DIY - Changing the World - Beth Parent

The radio station that I listen to when I'm getting dressed every morning is a little bipolar. During the week, it's "adult contemporary," playing everything from The Commodores to Kelly Clarkson, but on Sunday mornings, it transforms into a contemporary Christian station. I don't understand this, but I'm too lazy to bother with turning the dial, so I just listen to it regardless of what's playing, whether I like it or not. What I don't like about adult (or any other) contemporary music can pretty much be summed up in two words: John Mayer. Don't ask me why, but I've never been a fan of his music. I just think he's a tad overrated, and "Your Body is a Wonderland" drives me up the wall. The one that really gets under my skin, though, and the one they play all the time on this radio station, is "Waiting on the World to Change." It's like the anthem for the apathetic.

Here's a guy with an unbelievable amount of influence and a platform from which millions of people hear him every day talking about how he's unhappy with the state of the world, but doesn't have the means to do anything about it? This is a dude who could suggest in a song that we make Peeps our national marshmallow mascot, and a million googly-eyed girls would leave Hollister and start a petition to make it happen for him. But instead, he's gallivanting around Italy with Jessica Simpson (well, maybe that's old news, but still...) talking about how tragic it is that there's just nothing we can do about anything. So we keep on waiting...

In the meantime, almost every Sunday morning, the same radio station plays a song by Natalie Grant called "What Are You Waiting For?" Grant asks the same questions that John Mayer does, but she comes to a very different conclusion about it all. She says, "Sometimes I feel a little helpless./ Seems like I can't do a thing,/ But anything is possible/ Just you wait and see.../ If I tried to make a difference, would it help anyway?/ But then I stop and to myself I say,/ So you want to change the world?/ What are you waiting for?"

I'm not saying we should only listen to Christian radio, and I certainly mean no personal affront to John Mayer, because we all float the blasé boat at times. It's a problem of our generation. He just happened to be the one to write a song about what we all feel at times. Sometimes I don't care, sometimes I'm lazy, and sometimes everything just seems pointless. I go to work, I go to the gym, I go home, I write an article for a little online magazine that not many people even know about. What am I doing that could possibly change the world? And then we get an email from a complete stranger, who somehow stumbled across our site, thanking us for what we are doing here, and it all makes sense. One word, one article, one woman at a time, we are doing our best to make Christ known. And that is not only world-changing; it is earth-shattering, purpose-giving and life-altering.

The dirtydish desires to cultivate a community of women who, through discussions, humor, stories, poetry, music and art, can fearlessly explore God together by opening up their hearts and minds to each other. Through these explorations, women may be able to gain and foster in each other integrity in friendships, work, the home and all areas of life and the strength to fearlessly take on life's problems with grace and honor as outlined by Biblical principles. The dirtydish also seeks to redeem culture and the arts by pursuing excellence so that the message of the cross is not only projected, but projected in such a way that God may be glorified by others seeing and responding to His unlimited creativity.

To that end, you're going to be seeing a lot of changes around here. And if you're so inclined, join us in changing both the dirtydish and the lives of those who read it. As the physical manifestation of Christ’s love in today’s world, we, His body, are called to use our talents and resources to love and redeem everything around us. We pray that God would use the dirtydish to do just that.

Returning to the Unchanging God - Megan Jerse

In the span of approximately one year I will: graduate college, move back to my hometown, start my first “real” job, get married, become a military wife and move away from my hometown to Maryland, move again to Kentucky four months later, and see my new husband off to war.

Gosh, I never saw this coming!

It’s a funny thing about change. I have always been mentally welcoming but practically begrudging of change. I have always been a planner- one who could not handle the unknown or be flexible enough to grasp a plan that wasn’t my own. Thankfully, God doesn’t really worry about my inflexibility- He does what he wants with my life and I get to come along for the ride.

In July of 2006 my boyfriend proposed to me. Very happily, I accepted. Sadly, just a month later we parted and returned to the drudgery of a long distance relationship—he was living in Utah while I was finishing up my last year of undergraduate study in New York City. I’m back in Utah now, and we’re reunited for the foreseeable future. Our marriage is just weeks away, and I am so thrilled with all this.

I have, however, had a few moments of severe panic. These feeling primarily focus on inadequacy within new territory. I have begun a new job and the reality that I am no longer in school anymore has only started to sink in. Instead of feeling “on top of my game” as a college senior, ready to accomplish the assignments given to me based on years of experience, I find myself in the middle of a workplace environment that is new and unrelenting. I frequently sense the urge to curl up under my desk and cry- weep, even- for the loss of my childhood. All at once these feelings overwhelm me. I won’t ever live with my parents. I won’t ever had the freedom of undergraduate school, the ease of dorm life, the comfort of home for extended periods of time.

For the first time in my life I am truly and independently as ever responsible for myself. Gulp.

