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Hey friends!  Thanks so much for responding to the questions last week!  Even though WordPress was a dear and posted for me, I was actually “out of the office” and on a much needed vacation with my man.  We needed time just to be.  I have enjoyed reading all of your responses and have even started checking out all of your great tunes you listed as your top listens.

That being said, I have to confess something.

I had an amazing vacation.  I should have felt nothing but gratitude and joy once we returned from our adventure.  But had you been with me on Friday evening, you would have probably declared that I needed meds, or at least another vacation.

We had an easy flight back into Phoenix from California.  The high was only 97, as opposed to the 114 degrees that sent us packing from the desert in the first place.  The plan was to have me collect the bags whilst my husband took the bus to snag our car.  We had 3 large items I needed to collect from the baggage area and hopefully place on a cart.

Two bags = no problem.  Two bags and a huge box = no way.  I walked up and to my surprise the bags had ALREADY arrived.  I quickly surveyed the area for a cart only to discover they required $4.00.  The machines only took small bills.  My wallet didn’t have anything that would work.  Luckily the machine proclaimed to take a credit card.  I tried once.  I tried four times.  I began working up a sweat and running with one of the bags to each station throughout the baggage area.  No one could make change.  I raced around sweating, crying, and cursing.  (I’m not proud.)  It was at this moment that my husband called to check on the progress of the bags.  Poor man.

Long story short – a porter ended up helping me with my bag.  My husband pulled up in the car, and we made it home and enjoyed a dinner of cereal at 7:00pm.  I tell you all of this just to give you an indication of what was going on inside of my heart.  I was irritable and selfish.

Unfortunately, the story doesn’t stop here.  You see, the bathroom scale was still out in the living room from when we had weighed our bags on the way to the airport.  I stepped up on the scale fully expecting to see a shift as a result of vacation dining.  What I wasn’t expecting to see was an 8 pound addition to the number.

I had been working out daily and taking such care of myself before we left for vacation.  I have a dress to wear in October and I want to feel great wearing it.  Tears immediately sprung to my eyes.  I stepped back down and set aside my cereal bowl.  Sometimes the scale is finicky.  Second try: I had gained 6 pounds.  At this point tears are streaming down my face.  My husband did his best to remind me that it’s night time, that we’ve been eating salt and bread all week, and that the number would change quickly after the first trip to the gym.

None of this did anything to help my mood.  I cried through my shower.  I cried as I crawled into bed, and then I sobbed.  I sobbed with the deep, heaving gasps of a three year-old throwing a tantrum.  When I could finally get the words out I squeaked, “I just don’t want this to define me for the rest of my life.  I’m tired of being that girl.  I thought I had won this battle.  I don’t want to worry about my body anymore.”

You see, most of my life I’ve had an extreme love/hate relationship with food.  It’s been my comfort and my poison.  I’ve tried to refrain, to count, to change, to forget… but in the end it always seems to have the upper hand.

I’ve decided to share this struggle with you over the next week.  I woke up this morning and the number had receded again.  I was happy.  But here’s the thing, I don’t want numbers on a scale to have that much control over my countenance and emotions.  What does my response show about my heart?  My pastor, Scott Brown, said this in a recent sermon: “What makes you exceedingly emotional – angry/sad/depressed/fearful/happy?  These are the indicators of what you are bowing down to.  What thrills you more than anything when you get it, but would kill you to lose it?  That’s your substitute savior.”

Gulp.  How do I honor God in this arena?  Do I work out more or care less?  What does it mean for me to be healthy?  How do I do this and not turn it into an idol?

I wish I could tell you I’ve figured it all out by now… but obviously, I haven’t.  But I’m also encouraged.  He’s not finished with me yet.

“No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you come through it.”  1 Corinthians 10:13, The Message

More to come…

Following & stumbling,
Ginger

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  • han

    Your honesty is so refreshing, Ginger!  You are so beautiful!

  • Jordan Whitlach

    That’s how I feel about my anxiety… that I don’t want it to ‘define’ my life. And when another panic comes, and I go to bed crying, I feel those same things. Happy to have you back and praying for you on this journey.

    • Anonymous

      Thank you, friend!

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  • You know you have my understanding and prayers. But over course I am still  looking forward to a fabulous dinner with you Friday night! :) CCB

    • Anonymous

      Yesssssssss!

  • Oh, the scale.

    Oh, sweet girl.

    I know it.  I feel it.  I’ve been there.  I’m always there. 

    In March of 2009, I marched my scale to the dumpster and threw it away, tired of letting a number dictate my daily worth.  I have not weighed myself since, which is equal parts liberating and terrifying.  I don’t know that this is something that everyone should do, but it’s something that I NEEDED to do.

    Thank you for your honesty, for your vulnerability.  I agree with Britney – you are exquisite inside and out.  It’s so easy for others to see, and so difficult for ourselves to realize.  But take it from me, looking at you: you are stunning.

    So much love.

    • Anonymous

      Thank you, friend. Your words mean much to me!

      BRAVO on your scale choice. BRAVO!

  • Britney

    I, too, have had a lifelong love/hate relationship with food. Tagging along with said relationship is a hovering cloud of self doubt and as dramatic as it sounds…self loathing. I have struggled with body image my whole life. It’s always on my mind whether I’m sitting down to dinner or walking around a market. I have always been a “big girl.” the worst of it all is I feel envious of the people that surround me. I see a woman wearing her clothes so proudly and another eating her dinner without concern…I can’t help but feel discouraged. When I was younger I figured once I settled down and aged a bit the worries would cease but unfortunately they’ve only grown. I have a boyfriend that loves me the way I am. My family is always sure to encourage me but I have yet to find relief.

    I know you and I aren’t personal friends but Whitney has told me all about you and showed me your amazing wedding pictures. If a women with such strong faith and a beauty that’s lovely and delicate struggles with the same woes as I do, it gives me hope that I am not alone in my worries. If it’s any consolation I think you are exquisite inside and out. I look forward to the rest of the week on your blog!

    • Anonymous

      Britney – thank you so much for sharing part of your story. I can hear both your heart and your heart. Thank you for your encouragement and for your tender words. Praying that both of us would find rest in this fight. -Ginger