Step two: giving up the last 10%

Yesterday, I wrote about the Freedom Groups I joined while I was in college.

Fast forward about 4 years.

While living in Haiti, I heard the story of a woman who practiced Voodoo. When she gave her life to Jesus, she took down her voodoo idols but instead of getting rid of them, she kept them under her bed. Out of sight, out of mind. But still there. When asked why she didn’t get rid of them, she replied with a question. “Why do you have a spare tire on your car?”

“Just in case one of my tires stops working.”

“Exactly.” She went on to explain that she kept her idols just in case this whole Jesus thing didn’t work out. Just in case she changed her mind. Just in case she decided to go back to voodoo.

 

That’s me, I thought when I heard the story. By that time, I had stopped restricting (mostly) and found a healthy weight. I had decided not to pour myself into weight loss (mostly) and had given my eating disorder to God. Mostly. But I was keeping a little bit of it for myself. Just in case this whole recovery thing didn’t work out. Just in case I changed my mind. Just in case I decided to lose 10 pounds. Just in case I overate on Thanksgiving. Just in case I decided to go back to anorexia.

I thought of it as my last 10%. I had given God 90% of my eating disorder, but I wanted to keep just that last 10% for myself.

It got to the point where I knew I needed to give over that last 10%. Too much of my brain was still thinking about calories and weight. Too much of my mental energy was spent focusing on my body. Too much of my mental health was being compromised.

But I had no idea where to start.

 

Dear God, I wrote in my journal on October 28. I don’t know how to beat this thing. Sometimes I don’t know if I want to.

 

Then, on November 2, just five days later, it happened. The one thing I needed. The piece of the puzzle that had been missing for years. The invitation to say goodbye to the last 10%.

I know what happened that night, but not exactly how it happened.

One minute, I was lying in bed telling God that I had nothing new to say to Him. I had said it all a thousand time. Suddenly, something new washed over me. For the first time since I was 14 years old, I believed that I deserved to enjoy food and I deserved to be happy. For the first time since I was 14, I said that I wanted to love my body no matter what. For the first time since I was 14, I realized that complete freedom was possible. It was like my eyes were suddenly opened to the fact that I deserved freedom.

That night, I took up an entire journal page to write one simple sentence:

 

I’M DONE WITH YOU, ANA.

 

Then I pulled out my pile of Bible verse cards and right there on top was Ephesians 5:8-9

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness, and truth)

 

At that moment, I heard His voice as if He were standing beside me.

“I’ve known you could handle this all along. I’ve been waiting for you to believe it, too. You CAN beat this, and you will.”

 

I wish I could tell you that this moment was the end of the story. It wasn’t. Instead, it was the beginning of the end. I knew it was gonna take a lot of work to step into that complete freedom. And just on time, God gave me the tool that made it happen.

What was that tool? Come back tomorrow to find out!

Step One: Freedom Groups

 Let the stories begin! I’m so excited to share with you these intimate pieces of my heart.

Let’s start with context.

I developed my eating disorder my freshmen year of high school at age 14. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I started my first restriction diet; it snowballed so fast I barely remember how I went from eating intuitively to neck-deep in anorexia.

Fast forward to my senior year. After three and a half years of restriction. Three and a half years of wanting to starve myself into nothingness. Three and a half years of weight loss and compulsive exercise and depression and anxiety and self-harm. Three and a half years later, on January 22, 2009, after reading an entry in an online forum, I finally admitted to myself that I had an eating disorder. My journal from that day ends with the words, “Wow. Apparently, I have an eating disorder.”

I suppose that was the first step toward recovery, although it would be months before I even had hope that recovery could be my reality. The day before graduation was the first day that I wanted…I mean really wanted…to put my eating disorder behind me.

 Whew. Context complete. Now to the really juicy stuff. How did I go from wanting to recover to actually doing it?

 

Step one: Freedom Groups

 During my sophomore year of college, my church started their own version of Celebrate Recovery called Freedom Groups. I still remember the day I showed up there. What I was wearing. How I was feeling. My perfect plan for joining the group and talking about my problems in the vaguest of terms so that nobody would actually know what I was struggling with. And I still remember the first break-out session where I heard another warrior share her story and how that somehow gave me the strength to share mine.