Once I have these feeling, I like to find strategy to deal with them. What is so hard is that they are all very new- along with each situation I encounter. I find myself tending towards a hardness of heart and emotion. For some reason my brain believes that if I shut out the sadness, the rushes of fear, and even the excitement for change, that I’ll be dealing with all these changes in a healthier way. Fortunately, God has taken that tendency and brought it to my attention as an unhealthy coping mechanism. I have had to frequently pray that God would hold my bits and pieces together while still allowing me to FEEL. I have asked him to protect me from these feelings of inadequacy and fear, and to (please God!) turn me towards him with them instead of towards whatever I might seek to fill those holes.

While I am in the midst of feeling alternately ecstatic, nostalgic, and sad about graduating, I find that instead of welcoming those feelings and functioning while feeling them, I want to shut down. I want to order a cheeseburger with extra bacon and extra cheddar cheese, cheese fries, and a coke to fill in the places where I might feel sad or upset. I become short and often disrespectful to my parents, fiancé, and even my friends. I feel distracted and essentially end up focusing on MY problems, MY worries, and all the changes in MY life.

And there you have the problem. All of these things cause me to think of myself and how the changes are influencing me for good or bad. Assessing the change is ok, but allowing this time in my life to implode into self-pity, self-consciousness, self-anything is a problem. What God has done is give me blessing upon blessing. He has given me change as a gift and a growth area. He has also given me Himself to help deal with all of that.

A woman once said that she was so in love with her boyfriend that she had to ask God to take that love from her and hold it for her because she could not hold onto it herself without injuring herself and her beloved. This story continually echoes in my head, and I’ve realized I need God’s help with all this (imagine that). I’ve asked him to take all these feelings and hold them- the sadness, the fear, the excitement, ecstasy, and all the rest. This doesn’t mean I don’t feel them, but it means that I don’t have to rely on my human relationship to fully understand what I’m going through. I can rely on an all-powerful Creator and God to fill in my gaps of understanding, calm my fears, comfort my sadness, control my excitement.

Ultimately, I have not figured out how to deal with change other than to attempt greet it with open arms. I am fortunate in that each change I will experience is a beautiful and exciting one, even though they are hard. So for now I’ll look towards those changes and pray God will help me rise to the occasions, feel with healthy emotions, and avoid the self-focus that can hobble the good that is happening. May I and you “taste and see that the Lord is good,” even in the hours of change (Psalm 34:8).

Changes - Claire Cain

In the span of approximately one year I will: graduate college, move back to my hometown, start my first “real” job, get married, become a military wife and move away from my hometown to Maryland, move again to Kentucky four months later, and see my new husband off to war.

Gosh, I never saw this coming!

It’s a funny thing about change. I have always been mentally welcoming but practically begrudging of change. I have always been a planner- one who could not handle the unknown or be flexible enough to grasp a plan that wasn’t my own. Thankfully, God doesn’t really worry about my inflexibility- He does what he wants with my life and I get to come along for the ride.

In July of 2006 my boyfriend proposed to me. Very happily, I accepted. Sadly, just a month later we parted and returned to the drudgery of a long distance relationship—he was living in Utah while I was finishing up my last year of undergraduate study in New York City. I’m back in Utah now, and we’re reunited for the foreseeable future. Our marriage is just weeks away, and I am so thrilled with all this.

I have, however, had a few moments of severe panic. These feeling primarily focus on inadequacy within new territory. I have begun a new job and the reality that I am no longer in school anymore has only started to sink in. Instead of feeling “on top of my game” as a college senior, ready to accomplish the assignments given to me based on years of experience, I find myself in the middle of a workplace environment that is new and unrelenting. I frequently sense the urge to curl up under my desk and cry- weep, even- for the loss of my childhood. All at once these feelings overwhelm me. I won’t ever live with my parents. I won’t ever had the freedom of undergraduate school, the ease of dorm life, the comfort of home for extended periods of time.

For the first time in my life I am truly and independently as ever responsible for myself. Gulp.

Once I have these feeling, I like to find strategy to deal with them. What is so hard is that they are all very new- along with each situation I encounter. I find myself tending towards a hardness of heart and emotion. For some reason my brain believes that if I shut out the sadness, the rushes of fear, and even the excitement for change, that I’ll be dealing with all these changes in a healthier way. Fortunately, God has taken that tendency and brought it to my attention as an unhealthy coping mechanism. I have had to frequently pray that God would hold my bits and pieces together while still allowing me to FEEL. I have asked him to protect me from these feelings of inadequacy and fear, and to (please God!) turn me towards him with them instead of towards whatever I might seek to fill those holes.

While I am in the midst of feeling alternately ecstatic, nostalgic, and sad about graduating, I find that instead of welcoming those feelings and functioning while feeling them, I want to shut down. I want to order a cheeseburger with extra bacon and extra cheddar cheese, cheese fries, and a coke to fill in the places where I might feel sad or upset. I become short and often disrespectful to my parents, fiancé, and even my friends. I feel distracted and essentially end up focusing on MY problems, MY worries, and all the changes in MY life.

