Let's Talk About Sex...

Now, reading the title of this post, I know what you may be thinking.

"No, Jess, let's not."

Or maybe, "She has a professional reputation to uphold. Why is she posting this on the internet?"

But hang with me here. I want to talk to you about sex, yes... But I want to talk to you about all of the sex I'm not having. 

It's no secret that as a conservative Christian by many accounts, I don't believe in premarital sex. But I'm not here to try to convince you of what the Bible says or doesn't say about that. You can read it yourself and come to a conclusion. 

It's also no secret, and I've told everyone reading this blog before, that I have been sexually active in the past during a time when I was struggling with who I was and where my faith fit into my life. 

I'm not the only one. People make mistakes. I would never call loving another person a mistake. Ever. I've loved the men with whom I've had intimate relationships. Very much. It's really not about that. 

The demise of my last relationship has gotten me to thinking about physical relationships between unmarried people, in general. Before I met the man in question, we had numerous (and lengthy) conversations about boundaries and where we wanted (or didn't want) our physical relationship to go. We were on the same page. Neither of us wanted to have a sexual relationship before we were married. So, we focused our relationship on other things: talks about God, our pasts, our goals, the future of our lives, the world, music, TV, food... Whatever. 

Or did we?

Funny thing is, once you bring even the thought of sex into the picture, it keeps coming back. It's like an unexpected guest at your dinner party.  You didn't plan for her to show up, but she did... And she brought cookies. Everyone likes cookies, so you set an extra place at the table, and thank her for the dessert. Cookies are fun. The party is better with cookies. 

Sex is fun too, but is the party really better with sex? Well, if you're contemplating a long term relationship with a person... I would argue that it's not. 

Let's take my last relationship as an example. We had talked all of this boundary business before meeting (we met online and talked for months first). but when we met... Well, practice is always more difficult than theory. 

We stayed true to our values. We respected the boundaries we had set, but sex still showed up for the party. 

We kissed. Made out. Whatever the kids are calling it these days. A lot. And I have to say, the man could kiss. He should get a major award or something... really. Maybe not a leg lamp... But something. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, don't mind me... But make sure you watch TBS next Christmas Eve). 

I'm sure his new lady friend agrees (or she will if she doesn't yet). 

Once you open the door, even just a crack, desire can take over. This isn't a good or a bad thing; it's just a fact. God made humans to mate, and so it's perfectly natural for us to want to have that kind of relationship with each other. 

But once desire becomes a major player in your interaction together, your interactions change. Our time together, even virtually and on the phone, began to be less about praying, being goofy, or having the types of conversations that will matter to us when we're 80, and more about desire.

I've noticed this pattern in all of my relationships though. Once an element of the physical relationship is present; it can sometimes eclipse the other elements that are going to be just as important to a long term relationship: friendship, discussion of values, goals, confidences, finances, religion. Or even just going out and doing things together... 

I once had an ex argue with me that there was no way possible of knowing that he would want to have a physical relationship with me unless we had one. 

Bogus. If you are not attracted to me, why are we dating again?

From the minute I saw my last "interest," I knew I would want to have a physical relationship with him. I'm confident based on his actions and words that he felt the same way. We hugged and kissed a few times, and that was it. 

No further research was needed. We wanted to have a physical relationship. Sex. All the sex. 

You can know you are attracted to someone without even kissing the person. In fact, if you can persist without having a physical relationship at all, you can build an attraction based on lasting characteristics. Looks, yes. But personality, values, morals, interests, experiences, etc. 

Whatever happened to courting? Is that even a thing anymore? Maybe I'm just getting old, or I was born in the wrong decade... But I'd much rather be in a relationship with a man who is ok hanging out with me (and maybe my friends) for months, and doing things completely unrelated to a physical relationship, just to get to know me. 

Why? 

Because it shows I'm worth it. That I matter more to him than just a potential partner for procreation. I matter as a person. 

And it is that kind of personal connection that can be built over time. That, not a physical relationship, is what will solidify our connection, so that we can know that it has staying power. 

Our physical relationship will (eventually) be the icing on an already tasty cake. 

