Faithful in the Fray

Last week I started an eight-week fitness transformation at the gym. I found out about it, filled out an application, got accepted, and the following Monday I was weighing in and getting my measurements taken. I’m not a stranger to the gym. I go every once in a while. Our apartment complex has a little gym in it but the majority of the time it’s filled with teenagers so I don’t go. I have a beautiful greenway across the street but, the weather has been so cold lately that I stay inside. I have workout videos and weights that I bought myself a few months ago but, when I get home I’m so tired I make dinner and veg out until bed. Are we seeing a pattern? Excuses. During my first class last week I had a fitness evaluation. I had filled out a packet and taken that with me answering a ton of questions as to why I wanted to change, and what helps motivate me. He then asked me one final question, one I wasn’t prepared for, and to be honest my answer didn’t surprise me, it was just that I had never said it out loud before.

As a child I remember growing up in the most loving home. I had two wonderful parents, crazy siblings, tons of friends and loved being adventurous. I knew my parents and my home was a safe place, and no matter what, my parents were there to protect me. We lived in a town house community during the majority of my childhood years, and since this was the 90’s, kids and teenagers alike were able to roam free until it was time to come home for dinner. I don’t remember the first time it happened, or even what I did afterwards, but I do remember a sudden shift in who I was. I was no longer Bethie, a little five year old who lived life to the fullest, but suddenly I became a victim of sexual abuse. It happened a few times and I was told to stay quiet because no one would ever believe me. I listened to that boy. My precious, innocent mind couldn’t begin to comprehend what happened and so I stayed quiet. For twelve years.

For twelve years I hid who I was. For twelve years I ate in secret, sneaking food up to my room and hiding the wrappers under my bed. For twelve years I rejected any type of change, refusing to stop sucking my thumb and grow up. I longed for my childhood to continue, so I could have a redo, that didn’t include him. For twelve years I didn’t trust any male that entered my life, fearing I might have to be alone with him one day. For twelve years I walked around angry, and bitter towards anyone who got in my way. For twelve years I was known for saying ‘I don’t like to be touched.’ For twelve years I was deeply depressed, wanting nothing to do with life. For twelve years I was known as the girl with the ‘pretty face’. Which is basically the worst compliment I’ve ever heard. Twelve years. I remember countless talks my parents had with me, expressing how much they loved me and if I continued to eat the way I was I was going to end up hurting myself. They took me to a few counselors, and I was put on numerous medicines. I was known for hiding the pills or flushing them down the toilet. I refused to be someone who, had to take medicine. I do remember one year in elementary school while on the medicine, I decided to stop eating all together. My hope was that I would lose weight and finally fit in with all my friends. That lasted for a year or two, and next thing I knew I was 14 years old and weighing over 200lbs.

In 2007 we moved down to Georgia where my life turned upside down. Like I mentioned earlier, I was someone who hated change, and the fact that my parents were uprooting me during high school made me loathe change even more. I remember the first day of school my sophomore year I ate in the bathroom, overweight and friendless hoping I would survive. It was during this same time that we started going to a church right down the road from us. This church ended up saving my life. Over the course of the next two years, my sophomore and junior year, I went from public school to my parents agreeing to let me be homeschooled. I worked at the church and even became a nanny for a couple boys. It was during my senior year of High School while deciding which college I was going to attend that the Lord spoke to me. I had been praying and praying about furthering my relationship with Him and taking it to deeper places when He gently told me we had things to work on. I was reminded of my childhood and taken back to the memories I had pushed down for so long. It took me six or seven months to get the courage to talk to my mom. I didn’t want to be a disappointment and I didn’t want to upset anyone. So, I picked a prime time, walked down stairs, told her, and left for work.

Soon after I told my parents they took me to see a counselor, a male counselor. At this point in my life I was so numb to any male I didn’t mind it at all. The Lord works in mysterious ways because having him as my counselor turned out to be a beautiful thing. I didn’t go that many times as I was ready to move past the hurt and pain that I had been carrying for so many years. We had a pretty intense pray-through session and in the midst of a tiny room in Roswell, Georgia, Jesus showed up, wrapped me in His arms and told me it wasn’t my fault. Thus, the healing process began.

