My 600-lb. [Christian] Life

Hi.  My name is Chelsea, and I'm addicted to reality TV.

I know, I know.

Ashamedly, I'm one of those who's kept the likes of The Bachelor, Toddlers and Tiaras, and even (gulp) Jersey Shore in business.

I'm aware.  I should know better.  But there's something infinitely fascinating to me about how people live their lives--what they'll say without a script, what they'll do without direction.

Besides...my life is far from entertaining.  I might as well tune in to view what transpires in someone else's...say someone who huffs gasoline hourly or dresses like an adult baby (My Strange Addiction, anyone??).

Enter TLC and their four-part series provocatively titled My 600-lb Life.

It follows four morbidly obese patients over seven years as they undergo gastric bypass surgery and subsequent skin removal surgeries, as well as fend off enabling family members and the ever-present allure of unhealthy food.  Each patient tips the scales at at least 600 lbs., making the surgeries highly risky...yet, in some cases, highly necessary for better chances of long-term survival and improved quality of life.

Meet Melissa before...

...and after.

Her episode was, by far, the most captivating to me.  She began her journey at a whopping 650 lbs. and lost nearly 500 lbs. throughout the course of her treatment.  She battled cruel jokes, a miscarriage, and her husband's infidelity along the way, but her persistence, positivity, and perpetual honesty portrayed her as one of the most successful (and likeable) participants in the series.

If you want (and have the time), I'm including her story from YouTube, but even if you don't watch the whole thing (it's quite long), I do ask that you watch from 51:06 to 52:38, so that you can see one of the things that stuck out most to me.

The scene I'm referring to shows Melissa at one of her darker moments.  Following her second skin removal surgery, she experiences a setback.  She's a prisoner of her hospital bed with wounds that won't heal.  But what truly piqued my interest is why her wounds wouldn't heal.

It was how she was walking.

At this point in her story, she had dropped a considerable amount of numbers on the scale--at least 300 lbs., I believe.

Her weight had changed.  The fit of her clothing had changed.  The way she looked had changed.

But she was walking as though there had been no change.

Her husband and doctor mime the swinging-arm motion she refused to relinquish because she still felt like she was over 600 lbs.

Melissa had taken a number of "right steps"--entrusting herself to a qualified doctor, securing a support system, changing what she put into her body.

But she wasn't going to get and stay better until she committed to walking differently.

Drastic changes can leave our minds and our behaviors feeling like they have to play "catch up."  For instance, how many times have I had to render an "S" into a "C" when I've begun to automatically sign my maiden name since getting married?  Flubbed my new zip code?  Dialed an old phone number?

It's plain and simple, really: old habits die hard.   Our minds become, in a sense, programmed to do things one way, and having to make any sort of alteration can require intense concentration and effort to avoid relapsing into the former way of doing things.

But when it's a welcome change, shouldn't it be easier to break those habits?  I know it took me a LOT less time to get out of the studying habit once I graduated college and passed the NCLEX than it did to adjust to sleeping during the day when I began working night shift.

Melissa's considerable weight loss was a change that excited and thrilled her.  So why was it so hard for her to stop her old way of doing things, especially when it put her health at serious risk?

I could ask myself that same question--spiritually speaking.

Becoming a follower of Christ at the age of six was, by far, the most drastic change that has ever taken place in my life.  It changed everything about me--my purpose here, my goals, my future.  Like Melissa, I have taken some "right steps"--placing myself in the Hands of a capable Healer, surrounding myself with supportive believers and church families, changing what sorts of things I put into my mind.

But I don't always walk like I'm different.

He loved me...but I can be slow to love others.

He accepted me...but I am quick to judge.

He forgave me...but I hold steadfastly to a grudge.

He saved me...but I often live like He hasn't.

I gossip and lash out in anger.  I often don't think before I speak.  I join in unkind talk when I'm surrounded by it.  I'm the first to complain when things don't go as I had hoped.

I'm swinging my arms like I'm the same person I was before He got to me...and it's ruining who I could be.

One of the hardest parts of being a follower of Christ is having to learn to stop having one foot in both worlds.  We tend to be "Christians" in church and when it's convenient and admirable to be, but we may be no different when we're surrounded by the stuff we (supposedly) left behind to be His.