Oh, what a powerful moment. Oh, how God used that moment to break chains. Oh, the light that pierced the dark. Oh, how amazing it felt to confess my deepest, darkest secrets to near-strangers and find that they loved me more because of them.

I found so much healing in Freedom Groups, and not even because of the curriculum. Sure, the steps were powerful, but it was the sessions with the other women that changed my life. That was the year I learned that it was okay to say I’m not okay. To let down my guard enough to let others in.

I’m not entirely convinced that anything changed in my eating disorder through Freedom Groups. I was at a healthy weight by then and didn’t think I needed to recover because I believed the lies that 1. Being at a healthy weight meant I was recovered, and 2. There’s no such thing as FULLY recovered. It wasn’t going to get any better than this. But maybe my time in Freedom Groups wasn’t about recovering from my eating disorder. Maybe it was more about becoming the person who would be ready to recover when the time finally came.

NEDA week 2022

 Get excited!! Today begins my favorite week of the year, NEDA week. For those of you who don’t know, NEDA week is National Eating Disorder Awareness week. Seven years ago, I did something really hard and really crazy and really freeing; I publicly shared my story of anorexia and some of my journey to being fully recovered and completely free. For those of you who weren’t around back then, I would absolutely love for you to read those old posts. You can find them beginning here. At the bottom left of the page, there is a button that says “newer posts.” Click that for the next day’s post. I think there are 7 or 8 each year.

https://myheart4haiti.blogspot.com/2015/02/not-everyone-with-eating-disorder.html

The following year, I did another series, which begins here:

https://myheart4haiti.blogspot.com/2016/02/recovery-is-worth-it.html

In 2017, I switched things up and started making videos, all of which are linked in this post:

https://myheart4haiti.blogspot.com/2017/03/national-eating-disorder-awareness-week.html

 

This year, I’m picking up the pen again to write not about my struggle with anorexia, but about the recovery process. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

Everyone’s journey through recovery looks different. Some people do it with therapy and nutritionists. Some people do it in treatment facilities. Sometimes I wish that had been my path. Instead, I often journeyed in silence. I stumbled through the process, just God and me. When I finally let people in…even though it was just a few…is when I really turned a corner. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Those stories will have to wait. For now, I just want you to know that there is hope, there is healing, there is freedom. And there is no one-size fits all way to recover.

 

Get excited! This is gonna be an epic week!

Four Years

It has been four years since I moved to Haiti.  Today, I am spending my Haiti-versary preparing to move back to America and reflecting on all the lessons I will carry with me when I leave this amazing country.

Here are just a few of the things Haiti has taught me…

Haiti has taught me that children belong in families.

I have worked at two orphanages and spent time at countless others.  These experiences have shown me that although institutional orphan care can certainly be done well, the bottom line is that children belong in families.  My heart breaks for every child in an unsafe home, every child in every orphanage, every child who needs a family.

Haiti has taught me that our faith and trust in God is not dependent on the situational outcome.

Sometimes God calls us to go hard places and do hard things.  We follow Him in faith and trust Him to lead us well.  But God doesn’t always promise to give us the desired outcome.  We follow Him anyway, trusting that whatever He has for us must be better than what we had planned for ourselves.

Haiti has taught me that sometimes, God brings us to one place to show us He actually wants us somewhere else.

I actually learned this on my very first trip to Haiti.  I transitioned from a week in Saint Louis du Nord to Saint Michael where I was supposed to spend my remaining five weeks.  I ended up only spending a few days in Saint Michael, but God used that time to show me that He had better plans for me in Saint Louis du Nord.

Oh, how this resembles my time in Delice.  I moved here with the intention of staying long-term, but God actually used this season to show me that it was okay to move back to the US.  It’s time.  This is God’s plan.  But if I had stayed in Cap-Haitien, I don’t think I ever would have left.  Coming here was a necessary step in making the decision to leave.

Haiti has taught me that it’s okay to let someone else be the hands and feet of Jesus to me.