I went to Kenya that September and had my world rocked. I learned about Identity in Christ and who I was as a daughter of the Most High. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. When I returned home, I was deeply depressed and couldn’t wait to be apart of something like that again and so I made it my mission to return. Before I left for Africa the second time I went to a couple different doctors to get checked out and make sure I was okay, physically. At this point I hadn’t lost any weight, but was working on internal healing. I went and saw an Endocrinologist as well as a Gynecologist. I found out that I had insulin resistance, hypothyroidism and polycystic ovarian syndrome. The one that made me stop dead in my tracks was being diagnosed with PCOS. I love children. Although my brain wasn’t focused on getting married and having children, I was worried when the doctor told me that if I didn’t lose weight, it might be next to impossible for me to conceive. 19 year old me, weighing a whopping 230lbs was crushed.

I started taking medicine which helped my body start to function properly for the first time. I was losing a bit of weight but unsure of what my next step was, as I was leaving for Africa in just a couple of months. During the next two trips overseas with the help of a clean diet and taking my medicine I was able to lose around 45lbs. Since returning home two years ago I’ve maintained over a 50lb weight loss. For me, the girl who ran to food for any form of comfort, this is a huge accomplishment. I have gained confidence in myself; I’ve met, fallen in love with, and married the man of my dreams. A man, who doesn’t care what I look like, but loves me for who I am on the inside. He also thinks I’m beautiful, so that’s a bonus.

So, now that I’ve given you a bit of a background as to why this is so important to me, I will fill you in on the question and answer part of my evaluation. I was asked “What do you think will stop you from completing this transformation?” and my answer was a simple “fear.” I’m scared. I’m scared of losing weight and allowing myself to be who I’m supposed to be. I’m scared of people, mainly men, looking at me and ‘undressing me’ with their eyes. I’m scared of what will happen when I get rid of all the layers I built up so I wouldn’t get hurt. It’s scary. Getting healthy, losing weight, it’s mental. I remind myself daily that Jesus won and I am His. I am His temple, His vessel and I am being used for His glory. I am no longer a victim, but a victor. I am not defined by my past and what was done to me, but I am defined by what He says about me. Fearfully and wonderfully made, I’m His beloved, I’m worthy, I’m cherished, I’m appointed and anointed. That is who I am.

As I continue this journey, one day at a time, I’m reminded that I am no longer a slave to fear, because I am a child of God.

I’ll make sure to keep you updated as the weeks go on, I’m almost finished with week two of eight and I already can tell my body is changing. Glory!

I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to write a blog post. I’m not going to lie to y’all; the past two months have been insane. So, I decided that I was going to write a crazy, long blog combining the two months, highlighting some of the things that went on.

          Month Five:

• Our Martha Stuart Christmas Tree. Back in October Jeremy and I found out we didn’t have a Christmas tree. We thought that we were going to be given one and when that didn’t go through, we went on a hunt. Well, actually, it just sort of happened one day. We went into Home Depot to get the floating shelves. (remember those dang floating shelves?) and while we were in there, we found an amazing tree! It was absolutely beautiful and we knew the price was going to be well worth the investment. I’m very traditional, I love the white lights, and a tree that is pre-lit makes my heart leap that much more. We spent one Saturday pulling out all the decorations I bought for a trillion percent off last year and started getting our little home ready for the holidays. We stopped by Hobby Lobby and Home Goods (my love language is gift cards to home goods stores) and after shopping for hours and a zillion percent off, our home looked awesome!

• Our dryer broke. One Saturday morning I got up to get ready for the day when I went to check our laundry. I noticed that the clothes were still wet and so I started the dryer again. When I pushed the button and let go, the dryer turned off. I figured that I didn’t hold the button down long enough so I pushed it again and let go. Nothing. I opened the dryer and pulled out the sopping set of queen sized sheets, towels, and random work clothes that Jeremy had piled into the washer the night before. The heat boiled into my face within an instant and I was livid. I slammed the dryer door and mumbled something along the lines of ‘and this is why I always do the laundry…’ totally neglecting the fact that Jeremy was trying to help. I slammed the door one more time (hoping to wake him up) and went about getting ready. I walked out of the bathroom to see my sleepy, half dressed husband, leaning over the dryer trying to see what I was freaking out about. I snapped at him saying ‘YOU broke it. You put too much stuff in it. We’re leaving for Pennsylvania on Wednesday, how are we going to dry our clothes now?’ and walked away. Let me tell you guys, I’m good at dropping the mic and walking away. No proud of it either. Between holidays and weddings, and being out of town, our dryer still is broken. We’ve been using my parents when we can, or scraping $1.50 per cycle when we absolutely need to dry our clothes.

