Shoulda Bought the Tarp

I stood in line at Aldi and contemplated long and hard. 

Two tarps for $10. They weren't big, but they would be beneficial. I've needed one in the past. Something inside of me urged me to just buy the tarps. But I've been trying to save money after my trip to CO and so after putting them in and out of my cart two times, I left the tarps on the shelf.

Fast forward two weeks.

I'm standing in line at a local food truck and noticed a homeless man shuffling through his belongings. I asked if he needed any food because "I can just double my order and it's no problem." He thanked me kindly but answered "I bought food, but what I could really use is a tarp." The brisk wind and scattered raindrops hit my skin and sank deeper, straight to my heart.  

I was standing in an Aldi line. I said no to the tarp. Now my hands were empty.

As I drove away I was encouraged to listen, more often, to the sometimes quiet voice deep inside.

I choose not to carry guilt, only the regret of a missed opportunity, and the renewed conviction to discern with more intention the next time I'm deliberating the Quick Finds section of Aldi.

My Body and Me - On the Same Team

I stared in the mirror and sobbed.

I didn't know what to feel, half horror and half sorrow. How and why did my body feel the need to break out in blisters and scabs, otherwise known as Shingles? The pain was one thing, but the visual shock was quite another.

I realized it too late. Four days into the sores and an antiviral isn't as effective. I just kept hoping whatever it was would go away. It didn't. Shingles is nerve pain, and I was told I had a severe case.

I wish I could put into words what I felt when my body stared back into my eyes through the glass.

I loaded up on all the supplements and supports to boost my immune system. I felt like my body hated me. For three years I've tried to support and nurture my auto-immune disease and this is my thanks? Betrayal.

I prayed for healing. Then something switched. 

Day six I looked into the mirror and all I felt was compassion. I sobbed again.

A sense of love and admiration washed over me. I looked into the mirror and whispered "you can do it, you can get better. You're fighting so hard. I want to help." And then I looked at myself and thought "am I talking to myself?" But I knew in that moment that my perspective entirely changed. I realized that for years my body has been trying to communicate with me... I was listening now.

I'm a mind-over-matter kind of girl. If I want to do it, I do it, regardless of the impact. If my body says stop, I take a deep breath and keep going. I'm not sure that has entirely changed, but my awareness has changed. And I feel the urge the count the cost.

What if I channeled my determination? What if I cared for this body that serves me every single day with the same determination? But cared for it in a way that honors the beauty and nourishes the strength.

Over the years my relationship with my own flesh and blood has improved, but it's hard to track the progress. I just know that last year I realized I valued myself in a way I never had. My auto immune disease had caused me to feel like I was fighting my body, wishing it would respond differently. I begged God to change it and desperately wished that my body wouldn't fight itself.

I now have a deeper appreciation for this complex body that God has entrusted to my care. A renewed desire to care for myself, a heart shift that I didn't even know I needed.