really magic at all.

No, I didn’t get what I was looking for at Christmas. I guess I should have known that God would not do things the way they once were. He never has. If God recreates something, it is always better, always more satisfying, and definitely different than the previous. Who needs magic when your reality is better?

Manda Scrooge

Christmas is only twelve days away. For some reason, I have been a bit “weepy” this year. You could blame my out of whack post-pregnancy hormones or just missing the memories of this holiday, but I have found myself tearing up multiple times this year.

There was a time when I was younger that I believed Christmas was magic. I can still muster up that feeling of mystery when looking back. It’s usually tied to Heyma and tied to her house and the curiosities that filled it. I remember being nestled in her house, Lawrence Welk on TV and my cousins, my sister and I decorating her plump pine in the den. There was a waft of mashed potatoes and meatballs in the air as we would sing along with the carols playing on the show. I remember she had special bulbs that had a hole in the center filled with glitter and color and I would always poke my chubby little finger inside. I will confess, I probably broke a couple bulbs a year doing this.

I believed in Santa. I knew Jesus was why we celebrated Christmas, but I always liked the idea of flying reindeer and this kind, rotund man traveling all over the world to give gifts to every single person with no expectation of anything in return. A part of me still believes in Santa. I want my children to believe in Santa as long as they want. There is something that is planted deep inside when someone is allowed to do so. Imagination? Magic? Mystery? Things that cannot be explained. I don’t think that is too far off of what we expect our children to believe when thinking about Jesus. It takes just as much faith and imagination to believe in Him! And the story of Jesus Christ holds just as much (and more) magic and mystery…but it’s real!

I think my weepiness this year has a lot to do with craving. I long for something more this Christmas than my other adult Christmases of the past. I wish I could bottle the magic I felt as a child and use some this year.

Tonight I am sitting in a cold room at home. The Christmas tree is decorated, but just by me. Tosten hung and rehung a few ornaments here and there, but it was mostly me. Tyler was present, but he was watching his television programs. I’m eating a heart Christmas cookie that Tosten and I baked together and frosted. This brings some good memories.  The feelings of togetherness. Communion with another human being. I’m purposely savoring it, taking a bite every five minutes, just to savor it more and remember the smiles and laughter we shared making them.

About a week ago, I was driving from my house on County Highway 116 to my parents house down some gravel roads, Nat King Cole came on with his Christmas Song. In that moment, my heart warmed and tears fell. Driving the same roads I shared with Heyma in her old silver Celebrity as a child. I felt like Heyma was there with me. Memories and joy she gave swelled within. In that moment, I realized what the magic was.

I don’t remember one present I received from Heyma. Not one. But I remember how she made me feel. Really, looking back, I barely remember any gifts I have been given growing up, but it was always a feeling. Not necessarily the object, but always a feeling. Feeling about the day or that person. Good feelings.

The magic of Christmas is all about relationship. I don’t need that food dehydrator I asked for or the kitchen garbage can, but I need you. I need some laughter with my two sisters, a cup of coffee with my bschool roommate Ashlie, some tears with Rebekah, some rolling of eyes with my mom over dad’s The Three Stooges. I need to go on a date with my hubby and finally see the Fergus Falls’ new movie theater! I need a hug from my Aunt Kathi or a smirk from my Uncle David’s red face. I need relationship. Communion.

And this doesn’t distract from Christ in any way! He, too, dwells in the magic of Christmas. He is the face of Christmas. He is the One that pleas during this time (and everyday) for relationship.

If anyone has talked to me about gift exchanges this year I am sure you may have thought that I was having a Scrooge year. I definitely have wanted to say “bah humbug” to the various people that say, “well, it’s just five bucks for a gift.” I can do that. I am okay with that. Yet a part of me wonders what can I really give with that? How can I bestow any “magic” with that or any type of money? And to be honest, the gift giving tradition is getting old. Partially because my family is tight on money, but our time, man, we have plenty of time and relationship to offer. That seems so much better than a flimsy five-dollar gift!

So here I am. Yes, I am a bit confused with my own emotions. I feel the magic of Christmas in the way as Tosten is experiencing all these things new, but sorrow that Santa doesn’t exist and somehow my Christ has been sold out to a Black Friday and the obesession with brand named stuff and bigger and better TVs and electronics and, sigh, just stuff. Stupid stuff.

I miss Heyma. I miss her time. I miss relationship. I miss the magic and mystery of my childhood curiosities. I miss the wonder of the unknown and I long to somehow capture that again. But for now, I’ll enjoy my cookie. I’ll enjoy my glowing tree and my husband watching his TV. Though it’s a sad reflection of what used to be, I’m with those I love and I’m not alone. Perhaps that is as close as I will get this year. I guess time will tell.