"Kiss my Grits": a Love Story

This weekend marked a Valentine's Day much like many others in my life. I spent it single and alone. This weekend, though, unlike Valentines past, which I had spent lamenting my single status, was different. 

It's no secret that my heart is broken right now. I'm real, and always myself... And aside from not letting others see me when I sneak off to have a quiet moment alone... I can sometimes wear my feelings on my sleeve, whether I want to or not. 

I've always been told that this is a downfall of mine, but I beg to differ. If there is one thing that my past relationship taught me, and taught me well, it's that it takes a lot more courage to be yourself and to let your guard down in the face of an uncertain future than it does to put your walls up and not allow yourself to feel. 

I let myself love, knowing that I could get hurt. I was hurt, but the experience of loving another person is always worth the pain. 

I know that sounds cliche, but I mean that. I really do. This individual made me feel loved when we were together. We shared genuine smiles. He got to know many of my secrets and insecurities, and I know that for the most part, he tried to treat them with care. Circumstances change though, and with change in circumstance, comes choice.  He made a choice to follow his heart... and his heart was somewhere else. 

Do I think I could have been the right woman for him? Yes. But it doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what he thinks... and he chose to invest his heart in someone he felt was more worthy. 

Do I think she was more worthy? Of course not. But I know nothing about her other than that we share a home state, a passion for living with Christ, and a love for animals, our families, nature, and a few types of music. 

She sounds like an amazing woman. Maybe even someone I would want to get to know. I don't blame her for my sadness. 

I blame myself. This broken heart needed to happen. I knew that I loved this person, and that he loved me, but I never felt as though I was a priority for him. I always felt like an afterthought... 

Let me tell you; I have spent years being a man's afterthought. It may be sad sometimes to be alone, but it is not sadder than hearing someone tell you he loves you and watching him court another person as though she is the real object of his affection. It is not sadder than having him call you to wake you up, and seeing him call another woman's picture beautiful online less than 10 minutes after hanging up the phone. It is not sadder than knowing that he wants her to meet his family, but that for some reason you do not live up to the "meet the parents" standard. And it is not sadder than hearing him tell you that he would rather pray with her every night and morning than with you. 

At some point, you have to realize that it's time to cut the cord. I had to stand up for what I know I deserve. I deserved all of the parts of him that he was giving to her... And more. But he made a choice. He chose to love her. 

I made a choice too. I chose to love myself. For the first time in many years, I stood up for the love I deserve. And I actually believe that it is possible for me to find such a love. 

When I was younger, I didn't think I was worth it, so I stayed in relationships for years with guys who abused me, cheated, and treated me as less than a person. I thought that having a disability meant that I would have to settle for someone who could look past my physicality. And that sometimes , settling meant other  drawbacks too. Some love is better than none. I thought. 

But I don't really want someone to look past my disability   I don't want just "some love." I want someone to love me. All of me. Sure, I may never be able to carry my own tray at McDonalds, but if I can represent him in court, make his favorite slow cooker chili, tell him I love him in multiple languages, and out lift most women on a weight bench... what is there to look past?

Ok, so I have armbraces... But that's really no different than a man who is short or has a "beer gut" or a receding hairline. It's just a physical characteristic. I may need help with some things, but so will he. 

My differences don't make me worth less. They add to my value. Without my armbraces, I would not be as patient as I have become. I would not understand the beauty of what it means just be able to take a simple walk outside. I would not know the simple thrill of skiing down a hill for the first time, after thinking for years that it was impossible. I would take less pleasure in many simple things. 

I would not understand what it means to persevere, to be the underdog. I would understand the concept of discrimination. I would not be a civil rights lawyer. 

Moreover, I would not relate to people who are angry at God in times of sorrow and bad circumstance. I would not have such a space in my heart for the downtrodden and misguided people in the world. 

I know that my disability has made me worth more, because it has made me more. More than a WASP from the South. More than a thirty something stuck between Gen X and the Millenials. More than a Christian who tries her hardest to be in church every time the doors are open. 

It has given me more depth, perspective and passion than any man meeting me on the street will see in his snap judgement, based on the appearance of my rolling feet, hunched frame, or concentrated stare. 

