You know art museums?  Those places you go to admire works that have persisted in immortal beauty.  Well, there are some images that have not stood the test of time — the hideous portraits of …

women.

Stay with me, I know that sounds mean.  But, c’mon.  The unibrows, the short ruffled hair, the pale skin, the fat rolls.  The stares of death.  Did they know they weren’t on fleek?  That one day we wouldn’t get their aesthetic?  FR they are so not TD.  (That’s “for real” and “to die” for those of us who aren’t hip anymore- I googled it for us).

Well, not so much.  You see, these works of art reveal women who were completely “finesse” for their day.  They were proud of their selfies as men appreciated their non sun-kissed skin, muffin tops, and fat dimpled thighs.  Besides the past 100 years, most of human history upheld beautiful bodies as the weightier, the better.  Curvy meant you had more than enough food to eat.  Pale was in, blonde was out.  If you were a part of the Han Dynasty, you better have small feet but if you were part of Victorian England, your waist better be cinched.  Ancient Greece preferred full-bodied and plump women whereas Ancient Egypt preferred slender, narrow shouldered women.  Traditional African beauty included such practices as “fattening rooms” for young soon-to-be brides (um, yes please!).

Centuries later, we now look upon these works of art with a little chuckle, or maybe disgust.  Because 2017 is full of images that are quite the contrary — sparkly bronzed skin, perfectly painted eyebrows, plump selfie puckers, rail-thin legs, essential thigh gaps, and perfectly perky curves.  Beauty standards, that in some cases, are only attainable through a knife.  I think our predecessors would be appalled with such nonsense.  And feel super lucky they weren’t born at such a time. Rightfully so.

Even though I’ve already seen flaky fads in my era, I semi-consciously hold fleeting beauty standards in high regard.  Like they are my measurement of self worth.  Are the flawless images bombarding us my standards?  Or maybe my own judgments about my looks and body?  Perhaps my outlook was influenced by my mom’s words.  Or that criticism I still remember when a high school “friend” proclaimed to everyone I “wasn’t even cute.”

And how impossible are sticky critiques and self criticism coupled with current beauty standards?

My thighs and waistline must get thinner. But my bust and butt must get fuller.  Lips luscious and forehead firm.   Expression lines are to be feared and gravity must be dominated.  Should I hold back from laughing so much?  Not squint in the sun?  I thought my eyebrows were supposed to be plucked and sharp and now they’re supposed to be messy and bushy???  And how is it that men get more sexy with age and women get more… judged?  Who can keep up with such craziness?

So, when visiting art museums, I get a little pep in my step.  First, because I think, “wow, I’ve got it going on.” Unlike flipping through InStyle or Glamour or Seventeen, which often lead me to a self-confidence funk.  But, secondly, I think about the fleeting nature of beauty standards.  Here today, gone tomorrow.  Slaying it one day, so DONE the next.  I realize I should feel free by the reality that…

CURRENT BEAUTY STANDARDS WILL NOT STAND THE TEST OF TIME.

Go ahead, enjoy some.  Pick something you like… I do that too.  But let’s not measure ourselves against them.  Let’s not allow such foolishness to be our truth.  Let’s work hard on the inside stuff that holds the test of time.  That speaks louder and longer than the outward trends.  Character, laughter, lover of people, encourager.  I want to be a woman who is authentic and secure and confident.  To be a good steward of my relationships and positions and words.

I want to be a woman who brings Heaven to earth, not a woman who compares myself to earthly standards.

Those inside things will succeed us in an eternal way.  Even in a mere 10 years, we will judge our stupidity.  Our kids will observe our pictures in fields and broken down cars and vintage suitcases and die laughing.  We’ll remember face contouring and skinny jeans and ombre’s and go “what were we thinking???”  Not to mention the centuries behind us.

So, in short, go visit an art museum.  Put down InStyle and look up some portraits of women in the Italian Renaissance.  You’ll stare face to face with the reality of our fleeting beauty pressures.  And you’ll be better off for the reminder that — they are not our standards of self-worth.

xoxo~

I have a lot of questions for 2017.  But only after I ask a few of 2016.

