CupCake Bites

I have recently started to enjoy making cake balls as a good way to use the remaining batter from cupcake orders... but I really suck at dipping them in chocolate and not making a huge mess. Then, my sister sent me a link to a blog that had a great idea: make the cake balls look like mini cupcakes! (Isn't is great what we find amusing?) Using candy molds that look like the outline of a peanut butter cup, this process is actually pretty simple and not nearly as messy as regular chocolate dipping (at least not in my house!)

For those who may be unaware, here's the cheater's way to make cake balls: using one box of cake mix, bake a cake following the directions. Crumble it into little pieces, then mix in one can of your favorite frosting. Form into little balls, chill for about two hours, then dip into chocolate coating. And yes, I call this the "cheater's way" because it involves using boxed mixes and fake frosting, both of which I try to avoid like the plague and the other artificial ingredients contained therein. (Yes, I am a bit snobby about that). To make homemade cake balls, it's the same concept but a little different because of the variety of cake and frosting textures (some cakes require more frosting, others less).

Now, for the cupcake bites, you fill the candy mold about 1/3 of the way with chocolate and pop the cake ball on top. Push it down enough so that the chocolate comes up to the sides/top of the mold. Let harden. Then, pop them out, turn them over, and dip them upside down into another type/color of chocolate, so the two chocolate colors meet. Hold upside down to let the excess drip off, and then flip back over and place on waxed paper to harden. You can also top it with sprinkles, chocolate drizzles, etc. for a little extra flair. Much less mess, and also cute:-) The one complaint I've gotten on these is that the cake part is smaller, so the ratio of cake to chocolate covering isn't as good as larger cake balls. But they still miraculously disappear whenever I put out a plate, so I'm taking that as a good sign.

Here are some pictures of my first few attempts:

Mint Chocolate Chip CupCake Bites

Mint Chocolate Chip CupCake Bites

Assorted Red Velvet & Carrot Cake CupCake Bites

Red Velvet CupCake Bites

Carrot Cake CupCake Bites

I make these whenever I'm making cupcakes and have leftover batter. I just bake it into a cake and freeze it until I'm ready to use it. It doesn't matter how much batter I have left over; even a little bit can make quite a few of these tasty bites! Enjoy:-)

Scar Tissue

For obvious reasons, my mind has been on things of the medical nature lately. One of the most fascinating things about the human body to me is its ability to scar. According to Wikipedia (an unreliable source for anything academic, but helpful when needing a quick description for blogging): "Scars are areas of fibrous tissue (fibrosis) that replace normal skin after injury. A scar results from the biological process of wound repair in the skin and other tissues of the body. Thus, scarring is a natural part of the healing process."

Physically, I have very few scars. I have a small one on my chin from falling off my bike; two thin lines on my arm from a blood clot test when I was five, and a small scar across my back from being tickled. D, however, has lots of scars (just ask him about the mark on his arm from his "barracuda attack"). The biggest one, of course, is on his abdomen. After his first three surgeries, he had a wide, ragged scar beginning at his Xiphoid process (thanks 11th grade anatomy class!) down to the button of his jeans. Half of his stomach was numb to the touch because this scar tissue lacked nerve endings.

Our bodies are amazing creations, able to heal in many ways. Some ways are more effective than others, but ultimately these healing processes exist for survival.

Whether your body is mapped with scars or you have been injury-free your entire life, there are other, sometimes less obvious, scars that can form. This is when we build up scar tissue in our spirit.

There are two causes for these types of scars. The first is because of an injury inflicted by others. Examples of this would be abuse, neglect, bullying, hurtful words, abandonment, loss, etc. The second cause is injury we inflict upon ourselves: addictions, low self-esteem, confinement, guilt, and so on. Interestingly, I think it is very common to inflict injuries upon ourselves in reaction to injuries inflicted upon us by others - a "healing" method that doesn't actually work and just goes to create more scar tissue. For example, someone might be inclined to withdraw from social interactions (confinement) because of hurtful words or bullying from others. Or someone might try to seek healing through addiction because of past abuse or loss. But let's be honest, and just acknowledge that we are all susceptible to any of these types of injuries, regardless of who we are, where we're from, how we were raised, etc.

So, an injury occurs. It's painful, and in an attempt to survive it, we build up scar tissue. This helps mask the pain, while also providing a way to continue on in daily life. We become a little numb around the heart, building up more and more scar tissue so that we won't feel any semblance of hurt.

