I have recently become more than slightly obsessed with Pinterest!

Basically Pinterest collects the creative ideas people come across while roaming the web and have “pinned” onto virtual cork boards. You then organize as them as  you want to share them. It’s recipes, crafts, photos, quotes, you think of it – most likely someone pinned it.

I’m addicted – not only for the excitement for my creative future, but for the nostalgia of the past.

On almost every page that visit - I say.. Hey, my mom did that!!

Before there was Pinterest, there was Toni Stein. A great mom. Creativity to the core. Girl Scout leader, PTO room mom, head of the party committee, head of the holiday craft committees, decorating and making memories.

Before there was Pinterest, my mom taught me, homemade is best – always. Food, clothing, costumes. Homemade is best.

Before there was Pinterest, my mom was doing “fishtails” and intricate braids in my hair.

Before there was Pinterest, my mom was making heart-shaped cupcakes, and carving that watermelon into shapes you wouldn’t believe until you saw it.

Before there was Pinterest, my mom was making flowers out of tissue paper, shrunken apple heads, and tin can meals, and crafts from my hand-prints.

Before there was Pinterest, my mom was making “swimming pools” out of blue jello, and rafts out of gummy life savers – all for the Teddy Grahams that were also “swimming” at my pool party.

Before there was Pinterest, my mom was making soaps and candles, and homemade play-dough, and color changing flowers, and she allowed me to make tents, out of her sheets, that ripped her wall paper. Hours were spent making homes and mazes out of cardboard boxes.

Before there was Pinterest, my mom made complete ecosystems, in glass bottles. And bird feeders out of pine cones.

Before there was Pinterest, my mom rocked. She didn’t rely on websites, or big budgets for projects. She made the most of what we had, and made it an amazing childhood.

Thanks mom. I love you. Way more than Pinterest.

Sorry radio guy, not true. It’s Jesus. Alone.

The miraculous birth of Christ has been diluted to Santa, commercialism, traditions, and maybe mentioning Jesus in a carol or two during “holiday music”.

The glorious resurrection of Christ has been diminished to a Bunny, hidden eggs, and stale marshmallow chicks, the name Jesus is almost forbidden in these “Spring” celebrations.

But until this morning I thought Good Friday still stood alone. Untainted. Holy. Set apart. A solemn day for us to remember – to remember Christ.

Jesus, the Christ. The Song of the Living God. The Messiah. The Redeemer.

It is Jesus, and only Jesus, who provides atonement for our sin against God.

But we don’t want to think about that. The need for atonement. The need for forgiveness. That we are infected and made unclean by our sin. That by our chosing the things of the world (darkness) above God (light), over and over and over again has separated us from God. How even our best works are considered dirty menstrual rags. How our sin, our iniquity, like the wind, sweeps us away.

We don’t want to think that we are like sheep without a Shepard, that we are dumb animals who left to ourselves would starve, or follow each other off a cliff. That we have chosen to go astray.

We don’t want to think of the great cost that was paid to reconcile us to God. That Jesus was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our sins. And that God laid upon him the guilt of us all. That God’s wrath was satisfied in Jesus. The wrath meant for me. Satisfied in Jesus.

But what is even harder for me to accept is that this depravity, my wickedness, is covered, eclipsed by love. By a perfect love. Unfailing love. Strong powerful love.

Don’t just skim over these thruths. Let them sink in. Again, for the first time.

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.

That for the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. 

But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared,  he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior,  so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.  For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. 

That’s what makes this Friday scandalously Good. Not “spring, pastel colors, love and peace.” It’s Christ – and Christ Alone.

Where is Jesus in all of this mess? Where is the Christ in Christmas?

Let’s rewind.

It all started with the night that Jesus, the Son of God, came to earth as a baby to redeem us, to buy us back, from the bondage of sin, that we choose.

There were no icicle lights, no inflatable “decorations”.  Just stars.