Though he might have me look another way, I wouldn't. 

Because I am thoughtful, smart, funny , sexy, confident, and worth every second of his time. There is a man out there somewhere who will see me, and recognize this truth. He won't have to look past a thing, because he will know that looking past any one part of me takes away from the beauty of the whole.

When we love someone-- and really love them-- we love it all. Every last imperfect bit. Because the imperfect bits make up a complete, God-breathed picture of humanly-flawed perfection. 

SNOW-NLEY

Snow-nley: (adv) the emotional state one often experiences while being snowed in and alone. 

The past 2 days have been pretty snow-nley for me. I do enjoy my own company; if I didn't, I'd have other things to be concerned about. At the same time, there are only so many movies to watch, snacks to eat, and books to read. 

This weekend is a long weekend and it also happens to be the weekend of Valentines Day, so I have to admit that I was already sort of dreading it before the snow came. 

After being snowed in and alone for more than 48 hours, I am genuinely excited about the human interaction that is going to happen tomorrow when I go to the gym and take myself out to celebrate the day.  

I have had a lot of time to think about the decision I made last Friday to cut off all contact with someone I'll freely admit even now I love. There have been times in the past couple of days when I have wanted to call him, to hear his voice, to know that he's ok. 

But I have maintained self-control. His number is still blocked in my phone and I haven't tried to look him up online. It's important to me that I don't treat the relationship I had with him in the same manner he treated the one he had with me-- like something to do. 

When we met, he was in a different place in his life, one where he needed encouragement and love to help push him toward the goals that he had for himself.  You might even say that he was in a period of transition. He was learning to become content with himself and his life as a single civilian who was starting over in a lot of respects. He was learning to listen to God's call for him and becoming comfortable with following his heart. 

From what I saw, he was experiencing a period of loneliness and our companionship helped bring him through that. 

I was always there. In the morning when he woke. All day. At night when he went to sleep. In the middle of the night/early morning when he couldn't sleep. I was always there. 

Our constant contact, the discussions of our pasts, the similarities in our lives brought us together. They kept us coming back to each other even after he would do things to hurt me, try to push me away, or find relationships with other women. 

When he moved into New York City last month, he tapped into a happiness I had never seen in him. I was so proud of the changes I saw--he was back near his family roots; professional opportunities were opening up; and he had found a church community in which. he wanted to immerse himself. He was so happy. 

I was so happy for him. 

But I also felt him shutting me out. I had to contact him to get him to stay in touch with me, and he only seemed to want to talk late at night when he was alone and needed someone. 

I knew he had decided to start sharing his confidences, his feelings, and his spiritual journey with another woman-- someone who had been in the picture before. I guess she never left. 

I felt, and I still do, like she was getting the best of him and I was getting what was left over when he felt like it. 

In a lot of ways, he was treating her like the girl he wanted to bring home to mom (even introducing her to his sister on Facebook) and me like the "other woman" who he knew he never had any intent to keep in his life, but who was always there when he needed not to be alone. 

I don't want to be any man's cure for loneliness or anecdote for boredom. That's not love, that's convenience. 

And so when I felt myself missing him yesterday , I was careful not to try to contact him. Because I was lonely. And I never want my relationship with any person to be a cure for loneliness. 

The cure for feeling alone has to come from within me. Sure, the people I love can be my sounding boards, give me advice , be there for me when I feel as though I can't even be there for myself. But they can't fill me up. Nor should I expect them to do so. 

That feeling of fullness has to come from my relationship with God. Off and on the past two days, the lyrics to the song "You Are My All In All" have popped into my head. 

"When I am down, You pick me up. When I am dry, You fill my cup. You are my All in All."

If I lean on God to fill my cup, it will never be empty.  I will never be disappointed. He will never let me down. He will be there no matter the circumstances in my life, and He will put me first, even when I don't put Him first. 

Leaning on any person, I do not have the same assurance. But God--He is always there. In the morning when I wake up. All day. At night/in the middle of the night when I can't sleep. He is always there. 

Our relationship is never a matter of convenience with God. God loves us because He wants us to follow Him. He doesn't need us. He's God. But He wants us, because He loves us. 

