There once was a little girl who dreamed big dreams and spent lazy summer days staring up at the sky or playing outside. She was happy. She was spunky. She was social. Life was good. She had a happy family that lived on a quaint little farm.
The year that her family lost their farm was the year that it began. A pound here, a pound there. A little bigger pants, a size bigger shirt. Nothing that a summer of growing and stretching wouldn't take care of. But as she grew up, she also grew out.
Suddenly kids at school noticed. When before none of them cared, now they made fun of her. On the bus, on the playground, in class, in the lunchroom. It didn't matter. Anywhere was fair game. "Hey piggy." "Watch out, Lori might squash you!" "Lori likes who? Yeah, no guy would want that." "Look at that cow. There's nothing small about her!" Day in and day out throughout elementary and into middle school. The same kids. The same words. The same feelings. The same routine. Run into the house, lock herself in her room, and cry until she fell asleep pleading and asking God why He made her this way. Dreading the bus ride to school. Trying not to make eye contact in the hopes that they wouldn't notice when she was around. Trying to dodge bullets where bullets could be dodged.
She decided at a young age that this was her life. And it wasn't fair. She was angry and bitter. Things weren't great at home and things weren't great at school. There wasn't a safe place anywhere. Except food. It didn't tease her, didn't make her feel bad. So began a long, downhill journey of self loathing and self medicating with food that finally culminated to a single moment when she looked in the mirror, 34 years of age, and decided she had had enough and it was time to change something.
Who knew that that something would change everything?
So five weeks ago, God led me down a different path. A better path. A path not only to improve my health, but also to improve me, the me that He created me to be before the dawn of time. So far the physical part hasn't been too bad. Granted, it is still hard, but doable.
It's the emotional part that's the killer.
It's the looking in the mirror part and still seeing fat Lori and wondering how that is beautiful.
It's the getting up in the morning part and being very aware of what makes me different from everyone else.
It's the hope that is trying to spring up through the hard packed soil of heartache.
It's the part that compares myself to others.
It's the part that wonders if a guy is ever going to want me for me.
It's the struggle. Daily. Hourly. Minutely. Secondly.
That's where the battle rages. Between knowing what God says about me and actually believing it. I let myself believe the lies for so long that they embedded deeply in my heart.
This is where I am right now. However, God loves me too much to leave me there. He tells me I am fearfully, wonderfully made. I am precious to Him. I am His daughter. And I am beautiful. And I have to repeat these truths over and over and over and over and over and over. Everyday, in the mirror, I have to look myself in the eye and say to myself, "Lori, you are precious, you are loved, and you are His. No one can take that from you because God said it, and He means it from the bottom of His heart. Believe it."
This is where my real battle will be waged. And to be perfectly honest, it is scary. Praise the Lord I built my house on the firm foundation of Jesus Christ. No matter how bad the storm is around me or how fierce the wind blows, I will not be moved or shaken or blown away. Why? Because I stand on the Solid Rock. Because He understands in those moments when I don't. And He isn't finished with me yet. See? He is doing something new! And I, for one, cannot wait to see what it is.
It's called hope and hope is what we crave.
1 comment:
You are for sure strong enough to do this! I admire your strength to share it with everyone instead of making it a private battle. God will use your words to reach out and inspire others. Keep fighting!
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