The Touch of the Baker's Hand

I was grocery shopping Saturday night when one of my favorite memories dashed into my mind.  A few weeks after my husband and I had started dating, I was about ready to call it quits.  He was kind, thoughtful, and a charismatic gentleman...but he was oh so serious.  Then one night, we went on a service project date to our church’s local cannery where they were canning flour.  When Greg dropped me off at my apartment, he handed me one of the large cans simply labeled, Flour.  “I thought you’d like a souvenir from our date,” he said while I smiled.  “You should probably open it tonight,” he said.  Something was up.  I opened it later to find a stargazer lily in a little vase of water. Ah--Flower.  His dry wit has filled my life with laughter every day since.

I started thinking about labels—all the food at the store is labeled so we know what we’re getting. I read those labels to my daughter the other night and remembered the time when she opened a bunch of boxes of instant pudding and pulled all of the little white packets out.  I had no idea which packet belonged in which box. Sometimes we label ourselves to help us belong. 

Some labels show, and some don’t.  I think we all worry about one big label being pressed onto us involuntarily, but the thing is, we are all far too complex for just one label.  We all have dozens and dozens of labels—and I bet if they were all visible, most of them would glitter.  (Does The Rainbow Fish book pop into anyone else’s mind when I say that?)  But even though I know I have glittery labels, there are days when I really would rather not have the bipolar label.  It’s an easy one for people to instantly misjudge, and usually it feels like the biggest one.  Sometimes I worry that it covers up the labels that I’d rather have seen—like good, kind, strong, friendly, writer, singer, dreamer…

And then I think about flour.  A simple word on a simple label for a simple substance.  Flour is flour.  Unless—surprise!—it’s flower.  But seriously now, I’m thinking of a plain old five pound bag of flour with a plain old five inch label.  Just because Flour is the one big label pressed onto the bag doesn’t mean that all it’s good for is to sit around and be flour. 

 

Flour is good for millions of things-- if it allows the baker to put it where it needs to go when it needs to go there.  Sometimes it doesn't get to be the first ingredient.  Sometimes it must be sifted.  Sometimes it needs to be mixed with cold, slimy, wet eggs, and it usually needs to endure a lot of heat--but the baker knows what needs to be done. The baker makes the flour into more than it could be alone.  And that reminds me of a beautiful message my parents taught me as a little girl.

 

The Touch of the Master's Hand

by Myra Brooks Welch

 

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer

Thought it was scarcely worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile:

"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who’ll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar”; then, “Two!” “Only two?
Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?
"Three dollars once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three—" But no,

From the room, far back, a gray haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said, "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.

"A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
And going and gone!" said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand"
What changed its' worth." Swift came the reply:
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

"And many a man with life out of tune
All battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin.

A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine,
A game—and he travels on.
He’s “going” once and “going” twice,
He is “going” and almost “gone.”

But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd

Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that’s wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.

One Little Like

We all see those pictures on Facebook—the crazy, funny, heart-wrenching, inspiring, or just plain cute ones with a “See how many likes this picture can get!” caption.  That’s a fun little game, but sometimes it just takes one. One little like.

A couple of weeks ago, I liked an article posted on Facebook about infertility because before Abbey, I had taken 36 negative pregnancy tests.  One of my friends saw that like and read the article.  She was touched and thanked me.  Another friend saw that and joined in on our conversation, and another friend saw that and joined in.  We had a nice little infertility party and I thought it was so neat what one little like could do.

Then last week someone liked my blog post on Facebook.  That one little like answered the prayer of a sweet lady halfway across the country who was looking for a friend and found me--a friend with bipolar who shares her values and is a young mother like herself.  She introduced me to another lady like us who blogs here, and now the three of us with answered prayers know that we are not alone in our circumstances.  That is what one little like can do.

I don’t know about you, but I’m about to do a whole lot more liking.

Why Weight is Not Worth the Worry

The messages are everywhere—plastered all over the world like a gaudy array of cheap rhinestones. 

Be thin. No excuses.

And if by some fortuitous circumstance, you happen to be happy with your body…

Don’t you dare gain weight.

We like to blame Hollywood and the fashion/beauty industry for these messages, but the truth is they come blaring at us from all types of media, public service announcements, the fitness industry, and even from the medical world.

It is not okay to be heavy.

And then we perpetuate these terrible ideas in our own mind.

I will be happier when I’m thinner.  I will be more attractive if I’m thinner. I’ll be a better friend, wife, mother, sister, and daughter if I’m thinner. I’ll like myself more when I’m thinner. I’m not taking care of myself if I’m not thin. When I’m thinner, I won’t feel guilty about being heavy.

Well don’t you dare listen.  Those are LIES!

At times I've believed and felt all of those terrible ideas--especially the guilt. That guilt intensified when I recently worked hard to lose 18 pounds and then gained 10 back.  I felt so guilty that any time I thought about my weight, I threw up—not because I wanted to—that’s just how awful my anxiety about it was. Last week my doctor prescribed a new medication to treat my bipolar and told me to be very careful because it's likely to cause weight gain.  And honestly, I cried.

In my desperation for peace, I’m gratefully learning the TRUE messages—the ones that should be scattered across the world like precious jewels—the messages that remind me that weight is not worth the worry. 

Your body enables your spirit to feel and experience the world in a way it couldn’t alone—and you don’t have to be thin to do that.

You are blessed to have a body.  I love this children’s song that talks about looking at the blue, blue sky…feeling the rain on your face, or the wind as it rushes by…touching a velvet rose…seeing butterfly wings…and hearing the magical sound of things. You do not have to be thin to do any of those things.  Being thin will not increase your ability to enjoy the beauty of the world. It will not make gorgeous sunsets more mesmerizing.  It will not make your favorite song sound even more amazing.  It will not make freshly cut grass smell even sweeter, nor will it make the taste of cool water even more satisfying--but being grateful for your body (thin or thick) WILL.  As author Melody Beattie wrote, “Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.”

Your body is meant for so many more things than to be attractive.  So many more things.

Let’s be honest here.  The main reason people want to be thin is to be attractive, sexy, hot, or whatever you want to call it.  We want to be admired by others.  Now think about the people you admire most.  Is it because they are thin?  No.  So why would we want that for ourselves? 

Most of those in my list of favorite people are not thin.  I admire them because they use their bodies to serve and cheer others up.  They use their bodies to make others feel loved and admired.  They use their bodies to develop and share their talents and to accomplish their personal goals.  Those are the people I admire. But in making people happy, they don’t neglect themselves.  They wear nice clothes that fit, they have great hair, nails, and makeup.  They simply follow the advice of one good mother to her daughter, “Do everything you can to make your appearance pleasing, but the minute you walk out the door, forget yourself and start concentrating on others.” (Read more beautiful words about the body here.)

Someday your body will be perfect.

When you listen to all of those stupid cheap lies about being thin, you start to think being heavy is a choice—the result of laziness.  The truth is that it usually is NOT a choice.  Some bodies are just not designed to be thin. Some bodies deal with medical conditions that make working out nearly impossible.  Some bodies deal with weight that naturally accompanies certain medical conditions, and some bodies need medications that can cause weight gain.

But one day those bodies will be perfect—“breathtakingly perfect in both body and mind”.  
(See more here and verse 44 here.)

In the meantime, in reminding myself that weight is not worth the worry, I’ve made the following my motto:

Eat well. Exercise. Accept.