And there you have the problem. All of these things cause me to think of myself and how the changes are influencing me for good or bad. Assessing the change is ok, but allowing this time in my life to implode into self-pity, self-consciousness, self-anything is a problem. What God has done is give me blessing upon blessing. He has given me change as a gift and a growth area. He has also given me Himself to help deal with all of that.

A woman once said that she was so in love with her boyfriend that she had to ask God to take that love from her and hold it for her because she could not hold onto it herself without injuring herself and her beloved. This story continually echoes in my head, and I’ve realized I need God’s help with all this (imagine that). I’ve asked him to take all these feelings and hold them- the sadness, the fear, the excitement, ecstasy, and all the rest. This doesn’t mean I don’t feel them, but it means that I don’t have to rely on my human relationship to fully understand what I’m going through. I can rely on an all-powerful Creator and God to fill in my gaps of understanding, calm my fears, comfort my sadness, control my excitement.

Ultimately, I have not figured out how to deal with change other than to attempt greet it with open arms. I am fortunate in that each change I will experience is a beautiful and exciting one, even though they are hard. So for now I’ll look towards those changes and pray God will help me rise to the occasions, feel with healthy emotions, and avoid the self-focus that can hobble the good that is happening. May I and you “taste and see that the Lord is good,” even in the hours of change (Psalm 34:8).

The Birth Control Pill - Amy Gusefski

I imagine most women have about the same experiences with birth control that I did. I have never had a regular cycle, it’s either 60 days or 36 or whatever it feels like that month. My doctor never seemed very concerned and I didn’t have cramps or a heavy flow, so neither of us chose to do anything about it. Once I tried ortho-tricyclin for a few weeks but it made me so depressed I stopped it quickly.

About the time I got married, I asked my doctor if I could try the same type of birth control pill (BCP) my sister used since it had lower hormone levels. My fiancé and I were applying to the Peace Corps, so my doctor and I discussed a few other suggestions for birth control, such as condoms or an IUD. I don’t remember a lot of information on side effects of the Pill or even how it really works.

Most of the time, we know the Pill basics. A woman takes a pill containing hormones which either prevent ovulation or keep a fertilized egg from implanting. The pill cycle is 21 days, then you take a placebo for 7 days allowing you to have a fake period. It is a fake period, because your body is not creating a uterine lining capable of sustaining a baby, so the menstrual blood is just bleeding.

For nearly 3 years, I took a BCP every single day. In January I decided to limit the hormones and chemicals I take every day, so I started looking into other birth control options.

I started by learning about the reproductive cycle and how the pill works. In a nut shell, our bodies are pretty much awesome. I started reading the book Taking Control of Your Fertility (not to worry, it’s about more than having babies) and learned so much about my body and how it works. I’m 27, but I felt so naïve! You have 4 hormones that work in tandem to guide your body through the process of preparing for pregnancy, releasing an egg, checking to see if it’s fertilized, then shedding the uterine lining and starting all over. Most BCPs work by changing those hormones – either to ensure you won’t ovulate or couldn’t sustain a pregnancy if you did.

All this hormone manipulation does involve side effects for some women. On ortho-tri-cyclin, I was horribly depressed. On a lower dose of estrogen, I didn’t have any side effects at all. Some of my friends have had severe nausea, decreased sex drive, headaches, weight gain, or pain during sex. If you ever have any of these symptoms or feelings, please talk to your doctor. She can work with you to find another BCP that wouldn’t have these effects or help you explore other options for birth control that don’t involve hormones.

It is sad and sends the wrong message to women to make it seem as if changing our bodies so radically is the only or best option for birth control. I read an opinion piece in the New York Times regarding the new BCP coming out which will give women the option of never having a period. First of all, this isn’t a completely good idea, in case you end up in the 2% who conceive while on the pill – you wouldn’t know for a long time! But second, this pill and what I anticipate its marketing to be will send the message to women the period is not acceptable, desirable, or even manageable. I prefer the Native American method of the moon tent. A woman’s period is seen as a time to take a break, connect with other women, and be creative. To me, that is a lot more empowering (and fun) than being told there is something wrong with me.

After doing a lot of reading, research, and talking to my friends and women older than me, I chose to stop taking the pill. It didn’t seem fair to me to change the hormones in my body, making me responsible for obtaining a prescription, filling it, taking it, and bearing any side effects. My husband is part of our sexual relationship as well, and he should be a part of pregnancy prevention. All parts of this would impact him, so it’s reasonable to make him part of the process.

My point here is to give you something to think about and perhaps spark a little of your own research into the matter, not to dictate a “right” way or a “wrong” way to approach your body, birth control, and family planning. There are lots of options, from barrier methods, abstaining, natural family planning, to spermicides and IUDs.

I know women are at different life stages, and one method that works for me may not be comfortable, effective, or practical for someone else. Some women’s bodies have terrible symptoms around their cycle, and the BCP allows women to control cramping, depression, and exhaustion. I can’t possibly provide all the medical information out there, and I am not a doctor, so definitely do not make changes without talking to yours.