I baffle myself, though, because being His is a welcome change.  He's even outlined how to "walk" like I should:

"You took off your former way of life, the old man that is corrupted by deceitful desires;
you are being renewed in the spirit of your minds;
you put on the new man, the one created according to God's likeness in righteousness and purity of the truth...
...All bitterness, anger and wrath, insult and slander must be removed from you, along with all wickedness.
And be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving one another, just as God also forgave you in Christ." (Ephesians 4:22-24, 31-32)

A long time ago, the "weight" of my sin was removed by a wonderful Healer.  He has cared for me and given me everything I need to live an unencumbered life.  He's shown me how to move, how to be.

Now it's up to me to walk like that weight is gone.

Here we go.

One step at a time...

"Therefore, be imitators of God, as dearly loved children.  And walk in love, as the Messiah also loved us and gave Himself for us, a sacrificial and fragrant offering to God." ~ Ephesians 5:1-2

A Few More Never-Before-Seen Pics...

I started working on this video a while back to chronicle our journey through this pregnancy, and I wanted to share it with my blog "family."

It has some never-before-seen-pictures (belly shots and the like) that are very special to us, and I hope you'll enjoy watching it.

The song--"Starry Night" by Chris August--was one that I listened to time and time again during the worst part of my grief.  I especially love the line, "And I'm givin' it all to the only Son/ Who gave me hope when I had none..." because it feels so appropriate to our situation.  I even quoted this line when I announced my pregnancy on facebook--not that my "hope" stems from finally having a "successful pregnancy," but because He truly gave me hope when I had no strength left.  He has been so faithful to me throughout this journey, and so...

As the song goes...

"Let the praises ring
Because He's everything!"

Enjoy!

Maternity Pictures!

Just received our maternity pictures taken by the very talented Sara Rose with Sara E. Rose Photography!

I wanted to share them with all of you who have been following our story.

If you click on the link below and enter "chelsea" as the password, you should be able to pull up the slideshow (turn up your volume for some great music!).

Hope you enjoy!

**The pink rain boots I'm wearing in the last several pictures are in honor of the theme of "Bring the Rain" (song by MercyMe and blog by Angie Smith [check it out on my blog roll if you haven't already!])--after our losses, we are learning to welcome anything and everything that comes our way if it can bring glory to the One who gives and takes away.

http://saraerosephotography.com/viewing/?slideshowID=308263

It's Not What You Think!

Did you ever play the game "Telephone?"

Just in case you've never been a giggly preteen girl, here's the scoop on how to play:

(1) Gather a group and sit in a circle.

(2) One person will silently concoct a simple phrase (i.e. "I want some banana bread") and then whisper the phrase in the ear of the person to the left.

(3) The phrase is then whispered from person to person until it reaches the last member of the circle.  Only one repeat per person is allowed (via saying "Operator"), but after that, whatever you think you have heard, you pass on.

(4) The last person must announce the phrase out loud, which is usually a far cry from the original message.

My older sister taught me how to play, and I would get so tickled when she would tell me how distorted phrases would get in the rounds she played with her friends.  I loved it when she regaled me with the tale of how her original message of "Bring me some figgy pudding" somehow eventually translated into "Nebuchadnezzar is a butt."

Ahh, elementary school humor.

Sure, it can demonstrate how powerful and out-of-hand a mere piece of gossip can get, but what strikes a more resonant chord with me is how easily the truth gets lost.

The past couple of weeks, I've allowed little bumps and bristles to steer my mind off track.  Nothing truly dire or significant has transpired, but minor annoyances--surprising things about my new health insurance that will cost us more money when June arrives, a brand new phone that my clumsy mitts managed to destroy days after our warranty expired, a second back order for our crib that postponed its arrival for an additional three months (which would be a full month after Harlow is born)--have me feeling a bit chaotic.

Yesterday, I was tempted to throw a mild fit when another inconvenience was mounted onto the pile.  I paced back and forth around the living room, choking back the ugliness I wanted to vocalize in my momentary anger.  Instead, I opted to shift the blame toward the easiest Target.

God, can't you just cut me a little break here?

I desire perfection from my life's circumstances on a daily basis, and I'll admit I feel much like the cloud of dust that engulfs the Tasmanian Devil when things aren't "just so."