During D's 4th and 5th surgeries this month, the surgeon had to do one major thing before he could even begin to attempt fixing the ailment: he had to remove all of the scar tissue from the previous abdominal operations. There was so much there that it was blocking the path to the problem, and ultimately to proper healing. So, normally, scar tissue is a good thing... but too much of it can actually cause more problems. Patients with myocardial infarction might have excess scar tissue build up around their hearts, which will ultimately lead to heart failure. This tissue, which is supposed to serve a good purpose, can end up causing more damage.

Sometimes, in order to heal, the scars must be removed.

As scar tissue forms in our (non-physical) hearts, it can end up blocking our hearts instead of protecting us. Scripture urges us to "guard our hearts" for they are "the wellspring of life" (Proverbs 4:23). Sometimes, scarring is the fastest way to heal after a spiritual or emotional injury. Go numb. Let the tissues start to heal. But don't stay that way.

I am discovering the ramifications of a closed-off heart as I type this. As I have previously written, I am not a good nurse/caretaker/nurturer. With D home from the hospital, I try to make sure that his physical needs are met (getting him water, helping him up if he needs it, etc.), but after two years of trying to cope with various injuries, ailments, and recoveries, my heart has hardened to protect itself. This means that I close myself off to him emotionally, because if I don't, I'll just be a weeping puddle on the floor every time I can't help him manage his pain, or I am not around when he needs me, etc. So instead I become stone. I come home from work, do some housework, and then make myself as emotionally unavailable as I possibly can. This might be thinly veiled by my sudden interest in getting the closets cleaned out or vacuuming the car, or with excuses of being too tired to talk. I don't tell him about my day, my concerns, my hopes, etc. I don't ask about his. I try to go numb, because it hurts me to see him hurt so much and not be able to do anything about it. But, in reality, I am only causing us both more pain by locking off my heart like this. I am inflicting injuries upon myself and upon him. We both begin to feel very lonely and disconnected. Small issues become big issues. Resentment starts to grow. I realize the selfishness of this all, but I feel like I need to be completely honest here.

Here's the thing: when Scripture says to "guard your heart," it does not mean "close your heart." It does not mean to stop caring, stop loving, stop sharing, stop growing. These are the purposes for which our hearts were created! We must be diligent to protect them so that they can continue to function in these capacities, for the sake of others as well as ourselves.

So, how do we break down this scar tissue that ends up blocking our hearts? The first thing is: stop the injury! If it is at all within your control, you must remove yourself from these causes of pain. For example, I struggle with body image at times, and for a while had to make a concentrated effort not to watch a particular tv show that had a very attractive, hardcore female character to whom I kept (very negatively) comparing myself. This is a small example, but other examples would be to get out of addiction, out of an abusive relationship, away from influences that cause you doubt your self-worth. Of course, there are some injuries we can't necessarily stop (for example, the loss of a loved one), but we can control how much scar tissue we let take over our hearts in the aftermath.

The second step is: forgive. I think regardless of the type of injury, there is always somebody that needs to be forgiven in order for us to heal. It might be another person (an abuser, a bully, etc.). Sometimes, it might be God that you need to forgive, especially if you are angry at Him for "allowing" these injuries to occur. Most often, I think it is ourselves that need our own forgiveness. I carry a lot of guilt about not being the best caretaker of D during this difficult time, and that just contributes to me closing off my heart even more. I need to ask him to forgive me for my selfishness, but I also need to forgive myself. Guilt just builds up more scars, more numbness, more walls. 

The truth is, only God can clean out the scar tissue we've let build up. And he can only do it if we let Him. An oft-quoted and very popular verse was one of the first ones I ever memorized: "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me" (Psalm 51:10). We are not meant to go through life in excruciating pain. But we are also not meant to go through life numb. God can clean all of the junk out of our hearts and make them clean again. It can be painful for a time, and might involve sacrifice, but I promise - and I say this even as I go through one of these painful "cleansing" times - it is always worth it.

Thorns

Working with kids, I tend to see a lot of minor (and a few major) injuries. And I have discovered that I have two very specific ways of dealing with minor injuries that require nothing more than a band-aid: either tell the child that we're going to have to "cut it off," or explain the reason for their pain. The first method was effective enough on me as a child - "Daddy, I hurt my finger!" "Oh no! It looks like we'll have to cut it off!" And that always worked for me. Either it convinced me not to make a big deal out of an injury for fear of losing a limb, or it just seemed so absurd that it made me laugh and realize my paper cut was not that big of a deal. This is the same tactic I use with my nephews, and it usually works pretty well. But I've learned that there are some children who are a bit more sensitive, and don't laugh when I jokingly try to eat their fingers or start looking for the scissors. This is when I try the second method: education.