Knowing this, I try to treat my relationships with those I love in the same manner--being there for them unconditionally, even when it doesn't benefit me, and loving them with the love of God. 

Another person is never a convenience for me; never a cure for my loneliness; never a piece to fill a void. 

I have learned from my recent experiences the difference between loving someone because you feel you need them; and loving someone because you genuinely want them there.

Do I love this man genuinely because I want him in my life?

Yes. 

But if my love for him is rooted in want, and his love for me is rooted in need, we're growing on opposite sides of the same tree, and our branches are never going to meet. 

Babies....

I've always pictured myself as someone's  Mama.

You wouldn't think that sentence would be such a hard one to write, but it is.

Even just typing those words fills my fingertips with lead.

Why?

Because when I type that sentence, when I say it out loud, even when I think it, I know you're going to have an opinion about it. 

About whether I can.

About whether I should.

About whether it would be too hard.


Well, can I?

Yes, as far as I know.  I haven't been going around trying to get pregnant lately, so I could be wrong about that.... but physically, I am equipped to create a child.  Carrying one may be difficult, and I may have to make changes to the way I move in order to do that safely.... but I can tell you right now, even before having met my child that he or she is worth any temporary discomfort I might endure during pregnancy.  Even if I had to eat a special diet, wear adult diapers, and be on 9 months of bed rest... I wouldn't care if it meant that I could have a little boy with my Daddy's kind eyes, or a girl with my Mama's smile. Or a niece or nephew for Uncle Matthew. I would spare no expense; I wouldn't care about my body changing forever... about having less bladder control or more scars. I mean, really? What are a few more...

As long as I find the right man to help me make and raise my own children...and as long as God allows us to bear children... there is never any doubt in my head as to whether I will have them. 

And if I can't have children, I would still want to adopt. Even if it meant moving home to be near family for support. Even if it meant changing jobs, changing locations, and learning how to raise a child on my own with the proper supports. 

I know adoption is hard for everyone. I realize that I might have a harder road as an individual with a disability. But I also know that nothing beats a failure but a try... And I won't know unless I try. 

Well, should I try?

Now, there's an issue of contested debate. Everyday people I don't even know make assumptions about what I can and can't do. Or what I should and shouldn't do. 

Everyone has an opinion. You never know the assumptions that others make about your abilities until they reveal themselves. When I was in high school, for example, I discovered that at least a few of my classmates assumed that I couldn't use the restroom alone, simply because I always had at least one classmate accompany me when I went on a bathroom break. 

What teenage girl wants to go into a public restroom alone?? And how does one gather from my restroom trips with my best friend that I can't toilet independently?

One gathers that information by making assumptions. 

Well, although teenagers might be more apt to assume than adults, the assumptions don't just evaporate with age. 

At least twice a week someone picking me up from work assumes that I was there to collect food stamps, or that I work in the food court downstairs. 

Now don't misunderstand. There would be nothing wrong if either of those scenarios were true. But why do they assume that instead of working for DC government in a full time professional job, the blonde girl with armbraces MUST be at the government building instead to pick up her food stamps?

Because that is what many people do. They look at me and assume. And I know that at least some of those same people assuming that I'm on food stamps definitely don't think I should have a baby. 

They would call me selfish. They would call my child doomed. If you don't think this is true, just do a quick google search. Even today, in 2014, people with disabilities have children ripped away from them by child protective services before they even leave the hospital. Because someone somewhere assumes. 

Let me tell you something about most parents with disabilities I know. They didn't just wake up one day and say, "Oh, I think I'll have a baby."  No. That's not how it works for us. Why?

Because we know it's hard. We know people assume. We know that life as a parent for us isn't discussed in detail in "What to Expect When You're Expecting."

No decision I've ever made (except for the one to buy a $50 DVD player with my ex at midnight in a best buy in DC) has been a complete impulse. 

I think about everything I do. My parents might argue that assertion a little; but they know the weeks of thought I put into new endeavors, especially anything physical. And I have already started researching for my future child. 

