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{October} Breast Cancer Awareness Month

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Paula Biggs for Frog Prince Paperie

Photo Cred: Paula Biggs for Frog Prince Paperie

*I originally wrote this post for Wonderfully Made’s blog “Know Your Value” in October.

Have you ever been sick? Have you ever dealt with pain in your body or mind? Have you ever seen a loved one suffer, or maybe even die?

This might sound heavy, but take a deep breath and hang in there with me, because sometimes it is important to talk about heavy things.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Around the nation, people raise awareness about breast cancer, helping to erase stigma for the disease, and encourage early detection of the disease for treatment.

A study and article posted on the American Cancer Society website says that “an estimated 60,290 new cases” of breast cancer in women will be detected in 2015.

As we move through the year and find ourselves in October, it is important that we at Wonderfully Made address the pain and fear that women (and men too) find themselves in when diagnosed with cancer, disease, and illness.

Taking a step back, I want to shift your attention from our world today to go back in time about 2,000 years. Let’s look at one woman who struggled with disease for 12 years before finally finding healing through faith in one Man…

“A woman in the crowd had suffered for twelve years with constant bleeding. She had suffered a great deal from many doctors, and over the years she had spent everything she had to pay them, but she had gotten no better. In fact, she had gotten worse. She had heard about Jesus, so she came up behind him through the crowd and touched his robe. For she thought to herself, ‘if I can just touch his robe, I will be healed.’” (Mark 5: 25-28)

Now I want to take a moment to explain a bit about the culture of Bible times. Women were not considered equal to men, but deferred to them in the patriarchal society that fathers ruled their households, including their wives.

This woman was single, which already puts her in a vulnerable place, and on top of that, for 12 years she sought medical help for a blood hemorrhage. That meant that she spent her entire wealth on doctors to try to get healing, which left her in a worse spot. When this woman met Jesus, she was penniless, sick, and no one was on her side.

She didn’t have medical insurance. She didn’t have a husband to support her. She didn’t have people raising awareness for her. No one started a campaign to helping with the stigma of bleeding for 12 years. She didn’t have specialists she could travel to all over the world, when the doctors she consulted didn’t have an answer.

She was destitute and desperate. And when it came to meeting the most important, popular, and reputable Rabbi of her time, she couldn’t even approach him to tell her story.

She only had one thing, and that was her faith to just touch him. And now, her story is not forgotten.

“Immediately the bleeding stopped, and she could feel in her body that she had been healed of her terrible condition. Jesus realized at once that healing power had gone out from him, so he turned around in the crowd and asked, ‘Who touched my robe?’ His disciples said to him, ‘Look at this crowd pressing around you. How can you ask, “Who touched me?” ’ But he kept on looking around to see who had done it. Then the frightened woman, trembling at the realization of what had happened to her, came and fell to her knees in front of him and told him what she had done. And he said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace. Your suffering is over.’” (Mark 5: 29- 34)

Jesus never changes, and to this day He wants to heal our bodies, minds, and souls. He wants us to know Him as our Savior and Healer. He wants to call us daughters and for us to seek Him when we need help, medical or otherwise.

As you think about Breast Cancer Awareness this month, and the many who have suffered breast cancer, are seeking help now, or might be diagnosed later, know that their stories matter. Their stories are important to the Father who sees and knows suffering to the point of healing a penniless, unnamed woman of the Bible so long ago. He calls these women His daughters, and He is ready and able to grant peace and healing.

So have hope, my friends, like this sick woman from the Bible. Keep the faith to look up and out. To not give up getting help. To just grasp on the fringe of His robes that He will save.

Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.” And instantly the woman was made well. ~Mathew 9:22~

If you want to learn more about Breast Cancer Awareness Month, or get involved in a deeper way, Komen is a national non-profit, with other great resources, centered on breast cancer.

The Busy Badge

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Wonderfullymade - 32Photo Cred: Chelsea Stellar

Recently, I was struck with an unintentional break from the busyness of my non-stop life the past few weeks, when I started feeling sick and run down with a cold. I had been pushing myself with vigor for exciting, new volunteer and work activities and I think that getting sick was my body’s way of saying, “Enough!”