There were no songs about Mommy Kissing Santa.  But there was a  great company of the heavenly host appearing with an angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

There wasn’t even room in the inn.  Our Lord was born among the manure.

Jesus came to give us what we needed the most. Life. I invite you this Christmas to do the same.

Let me introduce you to my dear friends Stephen and Aby Nelms. I was there when they met. I stood beside them, wearing an eggplant colored dress, on their wedding day.  We have dreamed dreams and planted ministries together. We cry so hard we laugh. And we laugh so hard we pee. And now they live 7786.3 Miles away.

They have walked away from the American Dream. Stephen, a  wildly successful stockbroker in New York City, left it all to become a pastor in the suburbs, and left it all again to go to the villages of Zambia. Aby, a brilliantly talented professional photographer, walked away by her husband’s side with their two adorable babies in tow.

They are surrounded by people who don’t speak their language and don’t “get them”. They live among strangers, some of which have scammed them. They don’t have a car. They barely have electricity. They can’t update their blog, and main source of “Marketing and Fundraising” because they have very limited internet access.  When there is not a flood of too much water, they only have running water two hours a day.

They have a vision to give what the Zambians need most. Life. Life through Christ. So like Jesus, they surrendered their idea of comfort for a greater cause. They are valuing the Zambians higher than themselves.

If you were going to give me a gift this Christmas. Please reconsider.

I don’t want another sweater. I don’t need a snow globe or a scented candle.

I am requesting that whatever amount you would have spent on a gift, wrapping and postage, please give it to Stephen and Aby instead.

You can send it to me, and I will forward to Stephen and Aby.

You can donate to them directly through Gospelink.

https://www.nfpsystems.com/contrib/contrib.asp?org=180

Scroll down to #22 Other Needs. Type in Give Life, Stephen and Aby, and the amount you would like to donate.

Join me this Christmas in redeeming this holiday season. Taking it back to where it began. Jesus.

By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth 1 John 3: 16-18

http://silvaniphoto.wordpress.com/ (Aby’s blog where you can find ministry opportunities and updates)

http://www.givelifeproject.com/ (The online “home” for Aby and Stephen’s ministry)

I want a heart that forgives,

A heart full of love.

One with compassion just like Yours above.

One that over comes evil with goodness and love.

Like it never happened, never holding a grudge.

I want a heart that forgives that lives and lets live.

One that keeps loving over and over again.

One that men can’t offend, because Your word is within.

One that loves without price like you lord Jesus Christ.

I want a heart that loves everybody, even my enemies.

I want to love like You,

be like You,

just like You did.

I want a heart that forgives.

I want a heart that forgives,

When the ones that are closest , that I’ve known the longest

hurt me the most; I still wanna love them just like You loved me

Even though I’m hurting.

I want a heart that forgives,

when the pain is so deep and it’s so hard  to speak about it to anyone.

Just like your Son, I give up my rights to hold it against them with hatred inside.

I want a heart that loves everybody, even my enemies.

I wanna love like You,

be like You,

just like You did.

I want to walk like You,

talk like You,

just like You did,

I want to be like You

live like You,

just like You did.

Because the heart that forgives,

is the heart that will live totally free from the pain of the past.

The heart that lets go,

is the heart that will know so much freedom.

Lord, I want to let it go.

God, I need to let it go.

Lord, it’s been holding me back.

And I don’t want it, I don’t want it, I don’t want it anymore.

I don’t know exactly what to do to get rid of it.

Here I am, Lord Jesus.

Here I am.

I need You. I need You.

Dear Maura,

While playing on Facebook this morning, I noticed that a fellow blogger, journalist for the Palm Beach Post , and a friend who I know slightly in real life, but mostly through Facebook, blogs and emails , Leslie Gray Streeter had posted a link to your now infamous article.

Just last night in my “life of love” group this bible verse was brought up.