Two weeks ago, while hiking with a group of young students, one got a few thorns tangled around her leg. She untangled herself and came away with just some surface scratches - no blood. But she kept telling me how much her leg hurt from the thorns. I tried to be sympathetic, but in truth that is really hard for me. Instead, I just told her why scratches on the surface of the skin tend to hurt more than if the thorns had gone further in. And then I kept on hiking, feeling a sense of accomplishment for educating her on the reason for her pain. But the rest of the hike, she kept mentioning those thorns. Now, there was nothing I could do to ease her pain, and there was no risk of infection or further injury. I was at a loss: I had told her the reason for her pain, why was she still feeling it? What else did she want?

There is one instance where you'd think that I learned my lesson that not all people respond well to my "get well" methods. It was several years ago, and again, I was hiking with a group of students. There was a little boy who got a thorn prick on his finger. (Okay, seriously, what is it with thorns?) He howled like it was the end of the world. I looked at it, and there was no blood; just a small white speck where the very tip of the thorn had gone into this finger. I told him he'd be okay and we kept hiking. And he kept howling. And holding his finger like it was going to fall off. Every time I stopped to point something out, he distracted the whole group with his "I'm in pain" breathing and moaning. Still, I did not give him a bandaid. That would involve filling out paperwork, and there wasn't even a drip of blood. Finally, I submitted and gave him a bandana to hold over the "wound." It was pink. He held it there for the next two hours of the hike, and then didn't want to give it back once the hike was over. It was now his safety blanket. In hindsight, I realized I could have spared myself and all the other students hours of moaning if I had just given the kid a darn band-aid. But to me, that was legitimizing his "injury," which was so minor to begin with.

This might be the point where one begins to realize that I have a horrible bed-side manner. And that is true. If the "cut it off" jokes or the "let me tell you why it hurts" methods don't work, I'm out of ideas. Nurturing does not come naturally to me.

Today marks Day 6 in the hospital after D's fourth major surgery since 2010. He is a model patient - he does everything the doctors and nurses recommend, he doesn't complain about the pain, and he is always appreciative of the care he receives (he is the nurses' favorite).

I, however, am not the model caregiver.

I am awesome for the first twenty-four hours or so. Incidentally, this coincides with the time it takes the anesthesia to wear off. I am attentive and cheerful and do everything he could possibly need. Ice chips? Got it. Back rub? Sure thing. How about a cold cloth, a funny story, or the six-minute pain pump reminders? I am all over it.

Then, after the first whole day and night at the hospital, something inside me starts to scream. I don't know if it is just the monotony of being in the same room, or the uncomfortable sleeping conditions, or just trying so hard to be Super Wife, but I just crash. I get cranky. I stop anticipating his needs and just begin to zone out.

It is usually at this point that I need to get outside and do something different. But when I am gone, I want to be back at the hospital taking care of my husband. So then I go back, and after about an hour I get antsy again. I watch repeated episodes of Say Yes to the Dress and check Facebook obsessively, wondering why no one else is updating their status every three seconds. My walks down the hallway get longer and longer. My Super Wife title is officially gone. By the end of day two. And there are still many more days to go.

If my lack of a nurturing instict was not obvious enough through the various thorn incidents, it has become increasingly evident with each successive hospital stay. I go in telling myself that this time will be different. I will be patient, helpful, and I will not cry. I will be alert and responsive to his every need. I will be encouraging and loving and tender. And every time, I set myself up for failure. I wonder, where is the magic switch that will turn me into a great nurse for the man I love? No matter how intentional I am about my attitude, I always fail.

I can't make "cut it off" jokes, for obvious reasons (mainly: they already did - well, cut it out, not off). And the doctors and nurses are already great at explaining the various reasons for the pain or discomfort. Sometimes, I try to re-emphasize these reasons ("The doctor said it was normal to feel nauseated because..." or "The pain in your side is from ..."), but that never helps. So instead I flail around, doing my best not to annoy him or spill anything on him (both of which happen a lot more often that one would hope). With children, I struggle with helping them feel better about the thorns; with D, I work hard not to become the thorn. Sometimes, especially after days in the hospital, after days of wanting to be able to fix it, all I have left in me is the ability to say, "Hey, here's a bandana. I hope that helps."