It is not without reason that the Bible says to take a Sabbath, or a day of rest. A day to recoup and regroup, to spend time with friends and family, and ultimately to commune with God- our bodies, minds, and spirits need rest. I realize this, yet again, after shutting down; rest is a part of staying healthy. Even our culture celebrates this idea of taking a break with the recent Labor Day that just passed, but a day off is not the norm.

So, why all the busyness?

Why the constant emails, work, and driving around like a crazy person some days to fit in “everything” we have to get done? Why are we so busy we don’t know how to rest unless our bodies physically shut down on us? And why do we wear this busyness like a badge of honor that says, “I am accomplishing something important with my life” or maybe it’s the comparison game of “I am more popular and needed because I am so much busier than you”?

At least in my circle, this seems to be the case, and when I think about my life from high school to post college, not much has changed in the sense of feelings that, “If I’m not doing something, I’m not important.”

To be honest, I struggled with this idea for months this year. God really had to work this out in my life, when I didn’t have a “career” job and I felt behind all my friends, who I saw on Facebook accomplishing great things at work, or continuing their education after college. For months, I couldn’t be validated by what I was doing but instead learned from God Himself that I am valuable no matter what I do or accomplish. The fact that He made me is why I am valuable, and no amount of “doing things” will change how He sees me.

So, when blowing my nose, wiping away drippy eyes, and going through boxes of tissues like water, I began thinking once more of busyness. This time, I included my friends and to how I lived before and during college. I noticed that this Busy Badge isn’t something that I struggle with solely. The Busy Badge isn’t localized to an age group or cities like New York “The City that Never Sleeps”. The Busy Badge is a phenomenon that has caught up our generation of men and women everywhere and I wonder why? Is it wanting to be busy because we are lonely? Or maybe, it is desiring success so we work ourselves to the bone till we have it?

It seems we value speed and efficiency, doing more, and one upping our friends with the stories we tell of just how busy we are. It is as if we have to prove to ourselves and to others that we are Superwomen! That we can do it all, on our own, without resting because we don’t have time to rest. That we can handle stress and be more productive than the other people around us.

I also know, as I have a few friends who are married and are new mommy’s, that the busyness of a family makes them feel needed and important. That no one else can complete this task but herself.

Careers, studying, being with friends and family, running around, volunteering, chores, having fun, church activities, eating (often in the car or on the run), exercising, sleeping, checking emails and social media on our phones, and for some young women I know, kids and husbands thrown into the mix, is a lot to juggle! And I’m sure that with my recent brain crash, where the 1,200 tabs that I felt running in my mind at once as I tried to keep it all straight, shut down, I’m not the only girl out there to feel this struggle between time and my to-do list, fighting against each other, in a battle that lands me on the couch sick.

So, during my forced Sabbath week, I realize that rest needs to be built into my schedule, time, and way of life, if I truly want a healthy and God honoring life. And busyness is probably a cover up and code for things like loneliness, fear, and validation for who I am by what I am doing.

That said, how do we create time, when there truly are important tasks to be done throughout the day?

The simplest, yet sometimes hardest thing to do is to say, “No!”

Learning to say “no” to some things, to have better time management and take care of your personal self with proper food, sleep, exercise, and time with God in order to move throughout the day in peace, is so important. And it is something that I am working on within myself.

Saying “no” to friends, volunteer work, social media, Netflix, etc. means saying, “yes” to other important things for my friends, family, and myself. I want to be there for my family and friends. I want to be present in the moment with my best foot forward at work, not feeling wiped out. The people who are important to me, myself, and God deserve me at my best, not running around sporting a self-proclaimed Busy Badge for all to see.

So, let’s put down our Busy Badges and learn to rest. Let’s rethink what rest really is from mundane and lazy, to healthy and wise. Let’s build that into our lives despite all the other really great things that we can be doing with our time. And let’s learn to say “no.” These are encouragements I’d urge you to consider for yourselves, dear women.

Take it from the sick girl on the couch, resting by your own accord, instead of by your body’s making you stop from the busyness is so much simpler and better way of life. After all, even God laid down His work and rested on the 7th day at the dawn of creation.

Shopping.