Finding Freedom in Disease - Jennifer Haydysch

Has anyone ever noticed life is hard and often unfair? Knowing these two points can often affect one’s ability to find joy in trials and tribulations. As everyone else, I have also experienced my share of struggles. In June 2003, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. In basic terms, Crohn’s disease is a chronic inflammatory disease of the digestive track and can affect anything from the mouth to the large intestine. It is often characterized by abdominal pain, ulcers, and tissue inflammation. When diagnosed, I knew very well what the disease entailed as my roommate had been diagnosed just six months earlier. My gastroenterologist, in an attempt to keep the situation optimistic provided me his perspective on the disease, saying, “For most people, it doesn’t affect their life, it can be just an annoyance at times.” And with that statement began my life as a Crohn’s patient.

Initially, in an attempt to keep the disease stabilized, I was placed on 12 pills a day. As side symptoms of Crohn’s began to appear (such as acid reflux and slowness in food leaving the stomach) additional pills were added. I had my first flare in December 2003. As I would quickly discover with flares, food was the enemy and the bathroom my greatest friend. I dropped 10-15 pounds during that flare and found myself in many scuffles with my parents regarding my food choices. During flares, nothing would stay down and everything was painful. As a result, I never wanted to eat; it just wasn’t worth the repercussions. Watching a daughter’s weight drop is hard on parents, and we would have routine outings to the grocery store walking every row looking for anything I was willing to eat. Finally, I found baked potatoes and Hawaiian bread! Every meal for the next couple weeks incorporated some form of these items. My birthday is on Christmas Eve, and I was turning 21 that year. As usual, I helped my mom put together our traditional brunch for the family to celebrate and I made my own birthday cake. As everyone was enjoying the tasty delights, I was once again eating a baked potato and Hawaiian bread. I did not go out to celebrate becoming legal drinking age as planned because I didn’t know if it was a safe thing to do with my condition.

It was a tough birthday, and many other tough flares would occur (to be specific, at the end of every semester). Because of the progression of my disease, my local gastroenterologist sent me to UNC Hospital, where I am now a patient. I went through various stages of steroids, being placed on prednisone a couple times and physically blowing up like a balloon. Once, when my flare did not appear to be reacting to the prednisone, my doctor considered putting me on Remicade (an IV treatment with potentially severe side effects) temporarily to bring my body back under control.

By Fall 2005, frequent flares had produced scarring in my intestine, which was creating a permanent blockage. Where most individuals have 2 centimeters in diameter, I had less than 2 millimeters. Because I was in the middle of a semester, I was placed on additional medications to assist with flow until I could have surgery over Christmas break to have part of my intestines removed. Surgery was the hardest battle I undertook. Most Crohn’s patients will say stay away from surgery if possible or you will find yourself in and out of the operating room slowing removing the entire colon and/or small intestine. I knew with scarring, surgery is the only option, but I had never had to allow my mind to enter that arena before. Much was learned during that experience. In preparation, weekly, if not daily, I found myself reading the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego (Daniel 3) as they stood before Pharoh and declared, “…the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." This verse became my power verse. It took a long time before I could stand and verbally speak these words with belief and authority. God did have the ability to cure me. This disease was not outside his control. Secondly, even if he chose not to cure me whether through the surgery or miraculously, regardless, I would worship him still.

The day of the surgery arrived. I was overcome with a spiritual peace. I knew I would make it through, and I knew God was working the hands of my surgeon. I had assumed my time of growth through this experience was complete, but the Lord had more planned. After four days in the hospital, I was allowed to come home only to awake the next morning throwing up and in unimaginable pain. From my parent’s house, over an hour and a half away from the hospital, I was taken back to Chapel Hill and readmitted for an additional 4 days. Thankfully, I made it out just in time for my birthday and Christmas. Through the next week, I continued with my rehabilitation plan set by my surgeon, which included lots of walking each day. I began to find I had higher and higher temperatures in the evening, a growing cramp-like pain in my abdomen, an inability to go to the bathroom, and an uncontrollable clear substance being secreted at handfuls at a time. I went back to Chapel Hill for some tests. All blood work showed I was perfectly healthy with only one test slightly higher than normal, but nothing to cause alarm. I was told to go back home and if problems persisted to come back in a few days for a complete body scan. That night, tired of being forced to wear a diaper and undergo the growingly painful stabs in my abdomen, I decided I would go back in that next day and not wait any longer. I knew by the look on the face of the individual performing my scan the next day that something odd was found. Afterwards, I was informed I had a grapefruit size abscess that had formed as a result of the surgery, which needed to be drained immediately! To this day, my doctor didn’t know how I could even walk and if left untreated for a couple more days, I could have died. I underwent another procedure to drain the abscess; 500mL of fluid was drained and a catheter was implanted to allow the abscess to continue to drain for a couple weeks. Up until this point, I had not eaten after the surgery and had lost significant weight. Finally, my hunger returned and life started to look somewhat normal again. I started the spring semester a few days later.