When it rains hard in Cap-Haitien, everything floods.  As I walked the dirt road to my goddaughter’s house, I came to the spot that is normally a dry ravine.  After a few days of rain, though, it was a gently flowing river.  As I walked across, I stepped in exactly the wrong place and came out with my feet and ankles covered in mud.

Great.

Suddenly, there was a woman at my side.  A complete stranger who had seen my predicament and came running out of her house with a bucket of water and a rag.

“Ban m lave pye w yo,” she said.  Let me wash your feet.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.  “You’ll get dirty.”  But she was already stooping beside me.  Gently, she removed my feet from my sandals and poured cool, clean water over them.  She didn’t care that her own skirt was in the dirt.

When my feet and sandals were as clean as if I had just stepped out of the shower, she stood and smiled.  I said “thank you,” but I wanted so say more.  I wanted to say that her humble act of service meant the world to me.  I wanted to say that I would never forget her.  I wanted to tell her that on a dirty, muddy road in Haiti, I met Jesus because I saw Him in her.

Haiti has taught me that for someone with an ingrained desire to save the world, sometimes it’s okay to focus on just saving myself.

I have often been told that I as a Christian, I am supposed to love God first, then others, then myself.  Loving others, serving others, and caring for others must come before loving, serving, and caring for myself.  People quote Mark 12:30-31 and say, “Jesus, then others, then yourself.  See?”

But living in a country where it’s a million degrees, it’s 5000% humidity, and nothing seems to get done right the first time…I learned that self-love and self-care have to come first.  Serving others comes from the overflow of that.  I can’t serve from an empty cup.

Mark 12:31 says, “love your neighbor as yourself.”  Not before yourself.  In order to love, serve, and care for your neighbor well, you have to love, serve, and care for yourself well.

Haiti has taught me that safety is overrated.

I can’t tell you how many people tried to convince me not to move to Haiti because “it’s so dangerous there!”

I can give you a thousand responses to this…like “don’t buy into the way the media portrays this country”…like violent crime statistics from around the globe…like my experiences with safety here in Haiti…

But the bottom line is that Jesus called His followers to many things.  Personal safety was never one of them.

In Haiti, did I run into situations I didn’t want to be in?  Yes.

Did I get a terrible Caribbean disease that made me feel like I was dying for a week?  Yes.

Would I do it all over again?  In a heartbeat.

Because the safest place for us as Christ-followers is in the middle of God’s will…wherever that is.

Haiti has taught me to never underestimate the power of prayer.

This blog post from 2015 says it all.

http://myheart4haiti.blogspot.com/2015/05/deploy-troops-send-in-backup-go-go-go.html

Haiti has taught me that there are blessings in the things I don’t want to do.

I didn’t want to drive an hour away to bring a woman from the community to a maternity clinic because she was having trouble breastfeeding.  But I was incredibly blessed to sit with her as other Haitian moms gave her advice and education.

I didn’t want to go out of my way driving a former student home every day.  But I was incredibly blessed when his father stopped me in the street to thank me profusely for the gift of transportation.

I didn’t want to go all the way out to the hour-away kindergarten graduation ceremony.  But I was incredibly blessed to join in celebration with a family that was rejoicing in opportunity for their children to get an education.

Haiti has taught me how to care for orphans and vulnerable children.

Louis was only 8 years old when he spent two hours screaming at me from the other side of the closed door, chucking spoons at it every few minutes.

Was he this upset about being put in time-out for punching another child?  No.  He was really upset about being abandoned.  Again.  By another care-giver.  He was really upset because 8-year-olds shouldn’t have this much heartache and pain.  Nobody should.  He was really upset because he’s a little kid with big emotions that he didn’t know what to do with.

So I sat on the other side of the door.  And when he finally calmed down, two hours later, I was there to sit with him and tell him that I loved him no matter what.

And when Anna cried in school every day, it wasn’t because the cursive worksheet was too hard.  It was because she had a hole in her heart waiting to be filled with love.

Caring for kids with trauma is challenging in so many ways.  I am certainly not an expert, but I know that the past four years have prepared me to be a foster mom.