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YuriyTrubitsyn

Photo Cred: Yuriy Trubitsyn

Nearly every girl I know loves the word. Shiny floors that you can practically see your reflection; displays of glittering chunky gold and silver jewelry; racks of sunglasses that are prefect for summer and make a perfect addition to your collection; textures that run through your fingers like silk, soft cotton, and denim that you can see yourself wearing and the comments your friends will make if you purchased this latest necessity. Let’s not forget, of course, the rows of flats for sundresses and jeans, the click clacking of trying on a new pair of heels, and the strappy sandals that make your feet look slimmer.

Oh, all of that and more rushes to me when I hear the word “shopping.” And it is the and more part that I want to write about today.

Amazingly, I never liked shopping growing up, or ever really. My friends in middle school would meet at the mall on a Friday or Saturday and spend the evening tossing around and trying on new clothes and dresses. I was too self-conscious about my body to ever really enjoy it. In high school, looking for a prom dress was the most disastrous $100 my mother and I would ever spend, the trauma of trying to fit a dress to my oddly proportioned, petite, somewhat athletic, yet still carrying a bit of baby fat body would ever experience. (I do not miss high school prom dress shopping one bit.)

To be honest, to this day I don’t really like shopping. But not because I’m too self aware to enjoy it, I just prefer to be outside, hiking, biking, or doing yoga than to brows aisles of clothes “just for fun.” Fun means so much more than being inside under blinding florescent lights looking at styles I want to buy and can’t afford or wishing I could pull off but never can.

So, it was to my surprise that for one of the first times in my life a few weeks ago, I felt a connection to the 3.5 billion other women who live in the world and care about this thing called shopping. Why had I been missing out, for nearly a quarter of a century, not appreciating this consumerist pastime?! Had I just crossed over to womanhood, as the world knows it?

Let me explain.

I walked into this one store that has a red and white logo and nearly every important thing to humanity inside. You know… Target! I ran in quickly to buy a card for a friends wedding, or birthday. I can’t even remember the event because after picking up the card, I meandered to the clothes section.

Instead of being overwhelmed with all the options and colors, I could barely pull myself away from the dresses, shirts, pants, shorts, more shirts, more dresses and more pants all waiting just for me. I took multiple trips back and fourth from the clothes to the dressing room and back again. And I’m sure that the sweet lady who gave me a new card with a number each time I walked in and out of the dressing room with armfuls of clothes, secretly hated the pile that built up of discarded options that someone (probably she) would have to put back in it’s home at the end of the day.

I tried to help out by putting one or two things that I remembered where I got them back on the rack, but let’s be real, I was too enamored with this thing called shopping to be of much use. I probably put those shirts on some pants rack somewhere.

I don’t remember how long I spent in Target that morning. But I ended up walking out of the store empty handed, save for the card I had run in to purchase originally.

I wanted sooo many things! Too many things. I wanted the leopard shoes that wouldn’t go with anything in my closet. And the dresses to add to my collection of dresses I rarely wear anymore. I wanted boots and purses and new workout clothes…

But I walked away from it all; even though I could have used the pretty, plastic card in my wallet with my name on it to make all those things I wanted, mine.

I don’t know if it was my conscience or what, but a thought hit me at the end of the clothing frenzy I found myself that morning: I have to be a good steward of what God has given me, with both time and money. In the end, I couldn’t justify purchasing new “stuff” when I didn’t have the money to actually pay for it, when I had been struggling for months already to pay off that pretty, plastic card with my name on it. I couldn’t justify buying all this stuff for myself when so many people live with so little and don’t have a choice. I couldn’t justify claiming these new things as mine when the point wasn’t for an event or purpose other than to satisfy my desire of compliments and wanting.

So I walked away.

I also realized that morning, that I will never get back the time that I spent at Target trying clothes on.

To me, there are more important things to do with my money and time than buy more stuff for myself. (That’s not to say I will never buy anything ever!) However, I realized that day in Target that I turned a corner with shopping. It is with purpose and intentionality that I will shop in the future, not out of a rush of simply wanting things.

So I encourage you to think about what is in your shopping cart or basket the next time you meander into a store, being honest with what you find yourself reaching for, and think about spending that time and money on things (friendships, family, talents, and dreams) that are truly important. Maybe it’s time to turn a corner and walk away.

