Still...

not shaving my legs...

but who's ever gonna know?!



Body Typing

I've heard them/seen them countless times and you must have as well.
You know - instructions for dressing the "pear shape," for flattering the "boyish" figure, etc.

What I hope to do here is give some practical direction that you haven't seen or heard in any other place.  Or maybe I'm just breaking down the "rules" for a more practical application.

This is fairly simple, really.  While it's presently very hot outdoors and while I happen to have (what I, personally, consider) a pretty hot shoe collection, I must dress the body I have.  And so...







*When your knee is torn asunder - wear flats.


*When your back rebels and twangs a tune as as you cross the floor (which means NO bending over to shave your legs) -
wear long britches.






See, dressing the body you have is a cinch.  At least if your body type is "falling apart."

A Watery Grave

About a year ago, a bag was stolen from my truck and thrown into the culvert around the corner from my house. The bag contained the Bible that my mother had given to me more than a decade before - the one that lit my path as I found my way back home, the one I clung to as my father passed away, the one I read through as my children struggled in their daily walks. It was My Bible, you know what I’m sayin’?

After finding the bag floating in the swamp water, my gracious and gallant husband waded out and, for nearly an hour, raked the bottom, attempting to find my Bible. He was able to retrieve all the contents of the bag and even most of what had been inside the Bible’s cover, but he could not find the book itself.

photo credit: Nancy Garbarini 2009

For a while after the event, nearly every time I drove past the culvert, I stopped and stood and stared, as if my Bible would magically rise to the top - like some scene from Camelot. I know, I know. I don’t really want a mud-soaked remnant. It’s just one of my human shortcomings - that thinking that I just need to know. Know what I’m sayin’?

I did think I’d given up the ghost finally. However, on recent walks, I’ve found myself stopping and staring long into the swamp water again, trying to discern a bit of leopard print (my Bible cover was cool like that.) Yesterday, what rose up to me was these words, "Why are you searching an empty grave?"

"Remember what He said to you while He was still here."

Got it. Got it, for real. I do know what I need to know because that Word is alive.  There is no grave that can contain it.

Falling Short

This dress is too short. 
At least for me.
At least for me to feel comfortable.

But it was only as I headed out the door that I really caught a glimpse of myself, and suddenly, I knew some things.

I realized, for instance, just how inattentive I'd been to the details.

I recognized a shift, ever so subtle,
in my priorities.

I remembered that I'd see a specialist the next day to discuss my results.

And I understood - though I'd never imagined that I would - just what it's like for women in those very first days of waiting and uncertainty.

I've fallen short where you are concerned, having looked at myself but failing to see you in your troubles.  I pray with deep sincerity that you will have peace in your times of need and that you will never feel unseen.

For a bit more perspective, click: Just Plain Wrong.

Just Plain Wrong

When I made the appointment, I knew that my "issue" would turn out to be a fluke.

When the xray tech asked to expedite the next appointment and as I watched the ultrasound screen, I decided that this was not going to go so well, after all.

As I waited for the results call, I convinced myself that they hadn't actually seen anything.  Between that call and waiting to see the specialist, I prepared for the worst possible news.

Waiting - again - for final test results, I changed my mind entirely and decided that there's absolutely nothing going on here.

Nothing to see here, people.  Move along.

Today, as I'm writing this (Tuesday morning), as I'm in the countdown to going back to the specialist's office for those results, what I actually do know for certain is that I've been just plain wrong about this all along.  Not about the "yes" or "no", the "do" or "don't", but about attempting to determine what is coming for me.

See, I can plan for my future.  And I can speculate, sure.  But only God knows what my future holds.

For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.
Psalm 139:13-16

Thank You, Lord, for your peace and provision in all seasons.  Please grant the same to any who read these words.

This Time Tomorrow...

How can you tell about what you can't tell about?  Sometimes the ownership of your troubles belongs squarely with someone else and telling would be a trust violation.  Sometimes the answers belong, for the moment, to someone else and there's nothing but to wait and see.

But this time tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, I want to be found unchanged...

Having the same sense of His love for me.
The same assurance of His provision and grace.
The same certainty that He is with me through all of life's highs and lows.

And the never-ending peace that comes from knowing that, "we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellence of the power may be of God and not of us.  We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed."  2 Corinthians 4:7-9

Be Yo'Self

In 1985, Seventeen magazine ran a Noxema skincare ad which featured a girl with a shoestring tied in her hair.*  I've tried very hard to find a copy of that ad - just as I've tried through the years to gather all those "In List" items topping the charts back then - back when I was 15, a freshman in highschool.

I've always been a little bit different from my peers but I haven't really embraced that - appreciated that about myself - until these last few years.  In '85, doing not only my first year in highschool, but also my first school year in a new town, I wanted very much to fit in.  And I assumed my quickest and surest path to acceptance was by means of my attire.

I could not, for various reasons, obtain a Levi's jacket, parachute pants, or Converse high-top sneakers, but lo!  I could get myself a shoestring.

To say that my attempt at the latest fashion trend was not well-received would be, well...to call that a vast understatement would be a vast understatement.  My shoestring was not only the source of my great ridicule on the day that I wore it - it became a call for slander for pretty much the remainder of the school year.



It's happened to me recently, on one of those days that I was playing dress-up at the Bargain Box, that a couple of girls gave me sideways glances and giggled to themselves.  For just a second, I felt like I had a string tied into my hair.**  But then I remembered just exactly who I am - and that I like myself.

This is about all of us, but especially the little bit different ones, because, as it turns out, there are a lot of us.  Let's rally 'round, encourage one another.  Let's do our best to appreciate what makes each of us different.  Let's build one another up, rather than burn one another down. 

Because God loves you*** and so should you.






*I may not have the details precisely right but this is my story, after all.
**There's just as good a chance that I did have a string in my hair.
***This has nothing to do with what we wear.