Dear Haiti,

Thank you for the memories.  Thank you for the lessons.  Thank you for everything you have been for me.  I will never forget the past four years.  They have been the best years of my life.

Field Trip

On the last day before Christmas break, I decided to be a brave teacher and take my class on a field trip up to the nearby fort.  It's about a 45-minute hike from the school.

Here's my pre-hike "what am I getting myself into and why am I not bringing back-up??"face.


A distant view of the fort as we set off.
Since we had just talked about the wise men following the star to find baby Jesus, the kids were excited to pretend we were distant voyagers following the moon to find the fort.


The long walk up.  And up.  And up.


Yay!! We made it!


Enjoying a book and snack when we arrived.


Exploring.


A beautiful view of how far we've come.


There's no place like TOGETHER. <3

A heart full of thanks

I was so lucky this year.  Our 'Around the World - USA' unit happened to coincide perfectly with Thanksgiving (That NEVER happens.  Usually we don't start our Around the World unit until later in the year.)

So being the well-planned teacher that I am (okay, fine...being the LUCKY teacher that I am), I got to spend the past week talking to my Haitian kiddos about thankfulness and how we celebrate thankfulness in America.

Even though these guys won't be celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow, they couldn't wait to tell you all the things they are thankful for...











This thanksgiving season, I am so thankful for my class.  We have our fair share of both laughter and tears, but these sweet kiddos make getting out of bed worth it every day.

Like Jonathon, I am thankful for God's grace.  Because life is hard.  Orphan care is hard.  International missions is hard.  Just adulting is hard.  But God's grace covers it all.

I am thankful for you.  My friends.  My family.  My prayer warriors.  You are my tribe and I am forever grateful for your presence in my life.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Rest

Every year when the new school year begins, I ask God to give me a word.  Just one word for the year.  Last year, He gave me the word brave.  Throughout the year, He taught me about being brave   He showed me that courage is not the absence of fear – it is strength and faith in the midst of it.  He gave me countless opportunities to practice bravery and helped me say yes to those opportunities, even when I wanted to run away.

The word brave made sense last year.

This year, I asked for a new word.  Every night I invited God to speak to my heart as I opened my soul to what He had for me for the upcoming year.  At least, I thought I was open to what He had for me…until He gave me the word rest.

When I think of the word ‘rest’ I think of laziness and inactivity.  For someone who can hardly sit still long enough to read a good book, the idea of rest doesn’t come easily.

“Are You sure that’s the word You want for me, Lord?” I asked after three straight nights of hearing it from Him.

“Yes, Erin.  I want you to rest.”

When I finally submitted myself to the idea that this year would be about rest, I started to think about what that actually meant.  Soon, I realized that the rest God wants for me in this season of my life isn’t the physical rest of inactivity and it certainly isn’t laziness.  As a matter of fact, there is a LOT of activity going on in my life right now (chasing after 5-year-olds all day tends to be a pretty active job.)  Instead, rest for me looks like resting in God’s promises.  Resting in His provision.  Resting in His faithfulness and His infinite love.  Resting in everything He is and everything I am in Him.

So what am I resting in, specifically?

God promises that when life gets hard – when the storm rages and the fires roar – He will see me through.  I am resting in His promise to protect me through it all.

God promises to make all things work together for my good and His glory.  I am resting in His goodness, even when I don’t see it manifest the way I want it to.

God promises to lead me the way a shepherd leads a sheep.  Carefully, intentionally, lovingly.  I am resting in my Shepherd’s expert care and guidance.

God promises to be everything I need and more than I expect.  I am resting in His arms, trusting Him to provide for every need in a way that only He can do.

Stay. Find what you were made for.

Why I support World Suicide Prevention Day

You may have noticed me posting a lot of pictures this month with hashtags #WSPD17 and #iwasmadefor and the phrase “Stay.  Find what you were made for.”  You may have wondered why.

Well, September 10th was World Suicide Prevention Day (WSPD).  Lots of organizations took the opportunity to spread awareness about suicide.  One organization doing a lot of good in the world of suicide prevention is To Write Love On Her Arms (TWLOHA).