I know you are probably thinking, man I’m glad I don’t have that disease. To be honest, looking back, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Praise the Lord, since surgery I have been flare free and incurred no direct Crohn’s related health issues. Yes, I do still take medications everyday and being a Crohn’s patient does affect how I can be treated medically in every aspect of my health, but for now, the tough stuff is over.

God has revealed himself in an incredibly real way through these experiences. Since my initial diagnosis I have met multiple individuals who also suffer from the disease or its sister disease ‘ulcerative colitis’. Words do not describe the peace a person with this disease can feel when being able to share with another who truly understands their pains. Furthermore, I had learned the beauty of leaving the future in God’s hands and not knowing what is coming. I continually praise the Lord that I did not know the sequence of events surrounding my surgery. By not knowing, I could just sit in his presence and cry out and thank him over and over that he was there with me and he was making sure I was not encountering more than I could bear. Furthermore, not knowing what was about to arise gave me the ability to focus only on the moment at hand. When back in the ER the day after being released experiencing some of the greatest pain I have ever known and being given no medical attention due to all staff’s involvement in code red, God had the ability to keep whispering in my ear, “Only a moment longer. Trust me. I’m here.” To which I continued to verbally respond, “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.”

Each of us will encounter really hard times in our life. It’s not a bet; it’s a guarantee. When I feel a major trial setting in, I look back at this period of my life and am reminded of how God stands by us, how much we grow as Christians through these events, and that at the end we will be able to count it all as blessings. Do I count this as a blessing? Absolutely. I was given a rare privilege to see God in a unique and majorly real way, and I wouldn’t have traded it for the world!! Therefore, next time a trial comes your way, count it as an opportunity to learn to trust God more because in the end, you will look back and say, “Thank you, God for that moment!” Stand before God and read Daniel 3. Pray over those words until your emotions finally synchronize themselves with what your heart knows and believes: I have a God who is big enough and strong enough to take this trial from me, but even if he chooses to not, I will continue to fall down before him and worship him because he is an amazing God.

Miscarriage and Couples - Truly Gwaltney

Miscarriage has become a huge underground struggle in American families. Over 15% of pregnancies are lost each year. That percentage didn’t scare me when I first found out that I was pregnant. I was young, healthy, strong, and none of my friends had experienced one. But I was very naïve.

Only 6 weeks into my pregnancy I lost the baby. I hadn’t fallen, or done anything that I wasn’t supposed to. I took my vitamins and ate all the healthy food I could stand. It just didn’t make any sense. No one even seemed surprised when they found out. My mother (who also lost her first) just kept telling me that it was OK and that she felt so sorry for me. I wasn’t sure if she really understood or if she just said that to make me stop crying. I wasn’t even crying because I was that upset over the miscarriage itself. I was crying because I was scared. What if something was wrong with me? What if I could never have children? Why did it happen to me but none of my friends? I was confused and angry.

My husband tried to help, but he was going through his own stuff at the time. He was really upset that he was never going to meet his first child. He kept saying that he hoped the baby would be in heaven. That was the last thing on my mind, though. I was caught up in the fact that something was probably wrong with me and that I would be the only person I knew who could not have children. In my mind my household consisted only of my husband and I… and whatever animals we decided to fill it with. I was positive that God was messing with my head. I hadn’t been completely sure that the timing had been right to begin with, but once we found out that we really were pregnant everything seemed to click. It was like God had given us a gift and a direction, then just took it away and messed our newly married life up. I didn’t want to blame God, but if not Him, who? It made sense at the time.

So, I would hurt God the way that He hurt me. I stopped going to church, having time with Him, or really even praying. I pretty much cut myself off from Him completely, and in doing so, cut myself off from my husband, too. My husband just didn’t understand why I couldn’t be comfortable in church, or why I never wanted to have devotions with him anymore. While he was leaning totally on God, I was running in the opposite direction. We didn’t even talk anymore. It was like we were roommates who weren’t completely comfortable with each other. It took weeks for us to be able to have a decent conversation.

When my marriage finally started to feel like it was OK again, work started to suck. I couldn’t stand any of the people that we were hiring. Where I was needed before, I was no longer needed. When one part of my life started to work again, another part started to crash.

Of course, the only place that I knew that I could go was to God. I felt ashamed for my petty anger. I knew that He hadn’t done anything to hurt me, and yet I put all of the blame on Him. I started praying again. One night, after my husband was asleep, I prayed that God would use the loss of the baby for good. I felt like God was saying that even through something horrible, He can and does bring good. Even though it was hard to talk to or be around my husband right after the loss, eventually our relationship grew stronger and deeper. My walk with God also became stronger than it was before. I see Him in a different light than I did before. My relationship with God had always been close, but before I saw Him as an escape from my trouble and pain. Now I understand that He sometimes has to lead us through pain. It sucks, but He doesn’t let it end there. My husband and I are pregnant again. I am a little unsure about whether to be skeptical or overjoyed…. But I know that whatever happens that God will use it for His best.