It never does.

That is when I am blessed by an awesome nursing staff and caring doctors. Because they have the skills that I lack; they are able to be attentive and caring and supportive. They know when to push him, when to encourage him, and when to let him rest. And that kind of support (especially when you're stuck with a wife like me), is one of the most valuable gifts someone can give - to both of us.

Hey Girlfriend

Let's be honest: women have a bad reputation. No, I don't mean what you're thinking. And this bad reputation is not something imposed by the perceptions of men or society-at-large; it is one given to women, by women. Women are "mean."

You only need to look as far as your tv screen or movie screen to see evidence of this (ex. the movie "Mean Girls"). In schools, at camps, on sports teams or in music lessons, and even at church, girls can be very nasty to each other. Even my Facebook news feed displays evidence of this, ranging from middle school aged friends all the way up to grandmothers. Thanks to social networking, we are now given an outlet to share our feelings about anyone, at anytime, in a very public forum... even if those feelings are negative, hurtful, and ultimately harmful to the other person. And most often, the victim of this nastiness is another girl/woman. We tear each other down in so many ways. It seems as though the "mean girl" stereotype is becoming more and more pervasive, and we're doing this to ourselves. (And ladies, I just have to share my humble opinion: no matter how much we try to re-appropriate or "take back" the "b" word and make it positive, it doesn't work. Even if we try to pass it off as a joke, or as a way to empower ourselves, we are ultimately contributing to the lexicon that continues to spread this "mean girl" trend. Sorry if you disagree, but I just had to put that out there.)

Now, I just have to say, I love women. The relationships I share with other women are some of the most valuable, fulfilling relationships in my life. So instead of focusing on this trend of nastiness, I thought I would share a little about why I feel female-to-female relationships are so important, and why I think we should all work just a little bit harder to get rid of the mean girls within us.

(Disclaimer: to any men who might be reading, or any women who feel like I am going to be "man-bashing," please know that is not the intention of this post. I also value the relationships I have with members of the opposite gender; just this post is not about that.)

Here is a little background on my personal female relationships and why it has been so important in my life. I was fortunate to grow up with two strong female role models intimately involved in my life: my mom and my sister. I continue to have strong relationships with both of them, and deeply value their wisdom and advice. Outside of my family history, I went to an all-girls' summer camp for four years, for two years in high school I swam on an all-girls' swim team, and I ultimately decided to attend a women's college. I used to have mainly guy friends, and never considered myself a "girl's girl," but that has changed over time. And all of these experiences combined have contributed to this incredibly strong emotion I have about the importance of positive woman-to-woman friendships and interactions. Here is a brief list of positive things that can come from these women-friendly situations:

*Supportive, nurturing environment. In college, I was free to be whomever I wanted to be without the fear of repercussion. Sure, there was some drama, but for the most part it was an environment where I could figure out exactly what type of woman I was supposed to be, without having to worry about teasing or negative influences. I was surrounded by women who wanted to support other women and build them up instead of tear them down, and this was exactly the encouragement I needed to grow and challenge myself.

*Accountability. While I was "free to be whomever I wanted to be," I was also held accountable for my actions as a woman.  If I say something offensive of insensitive, I have close female friends that will confront me about it. If I am behaving in a way that is inappropriate, I have women in my life who will gently step in and remind me of the correct course of action.

*Truthfulness. With my very close friends, I always know where I stand. Sure, there are some people I've meet and I can't quite figure out if they're being honest with me; but once I break down the walls and form a solid, strong relationship with another woman, I find that I never have to doubt her honesty or intentions.We can take off our masks and just be real. And that is truly freeing!

*Challenging. My girlfriends don't just let me rest on my laurels when I'm feeling good about myself. They encourage me to keep going, to see what else I can accomplish. In addition, I have friends from all different backgrounds, political spectrums, and social mores. The diverse group of women in my life challenge me to keep my mind open, to re-think opinions, and to continue seeking out the truth. (And the best part: even in the end, if I don't agree with them, we're still friends).