I haven't met her daddy yet, but that doesn't matter. I can tell you about some of the best books for parents with disabilities; some of the best equipment and baby gear reviewed by my peers; adaptive parenting classes in my area and doctors somewhat versed in disability; the benefits of water birth, hospital vaginal birth, and c section for a woman with spastic cp. 

Not only that, but I live in an area where I'm proud to say I know many mothers with disabilities. People I can go to for advice, for support, and for guidance. Moms who have been through the sleepless nights both pre and post pregnancy, who've dealt with the effects of baby on an already different body, and who face more assumptions and stereotypes everyday than I'm familiar with. 

I know motherhood will be hard. There will be things I don't like, that I know I'll want to give back already: the endless laundry, the two am feedings, learning how to chase a toddler who will probably outrun me. The looks I know I'll get from people who just don't understand. 

But I'll tell you right now; the minute I hold my child for the first time. The minute I see her face. When I hear her cry. When I hear her call me 'Mama...' Those moments are worth more than any amount of sleep or any pile of laundry. 

My child is already so loved, so wanted, and so anticipated that I will stop at nothing to make sure her childhood is as happy, fulfilled and loving as any on Earth. 

Barbecue

If someone were to ask me how I felt today, my answer would be barbecue.

Cooked.
Well done.
Greasy.
Sticky.

I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't mention my anger over my relationship/lack there of in this blog, and I'm keeping that promise.  For 2 reasons, mostly because I try to be a woman of my word, but also because there is no point.

What's done is done, and it can't be changed.

I knew that this day was coming; I knew that it was 90% sure that I was pushing my heart right into oncoming traffic, but I wanted to believe that the man driving the car straight for it would care enough to swerve before we actually made contact.

But he didn't.  And here I am.

Roadkill.

Like I said...

Barbecue.

And like so many other times before.... I just want to give up.

Why am I never good enough??

Always the best friend, never the girlfriend.

Why can't I just, for once, be confident in believing a man when he says he loves me... instead of waiting for the shoe to drop?  The ax to fall?  The truth to be revealed...?

I'll tell you why.

Barbecue.

Because my goose has been cooked before.  Because I like to think I can believe a person when he asks for my forgiveness... when he tells me he's sorry... when after 9 months, the words "I will always love you," leave his mouth.

When he says, "When I say I love you, I know what that means.  I don't take that lightly.  I know it's a choice.  I don't want to plan our future out today, but I want to spend more time with you.  I can see a possibility of a future... but I want to do this right.  I wouldn't ask you to stay if I didn't."

Because who throws that around?  Really??

Well, I guess everyone loves barbecue.

A life without the possibility of barbecue would be pretty sad.

But me, in this situation, I had two choices.  I could either trust and choose to believe someone I love.  Or choose not to believe, give up on him and walk away.

I will always choose trust.  It will mean that I'll be hurt more; it will mean that I might be used.  It will mean that people might call me naive or stupid or immature.

But I believe in  spending my life clinging to the good I see in those around me.  And though that outlook sometimes leads to situations that cause me pain, I'm never going to stop searching for good in everyone I meet.

I love finding the shine in another person's soul; I believe in giving chances when others may not.  I know that in the end, God created all of us; therefore, within all of our beings exists a little of His ultimate Goodness.  I try to tap into that Good.

My search for Good may make me vulnerable, but I know that if the right person for me ever finds me in this Earthly life, he will be the first man to appreciate that part of me for what it is, rather than exploiting it, or using it for his own gain.

But for now, my plan is to try to peel myself from the hot, sticky pavement.... and find a use for some of the bottles of Guy Fieri's Kansas Sweet Heat sauce in my refrigerator.

Mmmm.... Good Barbecue.

Silver Linings Playbook

For this awesome necklace, visit www.3elove.com.  Embrace. Educate. Empower. 

I was talking with someone I love yesterday about what it takes to stay positive in not-so-positive times. For me it's a one word answer: God. That's not to say that there haven't been peaks and valleys in my faith. Right now, I'm actually in kind of a valley. It doesn't have to do with any one thing, situation, or person. 