Have you ever seen Confessions of a Shopaholic?

Funny clip of shopping at it’s finest.

pink down arrows

Patterns.

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MayaKarmonPhoto Cred: Maya Karmon

I remember learning about patterns in grade school up through high school- they were important for every subject, I just couldn’t escape patterns!

In Math class we learned about patterns in counting and numbers. I think of the big multiplication chart that was posted on the back wall of Miss Jenkins’ classroom in third grade. We were “forced” to study math and figure out the patterns in our head. I would get frustrated and use my fingers to count, even when I was told not to and had to repeat the problem till I did with without help from my fingers. This pattern never fully went away and I still use my fingers to count when my phone isn’t accessible in the moment. Oops!

Patterns showed up in Art class relating to shadows and color. If you could spot the pattern that the still art created in the bowl of fruit on the sketch pad you were handed, with a pencil and nothing else, it made the self portrait drawing (a complicated work of art for some middle-schoolers) that much simpler. The shadows on the bowl of fruit would be similar to the shadows on a person’s face and skin with the same lighting. And viola, you’d have a face with depth!

In reading and literature one could not escape finding patterns during the poetry section that I swear showed up every year in English class, which could be another pattern on its own. Why all the poetry, teachers? Ugh. But, I didn’t mind finding the pattern in styles of poetry. It grounded the poem and helped the poem make sense to me. A couplet, a limerick, a haiku… Who knows the differences of these unless you study the patterns within?

Science is a whole different subject that I don’t remember much of and never cared for except when my 7th and 10th grade teachers, Mr. Stout and Mrs. Seeland, taught me. But I know there are patterns in geology, showing what the earth and rocks look like in layers to make beautiful patterns in nature. So too the patterns of spring turning to summer, turning to fall, turning to winter, and repeating the pattern of temperature changes, colors of leaves, and which plants “die” for winter and revive themselves in the warmer weather that spring and summer bring.

I’ve learned how to recognize and see patterns my whole life in a plethora of ways. And I am just now recognizing another pattern as I “grow up”.

Life is full of change. That’s no secret. But there is a pattern that I myself take on when life changes in how I relate to God. He is always there. He is a constant. But what do I do when my life is morphing from a grey, stormy season into one of daily joys, smiles, and happiness?

I notice that I don’t communicate so much. I journal less. I do life without seeking Him as often.

There had been a long “season” lasting about two years from when I graduated college till about two months ago where I felt lonely, blocked, and like I couldn’t get a break. I sought and fought. I filled up innumerable journal pages with tears, Bible verses, and sermons to help me keep going. And I pinned more Pinterest quotes then any girl should about inspiration that I am capable.

It’s been a slow walk from one phase of life to another- one that tried to keep me down in depression, oppression, and self-pity.

A vulnerable time where the city I grew up in only seemed to bring pain when I visited.

To NOW, after living here for a year again, where I’ve learned from my Mother’s strength and can call this place “home” without tears stinging my eyes.

It’s been a slow walk to a place of peace and joy.

As I trust God more with my future… As I stop striving to do life on my own… As I give into Him… As I smile… As I take in sunsets and captivating starry nights appreciating and thanking Him for life… As I breathe and literally dance by myself in the acres of woods that are behind my house…

I don’t want to fall into the pattern of thinking “I’ve got this. Thanks God for getting me to this spot, I’ll take it from here. Life is good now and You can go.”

I’ve already noticed myself journaling and writing less as the “good” things pick up.

And really, that’s not what I want.

I want to be as devoted, seeking, and pleading with Him in the good times as well as the hard. Because as change happens and life moves on, I know this phase of sappy, happy, warm and fuzzy feelings won’t last forever. And I want to feel as connected with Him now as I do when seeking Him in the hard times.

A heart devoted to God through all life’s ups and downs is one pattern I want to keep. And as I write this, I almost see it as a form of accountability. Putting my heart and habits on the line for all to read.

This pattern isn’t natural, like some of the others I’ve learned to recognize while growing up. I’ll have to work at this pattern to make it happen. But it will be worth it. Because He is worth it.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. And as your eyes take in these words, as you peek into the little window of my soul that my writings make manifest, I hope you look into the patterns of your own life and habits.