Many feel 2016 was a merciless savage to the world.  Social media tells a story of struggle and a celebration of good riddance.  My own family’s year included some polarizing experiences, some of our highest highs and deepest lows.  We began the year by moving 700 miles in a blizzard.  It was us—  our two U-hauls, two cars, babies, all of our belongings, “Pop”—  and about 50 electrical trucks traveling North on I-95 to beat “Jonas”, the worst winter storm to hit the DC area in a decade.  It wasn’t the hello I envisioned for us Floridians, but I heard an unexpected whisper in my spirit…

My daughter, this is going to be much harder than you think, but it doesn’t mean you’re not right where I want you.”

And much of 2016 was just that –a hike up a mountainside, with glimpses of beauty all around us and sharp rocks making it a shaky trek.

You see, we took some GIGANTIC faith steps in 2016, and we’re still feeling the weight of those.  So pinterest boards and lists of stretch goals aren’t that appealing to me this new year.  And that makes me feel slightly left behind as everyone else plots out all the amazing ways they plan to dominate 2017.

Even though the calendar flipped, I’ve not yet transformed into my usual goal-setting optimist self, calling on my inner Tony Robbins to “take massive action!”  Nope, this time I’ve hit pause to make time to sit with a few things from last year, to sort through them, time which, despite my intentions, did NOT happen the week between Christmas and New Years.  (I’ve learned that a house full of rowdy boys doesn’t lend itself toward much profound introspection.)

Before I can begin to dream about 2017, I have some real questions.  For myself.  For God. For the world.

I imagine myself as Oprah, having God over for an afternoon cup of coffee in my backyard and a little chat, getting His insight on a couple things…“That year 2016- what was that all about?  Why can’t we overcome brokenness…isn’t that the point of Jesus?  That we overcome and live differently even on this side of Heaven?  How long will hateful quarrels be our country’s conversation?  Why do marriages have to end?  The innocent babies suffering in Syria… who will do something?   Why does disappointment seem never ending?” (Don’t worry, I’d make sure to air it on “Super Soul Sunday” so we could all enjoy the answers.)

As I process through these questions in hope of some insight, I’m still annoyed that I’m starting my year like this. Feeling behind and on the reactive side of asking, instead of on the proactive side of resolving doesn’t line up well for me.  I’m a go-getter, driven, work my a– off kinda girl. I’m not a wallower or a venter.  I’m a solutions-finder.  I may struggle with tardiness and perfectionism, but I’m a curious visionary on a quest to go somewhere.  I’m your typical new-years-resolution setter, so this place of confusion and inquiry is quite frustrating.

And yet it fits perfectly with my fresh outlook of letting go of silly perfectionistic standards and embracing messy.  So, maybe this is actually the PERFECT way to start the year, forcing me to continue working on these areas of authenticity and vulnerability.  Of self compassion.  Of facing my fears of inadequacy.  I’m seeing that my inclination to put the brakes on January is actually me asking these hidden, core questions…

“How can I be resilient from 2016 and still hopeful for 2017?”

I can’t authentically make any resolutions until I choose hope.  And I can’t choose hope for 2017 until I figure out how to overcome the adversities of 2016.  So this question forces me to do the hard, uncomfortable work of digging deep.  If I can face the pain of the previous year, I am one step closer to leading the resilient life I want to live.  An honest assessment will also help me shovel out any bitterness from unanswered prayers and unending questions.  Because bitterness doesn’t belong in my heart and isn’t a part of resilient, wholehearted living.

According to Brene Brown, a research professor and author of the book “The Gifts of Imperfection,” hope is an essential piece of wholehearted living.  She explains that hope is actually a conscious choice.  It’s not an emotion, it’s a way of thinking.  Hope can be learned and cultivated.  She goes on to say,

The new cultural belief that everything should be fun, fast and easy, is inconsistent with hopeful thinking.  It also sets us up for hopelessness.  If we want to cultivate hopefulness, we have to be wiling to be flexible and demonstrate perseverance.  Tolerance for disappointment, determination, and a belief in self are at the heart of hope.”

What’s encouraging through all of this is that the intentional skills of overcoming adversity and living with hope are not for the spiritually elite or those with seemingly perfect lives.  No, resilience and hope are for ALL of us.  They are most powerful when we face our pain and disappointment first… and then hope in spite of them.  Because hope does not come without adversity. It requires a persevering choice.

I’m reminded of Psalms 39:7 in my quest to find hope…

And now, Lord, what do I wait for?
My hope is in You.”

And I repeat to myself… my hope is in You.  My hope is in YOU.  When I feel the pain of disappointment and the fear of uncertainty, I pray, I cry, I ask God every question I can think of.  I listen, I write and I repeat… my hope is in You.

Sometimes, I need this pairing of solid secular research with the truths of the scriptures to remind me, “Kassie, put your big girl panties on and persevere until that hope is yours.  Fight for hope with everything you’ve got.”

So, as I dig into the discomforts of 2016, I’m realizing that my first resolution of the new year is that…

I want to embrace disappointment and actively choose hope.

After all, I can’t control every circumstance and outcome, but I can control my response and outlook.  I can control how much I put my hope in Him, despite how much harder my year has been or will be.  I’m so thankful for the whisper that is ever present, waiting on me to incline my ear.  I’m so thankful for the opportunities I have this year to persevere for resiliency and hopefulness, and, i’m expecting that 2017 might just be my best year yet.

Cheers to a year of cultivating resiliency and hopefulness, friends. And thank you, 2016, for teeing up this much-needed-lesson.

PS:  If you’d like a copy of Brene Brown’s book, you can click here.  (pretty life changing stuff)

A new season — a new space where I’ve not yet existed.  This fall I said good-bye to full time employment on church staff.  An 11 year season coming to a close.

As I process all of the highs and lows of the previous season, I actively seek what’s next.  The dreamer and hope-finder in me is alive & well, but the strategist and planner within craves an excel spreadsheet.

Instead, all i have is my vulnerable heart that says hope is worth the risk.

That letting go of my own expectations for myself and my standards of perfection is the next step I see most clearly. That my willingness to miss out in some familiar places will lead to flourishing in wide open spaces. Spaces purposed intentionally for me, thoughtfully created with my intricacies in mind. That maybe, just maybe, there are some desires deep down put there by purposeful design.

But without the holy excuse of my paycheck coming from elsewhere, my insecurities and fears are now exposed…

I actually don’t believe in myself. 

I mean, yes, I believe in myself when I’m hidden in “we”, but when it’s up to just “me”, I feel like a fraud and failure.

Don’t get me wrong, “we” is incredibly important.  “We” is honorable and essential.  But “we”, for me, is now a dead leaf on a tree.  It once was fresh and vibrant, but the signs of the season being done were that it was dead and desperately hanging on– the leaf needed to fall and make way for something new.  And through this necessary ending, I am now gifted with the opportunity to learn something full of spring green… that letting go and employing confidence in myself requires just as much hard work as humbly submitting to others’ visions once did.  

Because isn’t it like our Father to keep us on our toes?  Right when we’re in a groove and feeling good about our mastery, there’s a twist.  A change.  A curveball.  There’s another part of the mountain to explore now.  And for me, this new adventure is without my usual buffers.  Instead, I have to be exposed and vulnerable.  To risk failure and judgments and be OK when those happen.  Venturing into the new can be scary enough, but treading it alone is terrifying.

I think Bryant McGill said it best:

“Maybe your life is not falling apart;
Maybe it’s falling together.
Don’t fearfully hold on to what needs to end.
The familiar life crumbles so new life can begin.”

And in my daily grind of the unknown, one thing is certain — I’m discovering more of who I am and Whose I am.

It’s a bit of a mystery how letting go and pausing can propel us forward.  How saying “this is who I’m not” can make a way for us to embrace who we are.  I’m learning new angles of both myself and of God.  Reminding me that HE IS THE MOST CREATIVE BEING I know.  And I can trust Him to bring it all together.

I’m discovering life is not one eternal summer (even though my Floridian children have NOT come to terms with this).  No, life is seasons. Fall involves death. Winter requires the pause of hibernation. And spring blooms new life in the brightest green. Each is natural. Each is necessary.

So for now, I’m falling — and pausing — and surely preparing to spring. In due season.

Dear friends, may you embrace fully whatever season you find yourself.  It is an oh-so-worth-it journey.

Happy falling together~

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Sometimes, life brings us fear.  Often, it’s just a whole lot of uncertainty.  I have found fear in uncertainty can stop me dead in my tracks.  Leaving me afraid to move forward.  Afraid to risk.  Paralyzed with thoughts about all the “what if’s” instead of the what “could be’s.”

How interesting that some things about life become so much more clear in nature.  Like, why do I have to have a near death experience or be completely void of toilets and makeup to encounter really good revelation?  (On that note… why don’t men get more clarity when they grocery shop or change poopie diapers? Wouldn’t that be nice for us?)

Anyway, lessons upon lessons I learned from skiing.  It’s as if the slopes are an analogy of my current season.  They show me that I don’t need every detail figured out before I move forward.  And if I let go of fear in the uncertainty, it will be worth it.

Before I move onto some key lessons, I want to affirm fear.  Fear can be a really healthy, productive emotion.  We have it for a reason.  Like to protect us from danger.  To keep us alive.  I am very thankful when my boys display a healthy fear of heights or cars (the rare times they do).  However, the flip side of fear is that it often disguises itself and can even deceive us into thinking it’s “wisdom”.  Like not doing something makes us feel “wise” because look at all the things that can go wrong!

So, in my few days of near death experiences, here are some key lessons I saw on my quest to overcome fear.

Lesson 1: It’s one slope at a time.

I set out in the beginning of the week to challenge myself. I wanted to be a natural, killing the blues fearlessly and smoothly. But I found myself trapped by fear, waiting until the last day to even try a blue (at least knowingly try :). What I found so scary was approaching the top of a hill and not seeing what was after. Would I fly off the mountain if I didn’t come to a stop? Would I tumble down the steep slope out of control? Would I make a complete fool of myself, or worse, run into other skiers and injure someone? I knew I wanted to complete as many blues as possible; however, I had to take it ONE slope at a time.

On the way down my first blue, I had to conquer those fears everytime I couldn’t see what was next. I had to tell myself, get through this hill… one s-turn at a time. When there was a little break, I would look back at the slope I just mastered and say to myself, wow you just did that, you can do the next!  Sometimes, we need to…

Just start moving and DON’T despise small steps.

You see, so often in life when we can’t see what’s next, what’s just around the corner, worry steals our current joy.  But when we take it one hill, or one step, or one day at a time, we conquer fears in those moments.  Then, we can celebrate on the other side.  We also gain valuable, needed momentum to keep going.

Paralysis breeds paralysis, but momentum breeds momentum.

Lesson 2: When something is wrong, tend to it immediately.

The minute I started skiing, I noticed that my right ski was a tad wobbly and my right quad felt strained. I ignored it. I tried not to worry about it.  Until the 3rd day, when I wanted to keep up with my husband to have a victorious last day of skiing and my ski boot buckle broke. Upon going to the shop and switching it out, I found out that my binding on my skis was all wrong. I witnessed the manager sternly talk with the employee who had issued my skis on the first day. The bright side was that they offered to comp me for another day of skiing, the down side was that we lost a lot of time on our last day and even worse, I spent 2 days skiing without the right comfort level.

It was a complete difference in my comfortability and control after I had the right skiis. I immediately started skiing down blues. Had I tended to the little symptoms that were first there, I would have enjoyed myself much more and conquered my goal much quicker. When we let little symptoms slide or when we don’t tend to problems immediately, things fester.  They get worse and don’t just go away.

Whether in relationships, in our own hearts or elsewhere, we save ourselves a lot of trouble if we notice the first signs of something wrong, then act to resolve it immediately.

Lesson 3: Ignore the strategy sometimes, it’s a journey you just have to take.

I wanted to study the map to ensure I wouldn’t take a wrong turn and end up on a black.

I wanted to follow others.

I wanted to keep doing the same runs instead of always trying a new slope and stop feeling like I never knew what was coming.

But, instead I had to push myself to keep going when I was alone and afraid. Push myself to try new runs and new experiences. What surprised me was that I felt peace as I was in those moments.  It’s as if the control that was holding me back was left behind in the snow powder, and all i could do was hope and pray that I would find my way down in one piece.  There’s something so freeing about letting go of control, a cousin to fear.

And maybe deep down I disguise control under strategy.  You see, I like to have a strategic plan laid out. I like to have my ducks in a row, but some times (or shall i say most times), life does not lend itself to having it all figured out.  In those moments, we fight back fear and let go of control.  We take steps of faith. We obey God when He says step – or stop – or sit – or rest – or go for it. And we watch Him lead and protect us.

And when we find ourselves stranded at a fork in the mountain where each way down is only by a black, we find an emergency pole make a call, take a really fun ride on a sled with the ski patrol, and gain a super funny story to tell. (not that i’m speaking from personal experience or anything:)

Sometimes, we just have stop strategizing and start moving.

Stop analyzing and start experiencing.

Stop the “what if” talk and start the “this is what happened” talk… the good, bad, ugly, beautiful, it’s all part of living, and I’d rather share about what did happen then always wonder what would have been.

Happy stepping friends~

xoxo