Every last bit of it has to do with me. But I know that there is a purpose for all seasons in our lives. Solomon says so in Ecclesiastes. There is a time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to mourn and a time to dance. (Ecc 3:4). 

I think everyone, even those without strong faith in a Creator, would agree that life is a dynamic, emotional adventure. No two moments in time are the same. It can change in an instant-- for good or bad. It's how we choose to deal with each moment in time that makes us who we are. 

How do I deal with the bad times? I pray. I cry out to God-- literally. I write. I sing praises to Him in my head. I tend to keep to myself and only confide in a few close friends and family members. 

But the point is. When I feel bitterness, negativity, shame, hate, or even the worst of feelings--indifference-- creeping into my heart, I do whatever I can to expell it , to sift it out, to separate myself from it. 

Separating from negative influences and thoughts in your life is often a process. Many people, including me, get so frustrated when they make a decision to rid their life of negative influences and thoughts, and the change doesn't happen immediately. 

A good friend of mine had been going through a valley of uncertainty in his life over the past few months. He's worked so hard to pull himself out, and I've never seen him happier. I bet if I were to ask him now what was the point of his struggle, he'd say that at least in part, it was so that he could better appreciate the happiness and stability that he is experiencing now. 

You know how people say that you have to weather the storm to appreciate the sunshine? Well, that's a cliche, but it's the truth. 

Good comes out of every situation, no matter how bad. That doesn't mean that every bad situation or thing that happens to us is the "will of God."  It always annoys me a little when I'm going through a bad time and when I go to someone for advice or in confidence, and the person says, "it's just what God wants." Or "it was/wasn't meant to be."

Not everything that happens in our lives is at the complete direction of God. Sure, He starts the ball rolling for each of us every day of our lives, but the choices we make, the choices other people make, and even complete chance sometimes affect where it goes. 

God doesn't will people to have cancer. That's chance. 

He doesn't will a drunk driver to get behind the wheel after a a case of Coors Light and hit another person. That's a choice. It's free will. 

Yes, God gives us free will and so His Hand is always there. But the choices we make are ours. He gave us the freedom to choose. Sometimes the choices we make can lead us to the peak of a mountain, at other times, the depth of a valley. 

And when we are in the valley, we may think there is no way out.. We may not be able to see the mountain peak ahead of us, piercing through the clouds and fog.. We may be like the Israealites  wandering through the wilderness for 40 years, thinking "Ok, God.... What is the point of this?? Are You even listening to me?? "

He is. He's there. But we'll only be able to feel His Hand on us if we believe that it's there. That's a choice we make too. We can choose to see Him walking next to us in the valley, or we push Him away and try to find the way out on our own. 

And alone... We may make it out... but without God, we'll always be worse for the wear.

"When all around my soul gives way, You alone are my Hope and Stay."

Mirrors

My new personal trainer makes me lift in front of the mirror, which is something I hate. I always forget what I look like until I have to look at myself.  I understand why she does this; I need to use correct form or the exercises won't have the desired results, and/or I might get hurt. 

But spending 50 minutes staring at myself in a mirror is the absolute least enjoyable activity on Earth for me (maybe aside from tying my own shoes or picking up a pack of dropped thumb tacks). 

What?? Jess is the queen of the selfie, you say. Forget what she looks like? How is that even possible? 

Well, I assure you, it is. In my older posts on beauty in this blog, I know I've mentioned that in my head, I don't have armbraces. In my head, I see me for who I am, not my shell. My body is really just a physical vessel carrying the really precious cargo-- my heart and soul. 

I could look like Quasimodo, and it wouldn't matter.  In fact, I kinda do. 

And last night as I was sitting on the bench trying to make sure my arms were fully extended during my second set of lateral raises, I caught it. There in my eyes, hidden under the runny makeup and grimacing dimples after each lift. 

It looked back at me, dark, cold, and deep. I recognized it, but met it with surprise. I don't think I knew it was there, inside me, so close to the surface. 

Shame. 

I heard a voice in my head say , "Wow. You look brain-damaged."

Ouch. 

I quickly thought to myself , "Well... That's not exactly untrue. And it's ok."

I tried to push the negativity out of my head, but the more I fought it, I saw it peeking out from behind my eyes again. 