And when my circumstances make me feel out of control, I often accuse God of not being in control of my situation.

Chaos must mean He's lost the reins.  He's dropped me.  He must not be protecting me anymore.

Often, when my life feels out of sorts, it affects my ability to get a good night's rest.  I'll toss and turn and mull over the "what ifs" and "what do I do nows."  But every now and then, when I anticipate the arrival of a restless night, I'll hum the tune of one of my favorite songs from choir, "Thou, O Lord."

I cried unto the Lord with my voice,
And He heard me out of His holy hill.
I laid me down and slept and awaked.
For the Lord sustained,
The Lord sustained me.

One night recently as I pondered these words, I remembered that they come directly from Psalm 3.  I hoisted Dru's study Bible from the nightstand onto my lap and flipped vigorously to the brief passage.

Lord, how my foes increase!
There are many who attack me.
Many say about me,
"There is no help for him in God."

But You, Lord, are a shield around me,
my glory, and the One who lifts up my head.
I cry aloud to the Lord, 
and He answers me from His holy mountain.

I lie down and sleep;
I wake again because the Lord sustains me.
I am not afraid of the thousands of people
who have taken their stand against me on every side.

Rise up, Lord!
Save me, my God!
You strike all my enemies on the cheek;
You break the teeth of the wicked.
Salvation belongs to the Lord,
may Your blessing be on Your people.
(Psalm 3)

The part I've placed in bold (verses 5-6) had an interesting note beneath it:

"To lie down and sleep are poetic and tangible ways to describe a state of security.  Only a person who feels secure will be able to sleep undisturbed by troubling thoughts ... The psalmist was confident that he would wake again because it is Yahweh Himself who sustained him.  The psalmist's security was unrelated to his circumstances even though he was surrounded by enemies.  Confidence in God's protection does not depend on one's circumstances."  (Holman Christian Standard Bible Study Bible)

Oh, how quickly I tend to forget this vital piece of truth.

Four years ago, Steven Curtis Chapman and his family said good bye to one of their precious adopted daughters following a tragic car accident.  Because I went to school with his kids and heard the ambulances from my church the night it happened, I, like much of our community, was captivated by the story.  It made national news, seemingly reported on every blog from here to Timbuktu.

Many came out in droves to support the Chapman family.  Others were less than kind.

Knowing what devout Christians they are, many hurled violent, distasteful comments at this grieving family.

Where is your God now? they wrote.

Just like "Telephone's" circumstances can alter an original message, oh how often do we let our circumstances color what God has told us to be true:

I will never leave you or forsake you...

Even though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me...

I will not leave you as orphans.  I will come to you...

The second things get rough, we let our circumstances shrink God's sovereignty, His grace, His mercy, His protection.  We deem Him not strong enough, not good enough.

Do we really believe that?

If we don't, then we need to stop acting like we do.

In a recent sermon at our church, our pastor cited a quote from The Chronicles of Narnia--an allegorical series written by C.S. Lewis.

The quote concerned Aslan, the story's lion, mighty king of the magical world of Narnia, and a metaphor for Christ.

One character asks frighteningly about the nature of Aslan in the first book, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, questioning, "Is he safe?"

The response?  "'Safe?' said Mr. Beaver.  'Who said anything about safe?  Course he isn't safe!  But he's good.  He's the King, I tell you.'"

Did you get that?

God's goodness has nothing to do with our circumstances.

Zero.

What we seem to have set in place instead of the promise of God's unwavering goodness is that if we love and trust Him, things will always be easy.

He never said that.  He never promised that.  Not once.

At some point, we will all experience undesirable circumstances.


But if we trust Him, if we follow Him--we don't have to do it by ourselves.  He is with us.

That's the truth we overlook.

"Telephone" never could alter the fact that the original message was said.


And no matter how much we twist and distort it, bend it and tweak it--God's truth will remain the same.


But to whom do you choose to listen?  The fickle group?  Those fickle circumstances?

Or the One Who said it in the first place?

But Thou, O Lord, are a shield for me...

I will lie down.

I will sleep.

I will wake again.

For You sustain me.

Thou, O Lord, I choose you.

"The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."  ~Deuteronomy 31:8