No Frowning in the Mirror

We were driving up the main road to campus to see our college girl when I saw a sign in front of a restaurant that had me doing a double take just to confirm that my eyes did not deceive me.

I was driving so I wasn’t able to take a picture.  But trust me on this, you can’t make this stuff up.  The sign said,

“Our Salads Will Make You Skinny”


Are you kidding me?

This makes me angry on so many levels.

First, is this what our society is coming to?

Never mind, don’t answer that.  I know that it is.  The skinnier the better, right?  Frankly, that really ticks me off.

Second, what about “our salads will make you healthy”?  Wouldn’t that be a better selling point?  A better thing to focus on?  Health?

Right, I know.  Skinny is equated with healthy.  But that’s not always the case.

Skinny does NOT equal healthy.

Third, this sign is less than a mile from the all women’s college campus where my daughter lives and is attending school.

Yeah, this restaurant knows exactly what it’s doing and who its market is.

Wrong.  On.  So. Many. Levels.

Maybe I’ve been watching too many law shows, but as my blood started boiling, I thought about what lawsuits I could throw at them and what I’d say to them in court.  False advertising, emotional distress, child endangerment (some of those young women aren’t quite 18), and just plain out indecency.

Signs like this, businesses like this, and the people who run them and choose to advertise this way are playing on our insecurities. In that one moment that business owner is saying, “Hey, you, the one driving over there…..yeah, you.  You are not perfect or beautiful or well-proportioned.  Your body is not all that it can be.  But hey, if you eat our salads, you will become skinny, and since this is something everyone wants to be, you should come here and eat our salads.  And then the world will be yours.”

I’m calling them out on this.  This is nothing but blowing hot air.  No, it’s worse than that.  It’s made up of the stuff I used to walk around and avoid stepping in when I was following my Daddy through the cow pasture.

And I say No More.

It is time that we all stand up and say that there is no perfect body shape or size and turn away from those who would have us believe otherwise.  My friend Lisa who writes over at My So Called Glamorous Life asked a great question: “How many people make money off of our insecurities?”


So to my daughter and her friends:  You are beautiful.  You are young and you are learning, and there is so much to life that is hard.  Don’t make looking in the mirror a part of the hard stuff.  Love who is there.  If you feel healthy, that is wonderful.  Keep on keeping on.  But if you don’t feel healthy, do something about that.  Find a friend to join you and make wise choices–in all areas of your life, including eating and moving your body and keeping good company.  If you feel like eating a salad, go for it.  But please don’t do it because of a promise to “make you skinny.”  Just.  No.  Salads can’t do that.  At least not alone.  And sometimes not at all.  Look in your mirror.  Smile.  That woman in front of you is beautiful and deserves to be smiled at and loved.  So love her, and go do you.  As a friend once told me, ‘You are the best you there is.’  A salad’s not going to make you more awesome.  Loving yourself and then those around you–now that can fine tune and amplify all that is wonderful about you.  

Ain’t nobody got time for false advertising and empty promises.  Or frowning in the mirror.  Life’s too short for all of that.

Love to all.


The Greatness in the Small Things

Today a realization hit me, and I knew an apology was in order.

Days like this when my shortcomings walk up, introduce themselves, and demand my attention–they can be hard.  I don’t like looking in that mirror.  I might just consider taking seven years of bad luck if breaking it were possible.

A couple of days ago I was working on a project, and in the middle of it, it just felt so right.  I was mentally high-fiving myself at how well it was going, and when I walked away after I was finished I think I actually fist pumped.

Yeah.  It went that well.  I had not expected that at all.

Almost immediately after I left and was headed to my next stop, my mind started jumping ahead.  This.  This is what I was meant to do.  The way I felt in the middle of the project was a sign that this was my thing.  I began to envision doing this same type project only on a larger scale, more folks, more input, and so on.

Ummm, hold up.

Today it hit me.   Perhaps the reason it went so well and the reason it felt so right was that it was right.  Just like it was.  On that scale, in that moment.  Perhaps that is what I was called to do.  Not the same thing, just bigger and better.  But that thing just as I did it then.

Oh my.  That hurt.