*Friendships. This one might seem obvious, but can I just say: I have been so blessed by the varying depths and elements of each of my unique friendships with women.  My girlfriends totally understand what is going when I cry over something silly, or when I am frustrated about a minor inconvenience. They understand days that I feel sluggish or cranky; they understand days when I am excited and energized. They know how to comfort me when I am grieving, they know how to cheer me up when I'm sad, and they know how to support me when all I need is a hug. (Seriously, women give the best hugs). And I hope I am able to do the same in return! Even friendships that aren't quite as deep still have that underlying connection: we are all women, and while our lives may look very different on the outside, and we may believe different things or like different things or act differently from each other, on some level we are connected. And when it comes down to bare bones, it's that level that makes all the difference.

*Wisdom. This is a big one for me. The wisdom that other women possess - especially older women - is usually tossed aside because us younger women are "more informed" in things nowadays. I've been contemplating this a lot since I've become pregnant. In thinking about the history of birth, it was a woman-centered event. The birth was attended to by a woman (midwife), and there were other women around to support the laboring mother. And besides just the birth event - there was a community of women to support a new mother through pregnancy, labor, and child-rearing. But now we live in a place where we've all grown separated. We are internally focused and private. We seek advice from complete strangers because we lack the wisdom of experience from generations of women who have been there before us. Yes, it "takes a whole village to raise a child," but think about the broader implications of a whole community/village of women who support each other through major life events! Think of all the wisdom that has been lost because we are too proud, busy, or "informed" to ask our mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and older friends for advice. These women have "been there, done that." Through celebrations and tragedies alike, we all share common experiences that bind us together. Where has all the wisdom gone? Good news: it's not missing; it's just a little harder to seek out because we are so unaccustomed to sharing it! So please, young women: I challenge you to seek out the wisdom of a female mentor or family member. I promise, you will be amazed at their stories and advice. And wizened women: please, share with us! We need direction and guidance, and you have a lot more wisdom than you give yourself credit for! Let's be a community of women, of all ages, who can share freely and openly and learn from each other. God created women with a gift of relationships for this very reason!

I could come up with many more reasons why female relationships are important, but at some point you'd stop reading. So I will conclude with a story (and yes, it's from camp):

There was a cabin full of girls who were being very nasty to each other. They were putting each other down, gossiping, teasing, etc. Finally, after a few days, the counselors had tried everything they knew to do to encourage positive relationships among the girls. One morning, they took the girls out to the archery range.  They gave the girls paper and allowed them to draw/write what was frustrating them (things about someone in the cabin, etc.). (Okay, I am fuzzy on the details of what they wrote or drew, but that's the general idea). Then, they tacked these pictures up on the archery targets and let the girls have at it. They got to "shoot out" their frustrations. After a few minutes of awkwardness, the girls really got into shooting at the representation of everything they didn't like about someone else, or everything that was frustrating them or hurting them or annoying them. After the pieces of paper were full of holes, and the girls were feeling pretty good about themselves, the counselors removed the paper from the targets. Underneath was an arrow-riddled pictured of Jesus.

The point of the exercise was not to let the girls get their frustrations out.  The point was this: when we put each other down and show hatred to each other, we are showing these things to God. 

See, every woman is created in the image of God. We can't love God and hate each other.

Women are wonderful and amazing (you should know; most likely you are one!). And yet we put ourselves in this cycle of self-destruction, because when we put down other women, I believe we are ultimately putting down ourselves. (And often, the reason we put down other women is because we are trying to feel better about ourselves and our insecurities... by making the others look bad). Let's stand up against this self-imposed attack on our identity. Being a woman is awesome. And it's made even better by the existence of positive, communal relationships with other women. That's no accident! But for these relationships to work, we must abolish the "mean girl" spirit within us. This task may look different for each of us, but I hope you'll join me in this challenge. A community of positive, encouraging relationships among women will stand through the tests of tragedies and triumph, and will ultimately prevail as one of the most valuable gifts you've ever let yourself receive.

So, what about you? What are some blessings that have come from your female relationships? Or, what are some solutions you've found to combat the "mean girl" paradigm?

Sweet Treats

Happy Valentine's Day! I am not a huge fan of the holiday and have no plans for it, but it is a fantastic excuse to bake some goodies! I made these this weekend:

Pink Champagne Cupcakes

Red Velvet Cupcakes

Assorted Cake Balls

The cupcakes are now available for sale at my brand new Etsy shop: www.etsy.com/shop/AwesomeCupcake. Other cupcakes and goodies will be listed for sale shortly (I hope!)