Ideal Beauty - K. Kinsella

A few months ago headlines were made when a Brazilian beauty, Ana Caroline Reston, died as a result of complications from anorexia. This young girl, a model, had walked catwalks across Europe and Japan. She was tall, slender and seemed to be on the brink of a lucrative career in modeling. She succumbed to the pressure, as many women do, to be ultra thin to fit into a certain ideal; to have that sex appeal the consumers crave. Unfortunately her death was not an isolated incident. Last August another model, Luisel Ramos of Uruguay, collapsed while on a runway and subsequently died of heart failure.

The fallout from these deaths caused Spain’s fashion houses to require that the models in their shows have a certain body mass index (BMI) of at least 18 before being allowed down the runway. Prime time news stories reported on the dangers of how the fashion industry as well as Hollywood showcases extremely thin women as what it means to be beautiful. The covers of tabloids were splashed with wafer thin actresses and celebutants criticizing them for their dangerous physique and for being poor role models for young women.

While it is nice that the issue has been getting attention, there is still a gravely fine line between what is considered “beautiful” and what is fatally thin. It is easy to see how many women who strive to transform themselves into the mainstream ideal can end up spiraling out of control, ultimately putting their lives at risk.

Sadly this drive for ideal beauty is not just a Westernized concept. I recently came across a BBC article by Pascale Harter about women from Mauritania, a country halfway across the globe, with a completely different concept of beauty, but all the while just as risky. These women are not starving themselves to be beautiful; they are eating…a lot.

The traditional standard of beauty amongst Mauritanian nomadic people is a large robust woman. These large women are considered healthy and desirable. The belief that heavy equals healthy is certainly a foreign concept to us in the West, but for this region of the world it makes sense. This is a country where HIV and AIDS are rampant and being extremely thin is often linked with the disease. So naturally women want to disassociate themselves with this illness as much as possible. However, just like in the West were we have a fine line between beautiful and starvation, Mauritania has a fine line between desirable and morbidly obese.

How is it that these women become so large? Well in order for young girls to develop the robust ideal they are often force fed gallons of milk and pounds of couscous each day. In this culture the women are proud of their stretch marks and the flaps of skin that hang down from their upper arms.

Parts of this might sound somewhat appealing to us in the West, no more skipping on desserts or passing up that fully loaded soda, this is just another extreme of feminine beauty being based on unrealistic standards. Mauritanian women believe that they are helping their daughters by fattening them up in order to have their pick of eligible men. Unfortunately this motherly help is creating a lifetime of hardships. These women are facing problems associated with the morbidly obese such as joint trouble, early onset diabetes, heart disease and a low mortality rate.

While many still believe that the Mauritanian men are only attracted to the pleasantly plump variety of the opposite sex, some views are changing. As a result of the shifting climate and a dwindling food supply, many nomadic people are being forced to move into the cities where they are being exposed to different ideals of beauty. Thin celebrities on television are creating new standards for how woman should look. Even though this change is promising, I can’t help but wonder if the transition from fat to fit will lead them from one extreme to another?

After discussing two extremes of feminine beauty, I have to keep asking myself why in any part of the world are women killing themselves to be considered beautiful? And if we achieve this standard of beauty will we be happy? The answer is a resounding, NO! It does not matter if we starve ourselves or stuff ourselves women should never put their lives at risk to fit into someone else’s standard of beauty.

The only ideal that any woman should ever strive for is one that is healthy based on her own body type. There are some women that no matter what will always be very slender or very voluptuous, but regardless of size, the only thing that really matters is that you are healthy.

I was pleasantly surprised when Dove recently launched its new ad campaign celebrating real beauty. Their commercials showcased women of all shapes and sizes as beautiful. Again I was thrilled when several actresses such as Jennifer Lopez, Kate Winslet, and America Ferrera spoke proudly about not giving in to the pressure of the ultra thin ideal.

Now I can push the idea all day that women should celebrate their healthy bodies, but living this daily celebration can be a real struggle. Certain standards of beauty have become so engrained into our lives that is seems impossible to break away from them.

I personally find this to be quite challenging. I want to have a fit body, one that will aid me in athletic endeavors and a long healthy life. There are times when I still can’t help but compare myself to other women. For example, I have a very dear friend who has always been very slender. I know that I could never be the same size as she is, but I have moments when I see myself beside her in a mirror and I feel like a cow. I have to remind myself that as women we come in all different shapes and sizes and I should be proud of who I am. I know that I eat fairly well and I run regularly, but those moments of doubt about my physical size still creep up from time to time. And it just keeps getting harder as I get older, my metabolism is slowing, things are not as perky as they once were and dimples are showing up in places other than my face. I just have to keep reminding myself that someone else’s standard of beauty is not a healthy fit for me (or any woman really).

I am happy to say that I had a break though moment a few weeks ago. My slender friend and I were out at a restaurant and we were both doing the typical quick clothing check in the restaurant's bathroom mirror. I looked at myself and I looked at my friend and I thought, you know I’m really not too shabby. It was the first time in as long as I can remember where I was not comparing myself to any one else and it felt really great! When you break it all down, what really is beautiful is a woman who is happy, healthy and confident with herself no matter what size.