"No wonder you have such fair weather friends." I heard it say. 

"No wonder guys lie about who you are to their families when they date you. No wonder they move on to other people every time. "

"No wonder you're lucky to get someone to be seen with you outside your apartment."

"No wonder you have to explain your intelligence what seems like 55 times each week."

By this time, it was screaming at me. 

The tears started to stream down my face, but I knew no one could tell it from my sweat. 

"Stop!" My heart screamed back as loud as it could. "I can't take your crap anymore. You! You. Shame , you are the reason for all those things."

I set down my weights on the adjacent bench and went into the bathroom. Another mirror. 

"It's time we dealt with this." I heard a voice say. "Stop pretending like it's not there. It is there and you, Jessica, are the only person who can tell it to leave. You are responsible for taking out your own garbage."

 

I sat down on a locker room bench and pulled up the Bible app on my phone. I went straight to Proverbs 31. 

[d] An excellent wife who can find?
    She is far more precious than jewels.
11 The heart of her husband trusts in her,
    and he will have no lack of gain.
12 She does him good, and not harm,
    all the days of her life.
13 She seeks wool and flax,
    and works with willing hands.
14 She is like the ships of the merchant;
    she brings her food from afar.
15 She rises while it is yet night
    and provides food for her household
    and portions for her maidens.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
    with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.
17 She dresses herself[e] with strength
    and makes her arms strong.
18 She perceives that her merchandise is profitable.
    Her lamp does not go out at night.
19 She puts her hands to the distaff,
    and her hands hold the spindle.
20 She opens her hand to the poor
    and reaches out her hands to the needy.
21 She is not afraid of snow for her household,
    for all her household are clothed inscarlet.[f]
22 She makes bed coverings for herself;
    her clothing is fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is known in the gates
    when he sits among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them;
    she delivers sashes to the merchant.
25 Strength and dignity are her clothing,
    and she laughs at the time to come.
26 She opens her mouth with wisdom,
    and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
27 She looks well to the ways of her household
    and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children rise up and call her blessed;
    her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women have done excellently,
    but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
    but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
31 Give her of the fruit of her hands,
    and let her works praise her in the gates.

I read this passage over and over , as I have done so many times. Isn't it interesting... none of these verses mention what the virtuous woman looks like?

Strength and dignity are her clothing. She laughs at the days to come. She dresses herself with strength and makes her arms strong. 

Her lamp does not go out at night. 

She knows that her merchandise is good. 

And the virtuous woman...this faceless, physically indescribable woman... She is more precious than jewels. 

God cares more about the condition of the heart and soul inside our vessels than what we look like. Are we made in His image? Yes. But God is more than just Jesus in human form. He is Deity. He is Spirit. God is love. 

I'm not suggesting that we were all made to be gods. There is, in fact,only one of those. 

But we can be living examples of love. When you really consider the virtuous woman, that is the example she portrays. 

She does good and not evil. She puts others first: her husband, her family, even her maidservants. She puts stock in intangible goods: wisdom, strength, and dignity. She has a sense of humor about life. She brings good to all she touches. She loves God and her family, and she's intelligent enough to recognize her own worth, too. 

This woman, worth more than jewels, she could be me. And if I remind myself that I am always striving to be her, there is no room for shame. 

Because as a virtuous woman , I will be saving the best aspects of my beauty for God and for those around me... Including my future family. 

And as I put on my coat to leave the gym, I looked in the mirror as I was wiping the last bit of post-gym-smut off my face. 

"You're worth it. " I mouthed. I looked into my eyes. It was still there, but I  noticed it cowering a little under the weight of my mindset. 

Nothing that deep can be cleaned up in one day. 

But I'm glad we got real. Because I'm going to keep staring it down, and confronting it with the Truth until I don't see it there anymore. 

Square peg, round hole

I don't really remember a day of my life where I've felt like I "fit in," and I've always been ok with that.

Don't get me wrong.... I had a loving, happy childhood.  I had a good group of friends in high school, and while I wasn't considered one of the "cool kids," it never bothered me to be a "drama kid," "band geek," or "academic team nerd."  Not for one minute.

