Meeting Miracle-Part 2

I wasn’t too excited when my mom came home and announced that as a family we were going to Nicaragua for a mission trip. What happened to the elaborate Caribbean cruises that I have become accustomed too? I guess my mom could see the look in my eyes because she assured me that I was going to have a great time, that it would change my life, and also that I had no choice I was going.

Weeks turned into months and before I knew it my mom was pulling me (Literally pulling) out of bed at 2:30 AM on the morning of the trip. I got up and as I was walking to the bathroom I looked back to my bed thinking there was a possibility that I would never see it again. (yeah, I can me dramatic sometimes)

The first thing I noticed about Nicaragua is that it was HOT! I had never felt heat quite like that before. I climbed into the bus and prayed for rain. Little did I know rain in February in Nicaragua was rare. Now this bus was not a Greyhound bus. It was an old, beat up SCHOOL bus, and we would be traveling 4 hours to Ocatal in this sorry excuse for a vehicle! To be completely honest I don’t remember much about the bus ride besides that it was bumpy and of course, hot. I was completely exhausted and fell asleep. I woke up to find that the bus had stopped and we were parked at an old beat up hotel. Turns out our hotel (which actually wasn’t much better) had been over booked and we were staying here. There were two things I learned from this old beat up hotel.

1) Roaches bigger than my hand do exist and

2) How to flush the toilet using a bucket of water.

It didn’t matter I laid down on top of the dirty bed and fell asleep. I woke to my mom saying, “This is the most beautiful country!” I leaped out of bed and ran to the door; looking over at the shacks and dirt roads I didn’t think so. I smiled at my mom as she whipped out a disposable camera and started taking a million pictures. For the first time in a while I had food on my mind. I was still struggling with an eating disorder at the time and I knew whatever I ate I was going to puke up later, but my stomach was demanding food.

The first two days in Nicaragua I pretended. I ate the nasty food as well as I could and I would later puke it up. I played with the children but my heart wasn’t there, but then something AMAZIING happened.

I remember it was my 17^th birthday, and in Nicaragua it was hot! It was weird. Since I was born in February I was never use to it being hot on my birthday but the sun was beating down on us and we were about to die. I was drinking 5 or 6 bottles of water ever 30 minutes. I was weak and covered in dirt. I wanted to go home or at least back to the hotel so I could rest and then it happened. School let out and kids were everywhere. A girl about my age started talking to me (using a translator of course) we talked about everything but finally the conversation took a turn for the extraordinary! (btw the girl’s name was miracle and she was a miracle)

Miracle: “Why are you in Nicaragua?”
Me: “Basically we are here to tell people about Jesus”
Miracle: “Who?”
Me: “You know Jesus.. The son of God, the one in the bible”

Miracle: “No, I don’t know him. Does he live in Nicaragua or is he an American?”

I was shocked. I didn’t know what to say. The translator’s eye’s lit up like he knew what was about to happen. I remember praying: “Lord, I don’t know what to say. Help me. I’ve never done this before. Should I get someone else? Why would you bring her to me? I’m screwed up!”

I went on to explain to her who Jesus was, what he did and that he was coming back to take us all away from here because he loved us. I saw her begin to understand and I watched her as she started to believe. Holding hands with her and the translator I prayed to God and watched her accept him with very much excitement. I gave her a bible and a hug and she ran off saying she wanted to tell her mom and dad and brothers about Jesus.

That night I sat alone with my feet dangling over the balcony at the hotel and stared out at the city, the people, the houses, the animals, and the mountains and I realized this country was SO BEAUITFUL. I cried and cried when I thought about Miracle. I realized that what I thought was beautiful was not what beauty actually was.

Beauty was not something that was going to come from me puking up every meal I ate. Beauty was not fitting in. Beauty was not flawless skin, and perfect hair. Beauty doesn’t exist apart from Christ. Beauty was the moment when I saw Miracle believe and accept Christ. Beauty is crying out to God when I have had more than I can take of this world. Beauty is brokenness for the lost and unsaved. Beauty is the blood that Christ shed so we wouldn’t have to die. Beauty was something I didn’t understand until I met Miracle.

I thought about the eating disorder that had completely taken over and how it was going to destroy me. I thought about all the people in Nicaragua who were so grateful for what little they had and how I had not shown appreciation for all the gifts I’d been given. That day I changed. That day I privately dedicated myself to God and his kingdom. Meeting Miracle changed my life, brought me healing, and gave me something to live for.


This hope lasted, all the way until I started college. (TO be continued)

Good Enough - Part 1

I had this following conversation with my first “boyfriend” when I was twelve. He was the first boy I ever really liked, the first boy to say he liked me, and the first boy to break my heart. This conversation took place outside school one day while I was waiting for my dad’s assistant to pick me up.

Me: “Why are you acting differently today than yesterday?”

Him: “Well I don’t think we should go out anymore”

Me: “Why?”