Mama and Daddy encouraged us to dream.  They both told us numerous times over the years we could be and do anything we set our minds to.  They believed in each one of us.  I never doubted what I was able to do because they were there–that was it, they were there as I made choices and tried new things.  I could always come back to them and process what I had experienced.  And I could listen to their wisdom and make further plans from that.  Continue to dream, continue to figure out what my life’s vocation is, how my passions and talents and resources could help meet the world’s needs, as Frederick Buechner would say.

Only somewhere along the way I am afraid I fell into the Tim the Toolman Taylor mindset of “more power, more power” and “bigger is better.”  Remember the show “Home Improvement” starring Tim Allen?  If you could do it with a little saw, a bigger one was always better.  If you could build a small storage building, why not a huge one with all the amenities of home?  Yeah, that’s the guy.  It usually got him into trouble, that mindset did.  *duly noted*

There’s nothing wrong with dreaming big.  I have heard my Mama say, “Don’t underestimate the great things you can do.”

But I forgot about the other message, the one that Mama and Daddy shouted quietly with their actions:


They lived that.  The things they did to help others, to encourage, to empower, to share, to help along–they did them quietly and faithfully and sometimes, without anyone else knowing.  So it was something they lived by, doing great things in everything they did; it didn’t have to be on a grand scale, and it definitely wasn’t to impress.  It was from their hearts.  That’s what made it great.  But like so many of the best things in life, it was so quiet and beautiful, you could miss it if you weren’t looking for it.

Greatness in the small things I do.  I don’t have to be doing the things that I’m doing in a grandiose way to make them worthwhile.  Perhaps that is what I was supposed to learn two days ago.

Not that this is what I should be doing one day. 

But instead that this is what I should be doing today. 

And let that be more than good enough.  Let that be great.

Daddy used to say, “When you compare, you lose.”  Oh how many times I have repeated that to myself or to my oldest!  It comes up whenever we start looking through the lens of comparing ourselves to another–how they live, what they do, what they have… and you lose, because that’s not what we are here for.  But you know what I found out today?  When you compare where you are right now to where you dream of being one day, you lose too.  By comparing what I have right now to where I want to be one day, I am robbing today of its joy and its value.

My Mama taught me that stealing is wrong.  I don’t want to rob anyone, not even myself.  None of us can get today and this moment and this, this greatness we are in the midst of sharing, even if it’s in a small way–no one can get this back again.  Why make it meaningless by thinking it’s not enough?

Oh, there’s that word again.

Okay, so that apology.  I called and shared how excited I was with my Aunt after I was done.  She listened as she always does, to my dreaming and planning and thinking out loud of where I was headed with this.  I think I will call her Aunt SoFullofGrace, because she never said a word that wasn’t encouraging.  She let me figure this out on my own.  But I do apologize to her, because I was wrong.  And I was raised better.  I  apologize to my parents too, because they all taught me better–

It’s not so much what you do as it is how you do it.

I owe one more apology.  To life and the universe.  I didn’t let the light and the good that came from those moments the other day shine.  I took away from that by not letting it be enough.  I gave it my best and it was high-fiving, fist pumping good, but I didn’t let that be.  I didn’t let the greatness that was be enough.  And for that I am sorry.

I came across this today.  Those of you who have visited lately might notice that I have been on a bit of a Mary Oliver kick lately.  When I find a writer I enjoy, I tend to read as much as I can by them; it’s what our people do.  And so today, I found this gem.  It is from Part 1 of her poem, River Clarion.

I don’t know who God is exactly.

But I’ll tell you this.

I was sitting in the river named Clarion, on a water splashed stone and all afternoon I listened to the voices of the river talking….

And slowly, very slowly, it became clear to me what they were saying.

Said the river I am part of holiness.

And I too, said the stone.

And I too, whispered the moss beneath the water.

I’d been to the river before, a few times.

Don’t blame the river that nothing happened quickly.

You don’t hear such voices in an hour or a day.

You don’t hear them at all if selfhood has stuffed your ears.

And it’s difficult to hear anything anyway, through all the traffic, the ambition.

–Mary Oliver, River Clarion, Part 1

As the days grow shorter and the light grows dim, I want to be a part of what is sacred and light-bearing in the world.  I want to be a part of the holiness with the river and the stones and the moss beneath the water.  It’s been too long, my head filled with the busyness of being in the traffic, contributing to the traffic, and yes, filled with ambition.  It is time to sit and listen to the holiness around me and unstuff my ears.  And let this moment and all the greatness in the small things be enough.