LOVE TRIANGLE: Navigating the Single Life in Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill - V. Hebert

Humble Pie is not just the name of a, uh, humble yet fantastic bakery and tapas restaurant in downtown Raleigh (ladies, be sure to check out the beveled mirror in the equally fabulous powder room). It’s also, according to Merriam-Webster, a meat pie made of the inferior parts of a deer or hog. Okay, that’s pretty gross, downright disgusting really. Which is why I think the phrase “to eat humble pie” came to mean to admit you were wrong about something: apologies are often tough, hard to swallow even – much like food made with inferior bits of meat. For some reason, humility just isn’t something most of us wear well. I for one don’t like admitting I am wrong almost as much as I hate admitting I’m flawed.

Which is why I think it’s taken me almost a year to write this latest installment of Love Triangle. I am down-right humbled by the reality I write a column about dating and the journey that is singleness. I am humbled because my infrequent opportunities to relate to the Average Joe generally cool off faster than a cup of Joe. And I, more often than I’d like to admit, curse this stage of my life despite the fact it is the only time where I, as a single, can remotely get away with being completely selfish as there is no one person who needs me to be selfless all the time. Bottom line: I feel completely unprepared—a total wreck really—when it comes to both dating and singleness. And although I began this journey as a columnist hoping I wouldn’t cram unsolicited life-advice down readers’ throats, I know my own tendency to look to others for the right words, for answers to life’s big questions, some sort of comfort, a hope to cling to – and I think you, my dear readers, can’t be too different from me. So here I go again, spouting a piece of my life story with the sincere hope that some hope will sprout through for you. And possibly for me, too.

Despite my attempts to deny it, I can’t escape the fact that I am human. And, after disclosing my tendencies to wind-up in ridiculously bad relationships and my cheating past (read my previous columns to refresh your memory), there’s no denying my weak, corrupt, and broken-down self. So, as I embrace an understanding of my relationships, I must also embrace the long road to understanding my tendency to look toward all sorts of stuff as an inventory of self-worth. This stuff includes, but is not limited to, my work, my material possessions, and other people and their work and their material possessions. I like this method of inventory when my work is satisfying, friendships are deep and trouble-free, there is the slightest possibility of a boyfriend, and I sport the latest in clothing, technology, and whatever else is trendy. And sadly enough, I find “my success” is even sweeter when other people aren’t having as easy a time at life as I am. Yes, friends, my depravity runs thick and deep.

I like this system even if only “The Big Three” fall into place: work, friends, and the love/like/passing flirtation of a guy. And for a split-second this past fall, this trifecta actually fell into place for me. I was entering into the third month of a fantastic job after spending almost three years selling my soul for a paycheck. I, the gal who had had her share of failed friendships with other women, had stumbled across a fantastic group of them who were accepting and affirming. And here’s the kicker: I, who thought there was no promise of love on the horizon, fell foolishly head over heals into it. It wasn’t perfect and he certainly was the very last person I thought I’d fall for. But our relationship felt honest, and despite the weird and painful circumstances of our separate pasts, it seemed we could work together to start anew. I had no idea if we would last or crash, yet I felt sure I had met someone who would honor me no matter what surfaced. There was some inexplicable sense of security that I wasn’t going to, as my wise friend and fellow Dirty Dish Beth says, “get my neck stomped on.” After so many failed relationships, so much heartbreak, I felt like Sarah must have felt after conceiving her son Isaac well-past the age for childbearing: I laughed and delighted in what appeared to be an instance of God’s ridiculous grace.

Then he was gone. One night he was thoughtful, but the next 250 or so nights he was nothing: no call, no note, no messenger to say that he’d lost interest, lost his mind, lost something. I called, wrote, talked to his friend, asked his friend to talk to another friend – everything short of pounding on his door to demand an explanation.

I would like to report I took this dating disaster in stride, that I gave the defunct relationship its due week of mourning and completely moved past it quickly. But despite still having meaningful work and wonderfully supportive friends, not to mention challenging spiritual community, safe (if not fabulous) roof over my head, and food in my belly, I was fixated on the one person who walked away. I obsessed over figuring out what really happened while giving up on my self-worth despite all that I have in my very middle-class, very privileged life. I felt empty and only capable of clawing at the next new thing, which usually meant the next new person to fill the hole in my heart. In the end, the new stuff didn’t satisfy either. Nothing I’ve ever done to fill the void du jour has worked, and I am tired from living out this miserably fruitless existence.

But with the little seed of faith Someone placed in my heart, I have begun to trust that some other life is possible. Didn’t Jesus say, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light?” He beckons us to come to Him, learn from Him, lean on Him, and find rest for our weary souls. And yet, I am stubborn and often reject this gentle, humble gift. But my refusals are futile: God has and will never cease to beat on the battered door of my heart. What my pride refuses to let me do in regards to my lost love, God does not think twice to do with me. He gently shouts,

These thoughts you have about being worthless – it isn’t so. You are My daughter, My most beloved. Everything I have – My love, My strength, My mercies – all of it is yours and it is more than plenty. Come to Me My love, let Me in. Let Me show you who you really are.