What are your thoughts on Valentine's Day? Do you celebrate it, and how so?

Size Matters?

I have had a real wake-up call lately. I have recently begun to realize that body image plays a much larger role in my self-esteem than I had originally thought. To be honest, I have always known that I can be very vain, but I never thought that my identity was so closely linked to my physical size and outward appearance.

I considered myself to be rather "enlightened" when it came to body image. I have always been aware of the way advertising and magazines can cause young girls and women to try to "measure up." In college, my roommate Rosanna and I created a "Wall of Shame" in the hall outside our door. This wall highlighted ways that both men and women were objectified in popular advertising, and included visual examples of things such as "body chopping" in addition to statistics about eating disorders and body image. One of my favorite books is a collection of essays from women of all different shapes and sizes about why they love their bodies the way that they are (despite some of the rude comments they get for it). I loved the Dove commercials that had women of all shapes and showed them as beautiful. For years, I ate up anything that showed all women as beautiful, regardless of weight, height, skin tone, etc. I avoided fashion magazines and even tv shows that featured super skinny girls in tight clothing. And still, every time I gained a few pounds, or spent much time with some incredibly fit girlfriend, I would cast myself into a cycle of self-critique and loathing (feeling fat - deciding to exercise more - failing to exercise more - feeling like a failure and hating myself for it - eating comfort food because I was sad - feeling fat, etc.) I don't know why it never occurred to me that all of this was a sign of some sort of deeper vanity that was keeping me trapped in this cycle. ("There is no lie so sly as the one we tell ourselves.")

To be upfront, I have always been in the "normal" range for weight. At times, I have been thinner or more muscular, and at times I have had a little extra weight. But I have never been unhealthy, and for the last ten years or so, have fluctuated up and down in the same eight pound weight range. Yet, for month in high school I stopped eating for a few weeks because the boy I was dating told me how he could feel his ex-girlfriend's hipbones (fortunately, my parents caught on and put a stop to that nonsense). In more recent history, in the six months leading up to my wedding I greatly reduced my food intake with the motivation that I was going to be wearing a backless dress and I didn't want any "back fat."

What brought this whole heart-issue to light is, of course, pregnancy. At first, I was greatly relieved that I would have an excuse to eat more (and wouldn't have to worry about trying to lose those three or four pounds I had gained recently.) Reading through a pregnancy book during my first trimester, I felt pride over the fact that I was not worried about weight gain while the author of the book shared her feelings about no longer fitting into her skinny jeans (meaning the jeans she wore when she felt skinny, not the new style of jeans that makes absolutely no sense to me.) I just knew I was going to feel positive about the way my body looked all through pregnancy. I was going to be more womanly, curvy, and glowing. After all, I am an enlightened woman who believes in natural, realistic beauty. It was going to be awesome.

Fast forward five months. I am now 22 weeks along and have gained about eight to ten pounds. My husband insists that I still don't really look pregnant, and I can still wear most of my normal clothes. And yet, just last weekend, I spent two hours laying on my bed, in a bathrobe, crying because I had nothing to wear. I felt fat and ugly and horrible. Sure, I might not look very pregnant right now, but I don't look thin, either. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I couldn't help it. My self-deception about my body image had finally boiled over to a breaking point, and all I could think about was Kelly Ripa. Yes, you read that correctly. Years and years ago, I saw an interview with Kelly Ripa when she was about to begin co-hosting with Regis. She was five months pregnant, and was wearing a tight red blouse and a leather mini skirt (or, at least, this is how my memory plays it). The interviewer (one of the late show guys) commented on how she didn't even look remotely pregnant. And now here I am, years later, lamenting the fact that I don't look like that.

I decided that day, crying about Kelly Ripa, that I needed to change. I had to fix something inside of me. I was wallowing in shallowness. Everything revolved around me and how I looked! I was internally whining, "Why am I not more beautiful?" (The irony here, of course, is that I do not put a lot of effort into my appearance; I don't wear make-up, most of my clothes have holes in them, and I am on no consistent exercise plan... But I still want to be beautiful. I just don't want to work for it.)