A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control. (Prov 29:11)

I obviously didn’t retain that. Or represent a “life of love”.  So, I vented, and I foolishly wrote you an open letter. I was so proud of myself. I had said most of what I wanted to say while trying not to attack you personally.   ”You” became that voice in my head that told me I was fat an ugly and disgusting my whole life, and I finally had “your” email address. I had finally told off  the girl who always picked on me, the voice that never left me. I was even interviewed for The Palm Beach Post. My friends rallied around me.

They told me how beautiful I am.

They told me I was a great writer.

They told me I was witty.

They told me I was snarky.

Then, I was told I was mean. (I did say I would hug you if I didn’t want to strangle you. Ouch.)

Much to my surprise, you responded personally, in humility. You told me I was right. And very few times have I ever felt so very wrong.  We have since exchanged several emails. You told me of people who have told you to go hang yourself.  How sad you are and how you have spent your time  today responding personally to most emails. As of this letter, you have over 2,200 comments, on the Marie Claire site alone.  That is one heck of a bad day for you. I didn’t see that. I needed to be heard. I kicked you while you were down, and snidely offered you calorie-free humble pie.

I have apologized to you privately, and would now like to do it publicly.

I am sorry.  I was wrong. I was the jerk, and hypocrite. I have contacted Leslie and tried to unring my bell. Telling her that I am your advocate, and you are not my enemy. I have forwarded her our correspondence so she could also see a glimpse of the repentant you, and the true foolish me. I have responded to comments telling them, I was wrong.

I realized that  it’s easy for us to write about someone not realize that we are talking about an actual person, whether a fattie , or a journalist who wrote a brutally honest blog.

Thank you for extending me the grace that I did not extend to you.

I need to take my own advice. Think twice, write once.

Moving forward,

Julie

A confident, beautiful, strong, not always so friendly  ”fattie” who is eating some humble pie.

After exchanging several personal emails with Maura Kelly, the author of the article, I realized how I was a fool, a hypocrite and how wrong I was to write the letter that is below. I am now eating some humble pie. Read the revised open letter here.

Dear Maura Kelly,

This is an open letter I am writing to you in response to your article in Marie Claire, titled,

Should “Fatties” Get a Room? (Even on TV?)

I can’t believe someone who I never knew existed before today, could provoke such a reaction. I want to scream. I want to cry. I feel bad for you and I would want to give you a hug, if I didn’t want to strangle you.

But seriously, what were you thinking? Your own “point, counter-point” style of writing indicates that you knew that what you were writing was not appropriate. Especially for a woman’s magazine.

And not only was it not appropriate, it was just cruel, condescending,  insensitive, and flat-out incorrect. And I would be more “brutally honest”, if I wasn’t so taken back, and offended by your ignorant “brutal honesty”. Maura, that was the only accurate statement in your article,  it was brutal.

I won’t go into all of my emotional reactions to your statements. I won’t engage you in the playground bullying.

But I will say this.

After a rant of defending the often unattainable, and often unhealthy “naturally slim” model you boldly state; “No one who is as fat as Mike and Molly can be healthy.” I have never seen the show. So,I don’t know how “fat” these actors and actresses are. But I know that even since losing weight I am fat. And Maura, I want to inform you, that I am 100% healthy. Just this past summer, I had a full exam. Full Blood work, thyroid tests, liver tests, who knows what they tested my urine for, cholesterol, EKG, an ultrasound of my heart, lungs, abdomen. Breathing tests.  I have lower cholesterol, lower blood pressure, and am healthier than one of my best friends, who weighs more than 100 pounds less than me.

If you want to encourage someone to lose weight, or be healthier, spouting off nutrition information would go alot further out of love and compassion, not after offending, degrading, and verbally bitch-slapping people.

Think twice, write once, and you will find yourself more humble, and more helpful. Don’t worry the humble pie you are now being forced to eat, doesn’t have any calories.