Him: “My friends think I could do better than you” (He then walked away)

I remember that day. I remember holding back my tears while my dad’s assistant drove me from Roanoke Rapids NC to Gasburg VA. I remember the 25-minute drive seemed even longer that day as I stared out the window the entire way. I didn’t want for Judy to see me cry. She might tell my dad and I didn’t want to explain to him that I let some boy make me cry.

Judy usually stuck around until my mom or dad got off work, but that day our housekeeper was at the house and would be until way after my parents got there so she left me. I ran up to my room and shut the door. I collapsed on my bed and cried until I could barely breathe. I got up to my wash my face. I looked in mirror at my boring green eyes and dirty blonde hair. I opened my mouth and looked at my teeth. Until that day I considered myself beautiful and Unique. I suddenly started to consider myself ugly and boring.…nothing special.

I wish I could say that this negative self-imagine faded and I began to see myself differently but I never really did. I carried the idea that I wasn’t “good enough” around with me and it didn’t take me long to develop an eating disorder. The idea entered my head after a friend of mind told me it was an easy way to lose weight and be beautiful. I never considered myself fat and at the time I was barely 100 pounds but if that is what it took to be beautiful I would do it. So I did. I would shove my finger down my throat and purge until everything I ate came up. I was surprised how good it made me feel like I was in control. Needless to say I did lose weight and people noticed. A year went by and I kept my secret until my youth pastors wife noticed something different about me. I knew that she suspected something because she asked me about my eating habits. AND then I messed up (and by messed up I mean I probably slipped up and saved my life). I told my best friend Callie what I was doing. We went back in forth that night over the phone but she finally insisted that I tell an adult and she left me no choice. So I decided to tell Elizabeth (my youth pastors wife) since she pretty much had me pinned anyway. The next morning at church I had not forgotten what I had promised Callie but I prayed that Callie had. YEAH RIGHT! Right after Sunday school I see Callie walking towards me and Elizabeth followed her. I wish I could say what words entered my mind at that moment but it isn't appropriate.

There’s no easy way to tell anyone that you have an eating disorder, but for me it was a lot easier to tell Elizabeth than it was to tell my mom or anyone else in my family. I guess because at the time I really didn’t know Elizabeth and honestly I didn’t really care what she thought of me. So after about 5 minutes of silence I blurted it out “I think I have an eating disorder”. For some reason I was expecting Elizabeth to yell at me so I stared at my feet, but after about 30 seconds she still hadn’t started yelling I looked back up at her. She smiled at me “I’m glad you told me, I thought that you might”. I was relieved. For the next hour we talked and I left feeling like someone had violated my brain and picked my thoughts to pieces, but in a weird way that was a good feeling.

After months of long, exhausting conversations Elizabeth convinced me to tell my mom, and sure enough I found myself in a counselors office. This woman was crazy and she was OLD! I guessed that she was about 60. It was strange but before we jumped into talking about eating disorders I expected for her to pray with me, thats what Elizabeth did, but she didn't and I felt nervous the entire time. I remember raising my eyebrow when my mom asked me if I liked her. OOPS big mistake! My mom found me another counselor! This one was younger but I didn’t trust her like I trusted Elizabeth. Elizabeth said she was going to keep my secret, I believed her. This woman wrote everything I said down in a notebook. For some reason I had nightmares about reading my problems in the Daily Harold (no joke) I talked about everything with this counselor just not my eating disorder. She eventually told my mom that I was healed, and that I no longer showed any signs of having a eating disorder.

Well she was wrong.

The battle went on for many more years; of course the battle became secret. My mom, My dad, Callie, Elizabeth, everyone thought those days were behind me.

Little did I know my world was about to be ROCKED! (to be continued)

Just a thought about abortion...

I have said this probably 100 times on Facebook, Twitter, and even in person to my friends. I HATE T-shirts that say “Abortion is Murder”, “Abortion is Mean”, or any other harsh statements about abortion. I want to make sure I say that I AM PROLIFE but you will never see me in one of these harsh condemning shirts. I do believe that abortion is murder and since it is murder then it is “mean”. BUT when I try to imagine Jesus wearing a shirt that says, “Abortion is Murder” I honestly cannot picture it but maybe I am wrong.

I think about putting on a shirt that says something so cruel (to make it worse they also stamp bible verses on these things) and harsh and walking out into a world that is so broken and hurting. I think about that woman. The one who was young, scared and alone with a choice to make. I don’t imagine her laughing or smirking as life is ripped out of her. I see someone who is broken and filled with regret. She is someone who needs love not condemnation. So I think twice before I buy anything with slogans that might deeply hurt someone. I think about my sin, the sin that I struggle with and regret and the past that I have and how much it would hurt to see judgment stamped across a t-shirt of someone who calls themselves a child of the God who FORGIVES.

I do not condone abortion and if you ask me I will tell you that I believe abortion is wrong in EVERY circumstance. I believe that abortion is a major problem in this country and my heartaches when I think about it. I believe that abortion is evil but I also believe that the ONLY thing that can stop evil and hatred is goodness and Love! So be Pro-Life, advertise it, but advertise it in a way that makes God smile!

www.abort73.com