When anyone turns their hearts to [Me], the veil of darkness [self-reliance, self-hatred, anger, restlessness] is taken away. Now [I] am the Spirit, and where the Spirit is, there is freedom. [2 Corinthians 3.16-17]

So I elaborate a bit on Scripture, but my head has no problem thinking all of this is a bona fide guarantee from God. I am not the girl some guy rejected, but the child God accepts. God doesn’t judge me on my 9-5 existence or what I am able to accomplish in the other hours of the day, and I’ve been wrong to think that I have to have my act together before I can go to Him. In reality though, He only cares that I turn to Him and trust Him to provide all that I need physically, emotionally, spiritually. And while seemingly impossibly crazy, it is indeed true: realizing I’ve been wrong for so long about so much, while completely leveling me to the ground, has also completely freed me from immeasurable insecurity and countless pressures. If this is what it means to eat humble pie in the company of God, I can’t wait for a second slice.



**Virginia apologizes profusely for her absence from the DDO scene: shiftings of a professional, geographical, and emotional nature kept her from her keyboard for a very long time. She is happy to report she no longer works in partisan politics, now lives within walking distance of some of her favorite haunts, and recovery from her broken heart is complete. She was wrong to stay away so long, relishes her return to writing, and is thankful she still has an audience for confessing her dating mishaps. Well, her fingers are crossed. Want to accept her and her apology? Blog her.

Tansition - M. Metzler

Transition. Well for lack of a better phrasing, transition sucks. I feel like the past 3 years have been constant transition. Basically it consisted of graduation, moving, job changes, marriage, moving again, and more job changes. However, my life starting in about 6 weeks will be extremely full of transition. Sam will be starting law school in the fall. And I’ve been really excited for him. (We’ll deal with that verb tense in a bit). I’m also beginning seminary in the fall, part time, while I work.

Marriage is a funny beast. We had to work very hard the first 7 months. I finally realized that I had to let go of the things I thought were “preserving” my independence and to put my marriage in the priority that it should have been in the first place. Talk about a transition, that sucker kicked me in my face! But as soon as I got to that point, it was a completely different marriage. So, here comes my big moment, what I learned from that transition, it’s coming back to haunt me, to test to me and see if I have what it takes to put it into action.

I was in a good place, realizing that Sam is my priority under the Lord. I was good with that. That is, until it was challenged. I was so excited when Sam realized what he wanted to do. And he got into law school and we celebrated! Then, the Lord brought to my attention what I wanted to do: counsel women. So, I applied to seminary and got into the Masters in Counseling program. In theory, it was a great plan for him to do law school full time for three years. I could handle working full time (that whole eating thing is a good thing to hold onto) and the program I am enrolled in is pretty manageable to do part time since most of the classes are on the weekends. Then, Sam switched to working part-time this past month until he starts school. And I wake up in the morning to a job that I hate and watch him sleep. This bitterness I know is prideful and sinful. But it’s there. Satan creeps his sneaky self in there saying, “He gets to do what he wants to do full time, why can’t you?”

So, here’s the transition part. Do I transition into actually living out what I said on my wedding day? I believe it went “With all that I am, with all that I have, I honor you.” I can tell you that the things I say under my breath or the way I throw my alarm clock or the thoughts that go through my head each morning are NOT honoring Sam…..or the Lord for that matter. So, how do I carry this transition out?

Well, like most things, prayer has helped. Talking to Sam has helped too. Sharing the struggle to share dreams, share lives, turned out to be a pretty mutual struggle…. or a table for two if you will, and I will. Being able to share that with him made it so much easier… probably because I didn’t feel like such a terrible person. I also have to rest in His promise “For my yoke is easy and my burden is light”. How simple, yes, I am supposed to carry this burden but it’s supposed to be light. If I rest with Him, rest in Him, then He will make my burden light. Sounds simple right? Not easy, but simple.

I wish I had a simple step by step solution to how to trust the Lord and how to transition gracefully but I’m still figuring it out myself. For one, taking it day by day has been huge. Setting aside some time to revel in the things that are permanent in my life, like my friends or my family. Also, I’m trying to change my prayer life. Instead of focusing all my time on what I want, when I want it, and how I want it, I spend time in thanksgiving. Even when I’m hearing the alarm go off, or sitting under fluorescent lights all day, I pray in thanksgiving that I have a paycheck, that I have a husband, that I have health insurance. All of the things that this situation brings me, I still thank Him for it because He has me here right now. So those are just two things that I’m working on, I’m sure everyone has different ways of coping with transition. Who knows, maybe my next article will be about how I’ve all of a sudden come across a crazy old lady who wants to pay all of our bills so I can go to school full time.