This year, I joined TWLOHA’s campaign by talking about what I was made for and encouraging others to stay and find what they were made for.  I didn’t want to just talk about it on September 10^th, so I decided to make it a month-long photo series.

Now that September is over, I want to share with you a little bit more about WHY I support World Suicide Prevention Day.

*   *   *

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because at fifteen, plan A was surviving high school.  Plan B was running away.  Plan C was suicide.  I didn’t actually think plan A was possible.  I almost went through with plan B a number of times.  Although I never got to the point where plan C seemed like the best option, I kept it on the back burner…just in case.

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because I want EVERYONE to know that suicide doesn’t have to be your plan A or B or C.  There is hope.  There is help.

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because I know what I was made for…but I want others to know that they don’t have to have it figured out yet.  They just have to stay until the do.

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because I believe that spreading awareness is the first step to prevention.  We have to talk about it.

Hang on…did you catch that?  Do I need to say it louder?  WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT!!

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because there is still a huge stigma around mental health that shouldn’t be there.  I want my future daughters to grow up in a world without that stigma.  Again, talking about it is the first step.

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because I want my friends to know that if they ever need to talk, I’m right here.  There’s no shame in saying “I can’t fight this battle alone anymore.” (Chances are, you’ve been fighting it alone for way too long.  So please, let me help you carry that burden.)

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because I stayed.  And I want you to stay, too.

*   *   *

If you or someone you know is considering suicide or any other form of self-harm, PLEASE reach out.  The National Suicide Prevention Hotline is available 24/7 at 1-800-273-8255

There’s also an online chat feature available here: http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/GetHelp/LifelineChat.aspx

For more resources on mental health and addiction, make sure to check out www.twloha.com

Five Years Later

Five years ago, I had the adventure of a lifetime as I journeyed to Haiti for the very first time.

Five years ago, I was looking out an airplane window squealing excitedly because “that’s it!  That’s it!  That’s Haiti!!”

Five years ago, I was walking down a dirt street hand-in-hand with a five-year-old boy.  Dodging motorcycles and soaking in the sights and sounds of Saint Louis du Nord, Haiti.

Five years ago, I was dancing under the stars with Janide, falling in love with something totally new.

Five years ago, I was stumbling sloppily through a language I hardly knew, using a combination of French, English, Creole, charades, and awkward laughter to communicate.

Five years ago, I was exhausted.  I was confused as I wondered if I really could be a long-term missionary.  I was questioning God’s call for my life because living in Haiti was just so hard and I was just so lonely.

Five years ago, I left Haiti with tears streaming down my cheeks, promising my host family, my Haitian friends, and myself that this wasn’t goodbye.  This was just “see you later.”  By the time I got on the plane back to Arizona, I had no doubt in my mind that living in Haiti was my new dream.

____________________________________________________________

Now, five years later, I’m embarking on a new dream.

Now, I’m packing my bags…and boxes…and crates…and tubs…and anything else I can find.  I’m taking myself and my cat and all of my belongings and moving across the country to start a new job.  A new adventure.  A new life.

Now, I'm saying my goodbyes – which aren’t really goodbyes, because I’ll come back to visit, I promise! – in fluent Creole.  I’m savoring every hand-hold, every hug, every conversation knowing that it may be the last.

Now, I’m wading through the bittersweet transition, the heartbreak, the confusion, the joy, the excitement, the fears, the questions, the uncertainty, and the certainty with courage that only God has given me.  How appropriate that the words God gave me for this year were BE BRAVE.

Now, I’m trusting God with all the details, all the plans, all the moments that I wish could last forever and all the moments that I can’t wait to happen on the other side.  I’m trusting God with my move, my summer, my new home, my new job, and especially my new dream of adoption.  I don’t know where this road will lead me, but as long as God is the One guiding me, I know I have no reason to be afraid.

Duck and Cover

It's official.  Mango season has arrived.  And I couldn't be happier.