Moving forward,

Julie

A confident, beautiful, strong, friendly,  ”fattie”,  who feels pretty.

update: This wasn’t just an open rant. I did send this letter to Maura Kelly, who has printed an apology, and a retraction on her article. She actually even replied to my email.

You’re right Julie–encouraging someone to lose weight is one thing, and insulting people is another. I feel really sad that I’ve hurt so many people, including you. I really do apologize.

redstamp.com

There are 109 days left of 2010 !!

And what a year it has been, and will be. Yes, that’s right. Will be!

There is still about 29% left of the year. If you are thinking “That’s not much time, so much for 2010.” Stop it.

This is not the time to slow down, give up, or get lazy. This year is not over.

What if I told you I was going to give you $290,000?

Would you say, “That’s only 29% of a million, nah, that’s a waste”.

No way !!

In January, what did 2010 have in store for you? What did you resolve to do? Have you done it? Why or Why not?

I know “life happens”. I get that. Believe me, 2010 has been a whirlwind for me.

But without the excuses take some time to do an honest personal assessment of the past 256 days, and see how you can live the next 109 more on purpose. Give yourself grace if needed. Brush off the dust. Get up. And make the next 109, the best 109.

Join me. I’m moving forward. With more passion and more on purpose than ever.

Photo: Unhindered by Talent Nic McPhee (flickr)

Unscripted?

If only that were true. The truth is that I script. Constantly. Well, except for the moments that it is obvious that I do not think at all before I speak. Those moments turn out cute, witty, or embarrassing.  We all laugh. Those seem to be the best moments. When I am in the moment.

Back to scripting. It’s annoying and it’s exhausting. My mind is often three steps ahead of the moment. I think about what I will say, what you must be thinking and how you will respond, and then what I will respond to what you said, or haven’t even said yet. Or I will complete the thought of what I think you maybe thinking, and interrupt you – mid sentence. Or I will interrupt myself, and start a whole new tangent or a whole new conversation.

Here’s where it gets tricky. My mind is almost always wrong. I am thinking of all the terrible things you could be thinking of me, things that have never crossed your mind. So one smidgen into our conversation my guard goes up. I think that you will think that I am this, that, or the other, so I shut down, or get super defensive. Or I add an unnecessary disclaimer to what I finally do muster up the koyach to say.

It’s even worse if all of this is happening in writing, like an important letter, or blog, or something where I can change the words to sound all smart or move paragraphs around. This one, for example, has already been moved. Twice. I will take days to write an important email, and there are many unposted blogs. Because what if I really said what I was really thinking?  I’ve done it before. I have even said what others were thinking, and what they wouldn’t say, and have put myself on the chopping block. Alone.

So I script. And sometimes I don’t. And it can end up even worse. I can be snide and rude and sarcastic and condescending. And I can blow up. And it’s not nice. Kinda ugly actually.

Even now in my head I am thinking that you are thinking that I must be having some sort of emotional breakdown and that I  need you to encourage me and tell me all about how I bring thoughts of unicorns and skittles to wherever I go… but you weren’t even thinking about skittles. Were you? Maybe unicorns, but not the skittles.

See, I told you it was exhausting.

P.S. (Irony, P.S. stands for post script): Most of this scripting happens during confrontation, or anticipated confrontation, or flirting or anticipated flirting, especially if you have a Spanish accent. So, when you talk to me tomorrow, I may not be scripting, but seeing as how I already started scripting my response to your reaction to this blog…Unscripted? Not so much.

I haven’t told you up until now because it doesn’t fit into what a “good little Christian” (read: pharisee) like me should read, not to mention like. I do like it. Alot.I have almost all the of books. And I check it first thing Sunday mornings. Yes, first thing, Sunday mornings.

My Secret: I LOVE PostSecret.

“PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people
mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard.”

Some are vile. Some are funny. Some are sad. Some are so inappropriate. And I relate to at least one, every week.

Here are just a few of my (“cleaner”) favorites in a slideshow: