T’is the season.

As I wonder the isle of a busy Wal-Mart knowing very well my daughter is in loving arms at home with her aunt, I walk slowly admiring all that I can. I stop and smell candles, imagine different decorative pieces in my house, and push my cart down every isle. For the hour at least that I have been roaming the store there should be way more to show in my cart, but there isn’t yet I am happy. The little things right? Like wandering a Wal-Mart alone, hearing myself think and tackling that Christmas list one thing per hour. It’s all the time to ponder my own thoughts about this year’s Christmas, but above all the shopping, to-do lists, gifts, food planning, and time off work in this few hours I have time to think about God and Jesus Christ, the reason I have my family. I smile as kids throw tantrums because they aren’t getting the toy that they want and think to myself, “I’ve been there too momma!” I giggle at the teenage boys and girls with their friends trying to buy the perfect gift for their crush… again, I have been there too. Then I see weird clothes, ugly hair, bad makeup, horrible body odor, I see teenage moms with their kids walking 10 steps behind them, a pregnant woman with a pack of smokes and car keys in her hand, I hear a teenage couple whom are pregnant trying to argue quietly if abortion is the right choice, and you want to know what I did, I judged. I let horrible thoughts and feelings of hate into my heart regarding people I know nothing about. I let myself hate all of them for what my eyes saw and I didn’t even catch myself doing it. I did this without even dampening my mood just passed judgment and kept on to the next isles. 

Every isle of super Wal-Mart I have now walked. In the long lines I stood waiting for my turn. I started to unload my cart on the belt. It all fits at once and I wait for my turn. The man and his 5ish year old son in front of me, a couple bottles of waters, a blanket, a bag of halls, couple hand warmers and gloves, and a chocolate bar that I watched the little boy beg his dad for. 

“$15.82 please.” 
 -Card denied. 

“Can I run it as credit please?” 
-Card denied 

“Let’s try this card please” 
-Card denied 

“I’m sure I have some cash in my pockets” (Pocket change: a few quarters and couple nickels and dimes.) “Son, let’s put back the chocolate bar until next time.” (Man grabs the chocolate, water and one pair of the two gloves and hands them to the teller.) 

“Can I just purchase just these here now please.” 
-Card denied. Card denied. Card denied. 

The people behind me got frustrated and muttered under their breath as they moved their carts to a different line, “they don’t have time for this crap they still have so much shopping to do.” 

If I had been more conscientious of what was going on and not just watching/flipping through a magazine I would never have let it get that far. When it actually hit me what was going on tears filled my eyes. Different tears than the small boys silent tears because he didn’t get his chocolate bar, but tears because I let myself down. I was no better than the people who switched lines, I just didn’t vocalize it. I had walked aimlessly around Wal-Mart passing judgment on people I know nothing about for the last couple hours. I didn’t know this man’s story so why did I feel so strongly about helping him. Here, in front of my face was Gods reminder that we are all equal and created from him, the King of all Kings. 

Before the teller could deny this man and his son, I pulled my card from my pocket and told the teller to add back all of his items, I would cover the cost. You should have seen the sparkle in the kid’s eyes as he took his chocolate bar back. The tears in the father’s eyes burned a hole right through me and I was so embarrassed. The eyes of all those people I watched today, although they weren’t looking at me, I felt them. This man and his son left after much silently spilled gratitude and a quiet thank you. 

To the mother who is smoking while pregnant, I do not understand why you are doing what you are doing. To the mother who chose abortion, to the mother who chose to try and provide, to the mother who abuses her privileges to be a mother when others can’t. I hate that I hate you and judge you. 

I thought and prayed long and hard that night as I couldn’t sleep. I had a knot at the bottom of my heart which held my hate for my brothers and sisters that I didn’t even know. 

I wept as I was humbled by my answer. I can forgive them the same way God forgave ME for shedding the blood of his, of his only begotten son. The thought hit ground to the deepest part of my heart. Jesus hadn’t died FOR me. He died BECAUSE of me. It wasn’t the people that roamed the earth the same time as Christ that lead him to the cross; it was all of MY sins. There is nothing that sets me apart from all of these other mothers and families. NOTHING. There is no level of sin or hierarchy in which God judges us and thankfully that includes me, my sins, and my judgment towards gods other children. 

So I am sorry. I am so sorry. Instead of judging you I should be a smile, an acquaintance, a friend. I am sorry that the world doesn’t look at you like God looks at you and that I fell into this worldly trap. I am sorry society didn’t embrace you when you felt so alone. I am sorry we only saw from you what we wanted to see and didn’t actually see you. God isn’t mad at you and God doesn’t judge you. He loves you. There is nothing in this world that you could do for God not to love you because there was nothing you could do to earn his love. It is free. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you and so do I. 

I urge everyone reading this to remember this Christmas that Christ was in fact born; he lived, loved and died because of each of us. He loves each of us unconditionally with no price tag and nothing to gain but our relationship with him. 365 days a year he loves us. You are forgiven and you are doing a fantastic job no matter what your role. Go to bed at night with peace and love in your hearts and know that it is worth it. It is all really worth it… I am cheering for you, my friend! 

And to the father and son, that was the best most humbling $15.82 I have ever spent. You made me a better person. Thank-you!

With love, Merry Christmas and A blessed New Year.

In His Eyes.

As I lay in our bed last night enjoying the hands of my husband massaging my back I couldn't help but feel a little self conscious, or a lot. I had wanted this massage for my aching muscles yet my mind kept flashing images of my imperfect body; ones I had a hard time pushing aside. It was just a few hours previous those images were created as I stood before my mirror. Those love handles, thunder thighs, loose skin, saggy boobs, and mountains of cottage cheese and stretch marks were all still there as much as I had wished them away. I am self conscious simply looking at myself, so when he whispered in my ear my beauty and his love for me, water flooded my eyes and the hairs on my neck and my cochlea stood on end the way they do when you have goose-bumps. He is 24 years old. I know this man has seen a magazine or two, I know he has walked through Victoria Secret because I have dragged him through myself, and I know he has watched gorgeous woman on TV for I am guilty myself. These images are everywhere, yet he tells me I am beautiful. What is wrong with this guy? Surely he sees everything I see. 

He does. He sees everything I see and more. He is much taller than I so he can see my imperfection from above, which I can’t. He can see my imperfections side to side, top to bottom, bottom to top, this guy has a front row seat to a show I don't understand why any man or woman for that matter would want to go to. But... with his ability to see me from these angles he also sees much more. 

He sees eyes sore they are so full of exhaustion but a haze of love shields their break. He sees marks that remind him who gave him the greatest gift he could ever receive. Marks that trigger emotions he never knew he had while holding my hand through the pain of labor. He sees strips that remind him of the pain and sickness he wished he could carry for me. He sees the girl I was and the woman I have become. He sees the blisters left on my feet from the previous night before attempt to impress him. He sees the hips that he trusts above any to carry his one year old on. He sees the crease where the pony tail was and the shorter hairs where his daughter helped her mommy do her hair. He sees a chest that fed his newborn. The same chest that saved them so many screaming nights. He sees hands that protect his family when he is away at school, hands that fight off every bad guy or monster. He sees those same hands playing peek-a-boo for hours. He sees arms that hold his most precious gift, ones that comfort and ones that are so strong they never give up holding and hugs. He sees bruised knees spent from hovering over the bathtub where so many giggles and splashes were made. This man sees me rawer than I could ever see myself. Although I may think there is something wrong with him for what he sees as beauty, I believe him. I believe every word he tells me. I know without waver he thinks I am the most beautiful woman to walk this earth. 

Every night when I go to bed and he puts his arm around me and tells me of my beauty and his love I will let it sink in deep for all the reassurance I need is tucked under that comforter with me. Every. Single. Night I will listen to that same man and I will let him try to help me believe for myself.