Every year for mango season, we try to take our residential kids mango picking.  (I use the word "picking" lightly because it's actually more like a very extravagant Easter egg hunt than anything else.)  Anyway, this was the first year that I had the chance to go.  And what an adventure it was!  Here are a few pictures so that you can feel like you were part of the adventure...or maybe so that I can show off how awesome my life is.  You choose which.

 The hour and a half bus ride there.

Off to find the mango trees.

Trying to cross the giant mud swamp.  Only 4 or 5 kids fell in...

The view.

MANGO TIME!!

I call this one "Duck and cover because someone's up in the mango tree shaking branches and geez those falling mangoes hurt...but only those brave enough to stand under the tree are quick enough to get the mangoes...so just cover your head and hope for the best."

A little tree climbing while we wait for everyone to finish up.

Headed back on the bus. 

Some of us were a little tired...

About 1/10 of today's haul.

The moral of the story?  Be jealous of mango season in Haiti.

Confession: I am discouraged

I almost didn't post this blog.  I almost decided it was better to hide behind the cute pictures and happy smiles and "everything's great when you're a missionary" facade.  But then I decided that there's nothing more beautiful than being real and honest and broken.  So here's the blog post I almost didn't publish...

..................................................................

If you look at my Facebook page, you'll see pictures of cute kids with big smiles and a happy teacher.  You'll see crafts and Bible verses, cupcakes and dance routines.  You'll see a whole lot of happy.

And all of that is true.

But what you see on Facebook is only 5% of my reality...and usually the best 5%.  What you don't see are the late nights I spend on my knees begging God for direction and not understanding why I can't hear His voice.  You don't see the fears and the heartache and the questions and the doubt.  You don't see the tears that make me human or the heart that makes me real.

So here I am - just me and my heart and a whole lot of messy honesty.  Because the truth is that right now, I am discouraged.

I'm discouraged because God has given me a vision.  It's an amazing vision, but a vision that not everyone shares.

I'm discouraged because I feel forgotten.  Because texts, phone calls, emails, and Skype dates are few and far between.  Because after three years, no one bothers to send cards or care packages anymore.

I'm discouraged because saying hello to something new means saying goodbye to something I love.  And I simply don't want to do that.

I'm discouraged because I don't feel brave or strong or inspiring or any of the other things I want for myself.

I'm discouraged because words of encouragement are scarce and I wonder if it's because I'm doing something wrong.

I'm discouraged because even though I haven't lived with depression for a very long time, there are days it still tugs at the corner of mind, trying to get back in.

I'm.  Just.  Discouraged.

And I hesitate to tell you all of this because I don't want you to think I'm complaining.  I don't want you to think I don't love my life.  I don't want you to think I can't handle everything God has blessed me with.

But I tell you it anyway because I want you to know that I'm human.  That I'm real.  That being a "missionary" doesn't make me a superhero.  And it certainly doesn't keep me from getting discouraged.

International Women's Day - What I Want My Girls To Know

Today is International Women’s Day – a chance to celebrate women.  As I have been reflecting on this topic which I am so passionate about, I have been thinking about what I want to teach my female students about what it means to be a woman.  Because underneath the curly hair and school day ribbons, the blue uniforms, dirt-streaked faces, and skinned up knees, these five-year-olds are women.  And I want them to learn what that means.

I want my girls to know that they deserve respect.  That nobody has the right to treat them disrespectfully for any reason, including their gender.

I want my girls to know that they are strong and that strength has nothing to do with muscles.  Strength is standing up for what is right.  It’s loving completely.  It’s doing hard things.  It’s getting knocked down, standing up, brushing off the dust, and going back for round two.

I want my girls to know that there is hope.  Life is hard, particularly the life of poverty they have been born into.  But there is hope in the midst of it and there is also hope for a better future.

I want my girls to know that they are never alone.  That they will always have teachers, parents, siblings, and friends on their side.  Most importantly, they have a God who will never leave them or forsake them.

I want my girls to know that they can change the world.  Their stories, their opinions, and their voices matter, and if used properly, they can change the world for the better.

I want my girls to know that they can impact someone’s life.  Their struggles and hardships, their victories and triumphs.  By sharing these with others, they can have a lasting impact on another person.