• A Pennsylvanian Thanksgiving. We loaded up our car the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and headed up north. This year we spent Thanksgiving with Jeremy’s family and Christmas with mine. We figured that would be the easiest thing to do and flip flop them next year. It was so strange not being with my family on a holiday as this was the first one I’ve ever missed, but it was nice to be able to spend time with my new family, joining in on their traditions. It even snowed on Thanksgiving! What more could we have asked for? Our trip up and back was pretty uneventful; we managed to only stop about two times during the 13 hr trek. Thanks Africa, you’ve taught us well!

• Four weddings. Four sets of our friends all got married within six weeks of each other. I had the opportunity to go to a few bridal showers and some bachelorette parties which made me so happy. I’m a firm believer in girl time and guy time. It’s so good for the soul, and the fact that I have a loving husband who allows me to spend a night away from him is something I do not take for granted. It makes me love coming home to him so much more! I’ll give more details on the weddings in month six!

• Parties and brunches. We had a party a week it seemed like. December was so much busier than I could’ve ever imagined. I had a women’s brunch at church that my family was all in some way taking part in. My grandfather, dad, and brother sang in a men’s quartet. It was a sing-a-long for Christmas songs. Then I was asked to sing a song as well during the brunch. I love singing, but goodness I get so nervous when I’m supposed to sing in front of other people. Why can’t I be blindfolded every time? I guess that would look a little silly, wouldn’t it?

Month Six:

• Magical Nights of Lights. We went on a double date with some of our friends from church to Lake Lanier. We heard that it was an amazing date night place and so we figured, why not? What we didn’t take into account was the fact that there was one way in and one way out of this place. We sat in traffic for a solid 2 ½ hours before ever getting into the Island. It was a lot of fun, and the lights were okay, it was mainly just mass chaos all around. As we were leaving we saw a car had broken down, causing all the cars behind it to wait even longer. Gross.

• Surprise date to the Sundial. At one point Jeremy looked at me and told me he was going to take me on a date. I told him I would love that and asked where we were going to go. He told me he would take care of it. A few days later he told me that I had to be dressed nicely and ready by 5:30. He took me to the Sundial in downtown Atlanta. We went there on our first date, just to look out and watch the sunset. There we were, 2 ½ years later, having a date as a married couple. The meal was fabulous, and we talked, laughed, and dreamed about the New Year that was upon us. It was such a refreshing time of being together, just the two of us!

• Our first Christmas. Jeremy and I were dog sitting for a good friend of ours during Christmas so we had an extra house guest with us for the holidays! We went to my grandparent’s house for Christmas Eve and had a dinner with all our family, and then we decided that we were going to sleep over at my parents Christmas Eve! We didn’t want to wake up alone, just the two of us, so we took all our own presents and the goodies for my family and had a big family Christmas. Jeremy was so good to me. He got me a beautiful Giving Key necklace and also tickets to see Wicked which is my absolute favorite musical of all time. I can’t wait to go and see it, as well as have him experience it! I was able to surprise him big time with a custom built longboard from one of his best friends. I was so sneaky about this, I surprised myself. He loved it, and can’t wait for the weather to change that way he can ride it all the time. On top of that, we all got passes to Andretti to have a family day before Nathan left for basic training.

• Epic Game night. We had a huge game night at our apartment at the end of December. We wanted to get as many of our friends together as possible while they were all in town. It turned out to be a big hit, we had around fifteen people there and played a few different games. I love having people over, and now that Jeremy and I have our own space we are able to do this more often! I can’t believe it took us almost six months to make it happen! We’re so looking forward to entertaining more in the future. I don’t think we have laughed this much in a long time.

• Long Live King Harris and a Holy Frozen Matrimony. We were able to go to a beautiful wedding reception for a couple of our friends who eloped in Thailand back in November. It was so much fun to get so many people that Jeremy and I knew, together, in one room. We then had a weekend up in Pennsylvania at an apple orchard to watch a couple more of our friends get married. Jeremy was in the wedding, and so we made the trek up, with four other humans in our car. I don’t remember the last time I have felt this full of life. The time spent with one another was just what everyone needed. It was insanely hectic, but the moments we spent together and the friendships that were made are for a lifetime. Our community has a way of inviting all in, constantly growing bigger and bigger and it’s something I so deeply love. It was an honor to watch two marriages happen, and to be a small part in all of their lives is the biggest honor.

If you read all of this, thank you. If not, I completely understand. I’m sure Jeremy and I have bickered more, and had funny things happen to just the two of us, but one thing you should know about Jeremy and I is: we’re all about community. Our lives are lived and intertwined with so many others, and that’s okay with us. It’s what makes us, us.

I’m sure I’ll be blogging more and more, so keep checking back!

Community: a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.