That these words will illuminate a window for yourself.

And that the window won’t stay shut with an empty reflection staring back, but will open wide to a world of possibilities for your soul to live and soar. Now is a time to open up, dream, and live out a pattern of life that only you can work to create.

Patterns.

I think they’re kinda important.

😉

Shades of Green.

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Danist SohPhoto Cred: Danist Soh

I live in a part of the USA overrun with a diversity in weather for lack of other diverse things that could mark this town and region.

Fall is colorful or grey; there is really no in between with bright skies and orange-red leaves one day that turn to a stark grey barrenness as soon as the wind shakes those leaves from the branches. Winter brings ice, snow, sleet, and a bitter cold that reaches its fingers all the way to my bones making it miserable to be outside, or like that one winter, it was in the 50’s for most of January; one just never knows. Spring is wet- colorful like fall with tulips, red clover, and other flowering plants- but it is a long time coming as often it can snow in April and rain through May; sun where are you?

But it is July now, so I want to focus on summer. Summer in my area is marked with rain and overcast skies most days. Sometimes the rain comes out of nowhere in a black-grey, thundering mass rolling through the sky, that pelts the earth with big, hard raindrops. The rain cools down the mugginess and humidity that makes the air heavy. Rain also takes care of the bugs, giving a brief respite to the buzzing around my ears; mosquitoes that just love my skin; bees that have a knack for picking me out to explore and chase around in circles, leaving my friends in peace; or, my favorite was yesterday, I was writing at a park and a daddy long-leg spider literally climbed 1/2 way up my calf before I felt him on me and I karate chopped him off my leg. Gross!

It is these humid, rainy, buggy days that put me in a state where the “grass is greener on the other side.” Moving to the northeast of the US from sunny, southern California, the grass is not literally greener as there is an intense water deficit in CA. But I yearn for the long, dry, sunshiney days that CA is known for. Picnics are never cancelled on account of the weather and the term “rain date” is a foreign concept. I long for heat where I don’t feel sticky, beaches, and palm trees reaching for the cloudless, blue sky above. And most of all, I miss orange and fuchsia sunsets showing off above the ocean.

classbbrainforest.comPhoto Cred: Pinterest- ClassBB.wordpress.com

The rain where I live keeps me inside and I worry about summer getting away from me. When I do go outside, there are the perils of before mentioned bugs and insects and the black garden snake with white stripes lining his back that I saw in my mother’s garden.

Then, in a brilliant moment, the rain disappears and I see a rainbow shimmering in a hazy arch- such a mysterious array of color that MUST have a leprechaun with a pot of gold at the end of it. The clouds part and a mist rises from the trees into the sunlight, radiating an ethereal beauty. The downpour subsides leaving a dripping from the wet leaves in it’s wake, sounding like faint music. And when I inhale, the earth smells mossy, sweet, clean, and refreshed.

Rick McEwanPhoto Cred: Rick McEwan

I realized after the last storm that the sun always shines again and when it does my favorite color green shimmers in various shades of hunter, jade, and sweet lime. Green is everywhere in this piece of the USA that I live during summer. And it’s beautiful, life-giving, fresh, and rich.

It takes the rain to bring out the full force of green in the gardens and woods around me.

Bringing this to a personal level, I can’t have that rich, beautiful, colorful life I imagine for myself with out the rain and storms of life to grow me. Like the earth and gorgeous summer green that marks the east coast, the hardships of growing up are necessary for me to reach my potential.

Whether it’s the job application and resume dance that seems to lead me further down an endless, dark tunnel and I just want to give up; the dysfunctional family drama that seems to pop up just as I am ready to forgive again and take down the walls I’ve built to protect myself; or the financial stress of not having a steady paycheck to pay for medical bills or the last visit to the mechanic for my car…

I have the hope from watching the world around me that these clouds of life will clear! The rain will stop. And in the storm’s place will be a rainbow, sunlight, mist, a unique beauty, a new song, and most of all a full, rich, thriving life in the shades of green that are unique to me. So let’s be real. I love the rain. The world needs it.