I want my girls to know that they are beautiful, inside and out.  Their hearts, souls, and minds are beautiful.  Their skin, hair, and faces are beautiful.  Every inch of them is imprinted with the beauty of their Creator.

I want my girls to know that they are valued and loved.  No matter who they are, where they’ve been, or what they’ve done, they will ALWAYS be valued and loved beyond what they can possibly imagine.  There is a God in heaven who could never love them more or less than he does right now.

To be a woman is to deserve respect, to be strong, to have hope, to never be alone, to have the power to change the world and impact someone’s life, to be beautiful and valued and loved.

I celebrate International Women’s Day because I celebrate women and what it means to be a strong, beautiful woman.

National Eating Disorder Awareness Week

For the past two years, I have had the privilege of using my blog to share my story for National Eating Disorder Awareness Week.  This year, rather than doing daily blogs, I decided to do daily videos.  If you missed seeing them on Facebook, you can check them out below!

Introduction - This video talks about why EVERYONE needs to be aware of eating disorders.  Yes, everyone includes YOU.  (You over there who thinks you aren't affected by eating disorders, I'm talking to you!)  Click here to watch.

Day 1 - This video discusses the most dangerous myth about eating disorders.  Click here to watch.

Day 2 - On day 2, I talked about hidden warning signs that aren't as obvious as we pretend they are.  Click here to watch.

Day 3 - What would it be like if we actually LOVED our bodies?  This video comes with a challenge to reconsider the way you think about and talk about your body.  Click here to watch.

Day 4 - A deeply personal but extremely important video about the role that exercise and self-harm play in eating disorders.  Click here to watch.

Day 5 - This video talks about the fact that recovery is possible, but it isn't one-size-fits-all.  These are some common barriers to recovery and how they can be overcome.  Click here to watch.

Day 6 - I have been told that a person never fully recovers from an eating disorder.  This is a MYTH!  Watch this video to hear about full recovery and COMPLETE freedom.  Click here to watch.

Day 7 - None of these videos matter if you don't walk away changed.  Here is a challenge for changing the way you think about, talk about, and interact with eating disorders.  Click here to watch.

To everyone who has supported me through NEDA week, to everyone who watched, commented, liked, and shared, to everyone who took the time to look at eating disorders with fresh eyes: THANK YOU.  I couldn't have done it without you.

Lamou se fòs ki pi fò nan mond lan. (Love is the most powerful force on the planet.)

 

These words were penned by Jamie Tworkowski, founder of the non-profit organization To Write Love on Her Arms.  Today, a day set aside to honor and celebrate love, I can’t think of any truer words. 

Love is the most powerful force on the planet.

What if we lived like these words were true?  What if in politics, relationships, orphan care, and every other area of life, we embraced the power of love?  What if we allowed it to transform how we treat people?  What if we allowed it to transform how we treat ourselves?

From before time began, God has been proof that love is everything.

From the moment He created mankind in His own image, God has shown us that love is everything.

From the day you were born, God has spent every day teaching you that love is everything.

When Jesus came to earth, lived a life of unconditional love, and died on the cross, He gave us the perfect example of the fact that love is everything.

God’s love is eternal.  Infinite.  Unconditional.  Perfect.  Strong.  And powerful.  As a matter of fact, it’s the most powerful force on the planet. 

How do we live love in our classroom?

We live love when we help each other understand hard concepts.

 

We live love when we apologize through tears of remorse and when we forgive with ease.

We live love with acts of kindness.

We live love when we pray for others – when we pray for America, Haiti, hurricane victims, and Anna’s baby brother who has been in the hospital for a month.

We live love when we proclaim affirmations over ourselves every morning (self-love is an often-overlooked, but extremely important aspect of love.)

 

We live love every day because God is love and we are His and therefore His love is in us and through us and among us.  The bottom line is: we are called to love.  To love God.  To love others.  To love ourselves.  To love as eternally and infinitely and unconditionally as we are capable of.  To love completely and imperfectly.  To just love.

Happy Valentine’s Day.