This summer David and I traveled to Africa on a mission trip and we had an amazing experience. The thing with trips like that one is that months later you come across a picture and realize that something inside you has changed. You look differently not only at those in the picture from around the world, but it prods at your gut knowing you've seen yourself differently.
We took this photo, and I say we, because out of the 3000++ pics we took its a blur whose is whose at this point.
It was so wonderful watching these young boys play in the water, swimming and splashing each other. They were so happy. As we snapped these pictures our friend, Rury, one of the staffed missionaries told us he loves to watch the kids come out of their shells. You see, school was out for holiday, usually a month's time off, and these boys go across the river to stay during that whole month to tend to the cattle there. They are without parents or grandparents or guardian's supervision. (Some urban moms just gasped and swallowed their gum.) But this is a good thing that they are not supervised. Rury told us that when the boys are back in school and back in their huts with their families that the culture in the village is to tell these kids how stupid they are, how they'll never amount to anything. Day after day after minute after minute they are told that their worth is nothing. Rury talks about how their demeanor changes the moment they cross back over the river and their feet become dusty with village soil. They walk with blank stares, solemn and angry. Our friend, Percy, has talked so much about wanting to save the youth of his village many times. Now I see it. Most young boys grow up in the village dependent on the local beer that is sold here and have no ambition to do anything. It's quite sad. It made us cry as we looked out on this moment. I was frozen there, imagining what they must feel at this very moment and imagining the pain in their hearts when they know they must return. Visions of the Lost Boys from Peter Pan fly through my mind. Oh, why can't Neverland be real for them. It changed the view for me. My horizon widened from the river banks to the village streets to the huts tucked behind the bar. I pray that these children never forget to laugh like this. I pray they never forget to play and splash around in their lives. I pray they know that Jesus loves them and that their Heavenly Father finds them worthy, so worthy. I pray the cycle of trash talking the children stops.
As I looked back on the Africa trip pictures the other day then to my own family pics, there it was. The prodding in my own gut. The parallels of African riverbanks to my own threshold in my home. But this time, I'm the bully. And my victim is myself. Every morning I wake up to the same reflection in my mirror. I'm disappointed in what she looks like. Gray hair. Wrinkles. Large, flabby upper arms. Spare tire around the middle. I cry if I look too long and dwell on how I've come to see myself. But there I am every damn day of my life trash talking myself. It's disgusting what thoughts I let run through my brain and directly to my heart. If I talked like that to anyone else besides myself I would be arrested for a hate crime.
It hit me. It hit me hard. I was no better than those people who brought down those boys with their nasty attitudes and hateful words. The tears I shed for them on the banks of the Zambezi rolled down the cheeks of my soul to rest there preserving that feeling for the time I would wake up, realizing what I was doing to myself. I could taste the salt of my tears months later. I needed to stop.
I am worthy. The Holy Spirit resides in my heart. Christ sent the comforter to me. I've been fat talking myself to the point where I couldn't see my own worth anymore. With the help of some amazing women, I am making my way back to loving myself. Changing my thought processes about how I view me, food, exercise, etc. I pray that I haven't damaged my daughter's view of herself as she has watched me fat talk my perception of me. I would kick my ass if I thought I was giving her the wrong impression of herself.
So no more fat talk. No more unworthy attitudes. Stop the madness. No excuses. I am worthy.
2 Timothy 2:15 ESV
Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth.
Romans 8:5 ESV
For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit.
Dear Heavenly Father, forgive me for dwelling on something so superficial. This is not your plan for me. It is not glorifying you, it is glorifying me in a weird, sick way. Help me let go of this skewed view of myself and cherish this physical shell and take care of it the way it's meant to be. I want to be useful in Your will. Focus my eyes on you and understand my worthiness through your eyes and not my own. Thank you, Father, for giving me life, breath, health.