Out of the eight different missions trips I have gone on in the last decade I have always been a part of a group. Sometimes the groups have been big (35+) and sometimes the groups have been small (11). But I have never gone alone. In September of 2010 my world changed drastically. I had signed up to go to Kenya, a place I never imagined myself going, with 10 other people. I had two leaders, and eight teammates. The first night we were all together was weird. I was never the person who signed up for camp, I liked sleepovers on my turf with just one or two people, big groups freaked me out, and I was severely claustrophobic. All of that didn’t seem to matter that night. I was sleeping in a bunk with 20 other girls in the middle of downtown Atlanta. My new reality. Over the course of that week at training camp I slept in a bunk with no electricity, I took showers from a hose that felt like needles on my spine, I had bugs all over me, I used a port-a-potty on a daily basis, I ate ‘family style’ which resulted in mass amounts of hunger, and I did everything with my team. We had nightly talks after our sessions about how we were doing, things we were learning, trying to break the barriers down as rapidly as we could. As 18-22 year olds that were about to travel to another continent for the next three months we really needed to get to know each other and (hopefully) like each other, fast.

What I never expected to happen was for me to fall in love with the people around me. I lived with those ten humans, day in and day out, for three months straight. We walked together, ate together, laughed together, cried together, worshiped together, prayed together, screamed together, smelled horrible together, and lived life together. That was it. My humans. My community.

Acts 2:44-47 “And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved.”

Coming home was one of the worst experiences of my life. If you ask my teammates, I couldn’t wait to be home. I was sick as a dog the majority of the trip and I wanted nothing more than my bed and my family. The first night I was home though, oh, I was so sad. I remember being in a deep depression for months afterwards. It was hard coming out of community, leaving a place you left your heart, and then returning to ‘life as normal.’

The months before my next trip, I craved that community to the core of my being. I had a taste of something so sweet, and then it was gone. I had never been a part of community, I had no idea it was Biblical and I was confused as to why we, in America, had never done this before. In Africa, you would have little villages with huts right next to each other. They lived in community. They used the same squatty, they had their cattle together, they had fires together, and they broke bread together. It was normal for them. As it says in Acts, chapter 4:32 “All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had.”

A couple days before our wedding, Jeremy and I had some of our closest friends over to our new apartment. We prayed over it, we worshiped, and we asked the Lord to make that space welcoming. We wanted our home to not be ours, but to be open for anyone who might need a place. We wanted to have friends over to eat at our “community table” because that is what it’s all about. Joining together as the body and breaking bread. We wanted the first step you took into our home to be free and full of peace, and comfort knowing that it’s safe.

This way of living in community isn’t something abnormal, it’s normal, its God-given, it’s beautiful. I can’t begin to tell you the stories of the random people I have met, who have now become some of my best friends. The reason? We share Jesus in common. We love the Lord, we love the gifts He has given us, and each person brings something so different to the table.

Romans 12:4-8 states “Just as our bodies have many parts and each part has a special function, so it is with Christ’s body. We are many parts of one body, and we all belong to each other. In his grace, God has given us different gifts for doing certain things well. So if God has given you the ability to prophesy, speak out with as much faith as God has given you. If your gift is serving others, serve them well. If you are a teacher, teach well. If your gift is to encourage others, be encouraging. If it is giving, give generously. If God has given you leadership ability, take the responsibility seriously. And if you have a gift for showing kindness to others, do it gladly.”

We are all uniquely made, and we all have so much to offer one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. One of the most used phrases in my community says  ‘know that you are fought for.” I mean, how could you not want to be a part of something where you have people in your corner, fighting for you, on a daily basis. There is something so extremely comforting knowing that I have people who care about me, and who want to see me succeed, and who will tell me when I’m not acting like I should. They push, they comfort, and they are there.  I don’t know if I would be the person I am today without the people that have taken the time and actively fought for me. My family, my friends, and people I’ve randomly connected with years ago. They all matter. They all have a voice.

This concept of community might seem strange in a world that screams ‘don’t get in my way and don’t get to know me.’ We’re okay with going to church on Sundays and maybe Wednesdays, if we can make the time, to fill our Spiritual bellies and feel good for a few days. We hoard Jesus to ourselves and downright refuse to get out of our comfort zone.  My question? When will you let someone in? When will you allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of other people? When will you let someone push you to be a better version of yourself? Our generation is crying out for attention, we want people to care and to notice us, but we aren’t willing to care and notice others.

It can happen. It is happening. If you want it, you can find it. It’s beautiful, and Biblical, and it’s going to change your life.

Let it be said that “Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.”