In college, I'd say I probably found my niche.  Everyone there was smart, so I never felt like a geek.  There were no cool kids.  Sure, there were Greeks and Independents, but I was involved with both, and I never felt like I was on the fringe.  Same thing with law school, we were all in that one big boat of crazy Hades for three years together-- all of us.  Yes, it wasn't the most friendly place for a person with a disability.  But neither was France.

My point is.  I'm not a victim.  I know how to make my happiness wherever I go.  It's all in the attitude.  I know this well.  There are times in my life that have been like one big giant pity party... I've spent time wondering, "Why me?"  I've stomped around.  I've soaked through pillow cases with tears.  I've  prayed to be someone else for just one day.  I've tried to radically transform my body in the hope that the opposite sex would find me more attractive.  I've tried drinking to belong, cigarettes (once... never give a piece of paper on fire to a spazz!) , sex, cursing, taking on different personalities to suit different people.

At my lowest point, I sat in a bathroom stall with a new razor shortly after having gone through rush in college.  I cried and prayed and contemplated doing what you think someone in a period of self-loathing might do if she had a razor.  In the end, the thing that stopped me was a sorority sister (she knows who she is) coming into the bathroom to tell me how happy she was that we were getting to know each other, and how she was so excited about this new chapter in our lives.

She sounded sincere.... and frankly, I was embarrassed. My first thought was, "What would they do if they found me in here?  What if I was still alive?  They don't have time for this.  Aren't I supposed to be happy today?  Suck it up, Jess.  If these people don't love you, it's possible they might learn to.  Give yourself a chance."

"Suck it up, Jess.  Give yourself a chance."  That's something I've repeated to myself a lot since that day in early 2000.

Homecoming court... representing the class of 1999 my Freshman year of HS

With my pledge class during our sophomore year... I was trying to look thug-like....

Lately, almost every day.  I find myself at another transition point in my life.  Most of my friends are married with kids, and I'm single.  The ones who aren't married seem to be on their way there... and honestly, that's not even what I want right now.  I would love to be in the right kind of relationship, and there is a person I absolutely adore... but he can't commit to a phone call at this point, much less a potential relationship.

I'm not looking for an end result here, I'm looking for potential... and right now, I feel stuck in a bit of a rut.  Everyone young and married keeps telling me how lucky I am, how jealous they are of me... and I understand that the freedom of not being beholden to another person must seem alluring.  But trust me, sitting alone at my table for the 19097th Sunday dinner.... not as alluring.

I'm just at this point in my life where I really don't seem to fit.  Everyone around me is at a different place and seems so grounded, while I feel I'm struggling to find which way is North.   (Though I am pretty directionally challenged at times, so...) I'm too young
yet to share many interests with the older single ladies I know, and the conversations with my young coupled or married friends sometimes turn a little awkward when they continually invite me to be the 3rd, or 5th, or 7th wheel.

Sometimes they mind.  Sometimes, I do.  But I know, just like any other time in my life when I've had similar feelings, that this is a phase... and it will pass.

"Suck it up, Jess.  Give yourself a chance."

I know God wouldn't let me be in any situation that He couldn't pull me through alone.  A lot of times, I wonder why I'm here.... in this uncomfortable, awkward phase of life.  Why my purpose seems unsure....   Why I feel so alone in rooms full of people...Why He knows the desires of my heart.... and yet for now, the answer seems to be, "Not yet.  Wait."

When I'm on my knees, pleading, this is often what I hear.

"Suck it up, Jess.  Give yourself a chance."

God has.  He's given me chance after chance after chance, even when I've failed Him repeatedly.  Sometimes unwittingly.  Sometimes on purpose.  He never gives up on me.... so how dare I give myself less of a chance than He?

I am His, after all.

And I know... that in God's eyes, I will always fit.  That He saw fit to let me live.  To give me a wonderful life full of love and opportunity and chances to serve others.  He created me in His image, and while I may not be certain of the entirety of His plan for me, I know that His Plan exists... and I know that what He has in store for me is better than anything I ever could have imagined.

So, for now, I will continue to suck it up and give myself a chance.