In the midst of this decision to change (and get up out of bed before my husband was convinced I'd gone completely insane) came a memory from camp (like most of the best memories are). I was working at Camp Piankatank in Virginia and there was a cabin full of middle school aged girls who would wake up early each morning and spend hours in front of the mirror putting on make-up and doing their hair. They would come to breakfast primped and pretty, but definitely not ready for an adventurous day at camp! The two counselors in the cabin wanted to do something to help the girls focus more on God and less on themselves. One night, after lights out, they went into the bathroom and taped giant trash bags over the mirrors. They then proceeded to write Bible verses about beauty and vanity on masking tape and adhere them to the covered up mirrors. When the girls woke up the next morning, they were irate. I think one or two of them even cried because they could not put on their make-up. We all debated over whether or not the move was too drastic. But, by the end of the week, there was a clear difference in the attitudes and behavior of each of those girls. They learned to take the focus off of themselves and put it on each other, and on God.

Remembering this, it hit me: there is no difference between me and those young girls. Of course, I don't spend hours in front of the mirror obsessing over every detail (as anyone who has ever seen me can attest to), but I do spend a tremendous amount of time thinking about how I look, or how other people look, or how I look compared to them. The issue at the center of this is the same; an inability to focus on God's value of me as His child, and instead focusing on the worldly value of my physical being. Some people do this by going overboard with new clothing and fancy hairstyles; I do it by constant comparisons and self ridicule. It's definitely a self-centered heart issue. At some point, I ceased focusing on God and instead turned all my attention inward. It's only when we stop looking at God that we have so much time and energy to spend criticizing ourselves or others.

I think one of the reasons this is resonating with me so strongly right now is because very soon, I will be responsible for raising a daughter. I don't want her to ever feel that insecurity about her image, yet I grew up with supportive, loving parents who worked hard to make me feel confident in my skin. I married a wonderful man who always builds me up and tells me how beautiful I am, even when I'm lounging around in sweatpants. Even with all this constant encouragement, I still found a way to feel down about myself. How am I supposed to teach my daughter about positive self image when she will be constantly bombarded with images and advertisements telling her that she is not beautiful enough? That the outward appearance is the key to your identity, instead of the heart? I'm completely overwhelmed by the thought.

This whole last week, while I have been working hard to avoid any self-pity crying parties in my bathrobe, two songs have been resonating in my head. I think they are both beautiful, and are both great reminders that our beauty and our value comes from God, and God alone. I know that no amount of trying is going to make me beautiful. When I said earlier I didn't want to put any effort into it, I want you to know that there is truth in that desire: God gives us value and beauty regardless of how we dress or how often we exercise; if we're a size 6 or 16 or 26. What a freeing thought! This knowledge has enabled me to relax about my growing abdomen, and embrace these (mostly) awesome changes.

Glorious

Beautiful Things

Just for fun, I just found the old file with all of the statistics posted on the "Wall of Shame." These are from 2003, so they might be a bit outdated.

75% of women think they are “too fat”

The estimated size of the weight loss industry in 1994 was $32,680 BILLION

90% of people with eating disorders are women

81% of 10 year old girls have dieted at least once

40% of girls aged 9 and 10 are trying to lose weight

Women only earn more money than men in two job categories: modeling and prostitution

90% of girls aged 3-11 have owned a Barbie doll, an obvious symbol of unrealistic body images

In 1992, women’s magazines contained 10.5 times as many ads related to dieting and weight loss than men’s magazines.

70% of girls want to look like a tv character.

31% of girls have changed their appearance to look like a tv character.

16% of girls have dieted to look like a tv character.

1,000 American women die of anorexia each year.

Eating disorders rank as the 3^rd most common illness among adolescent females in the United States.

63% of high school girls diet to lose weight.

35% of normal dieters progress to pathological dieting.
20-30% of pathological dieters progress to eating disorders.

In a recent study, 16% of underweight women consider themselves overweight, 58% thought their weight was “about right”, and 26% thought they were “slightly” underweight.

59% of average weight women consider themselves overweight.

*all facts taken from www.about-face.org*

So, there it is. I'm not the only who has struggled with body image, but in this case misery doesn't love company. So the question is: besides a lot of prayer, what's the best way to combat this issue in girls and women today? I would love to hear your thoughts!

Recipe: Mint Truffle Cups

Mint Chocolate Truffles (sorry for the bad lighting)

Originally, I was going to make some sort of custom frosted cupcake or dessert for the Superbowl. But I was going to a party hosted by a friend who also does a lot of baking, and I knew there would be plenty of food as well as Superbowl-themed desserts. So I decided not to bake anything... until about two hours before it was time to go over. I just got the "itch." I casually flipped through some recipe books that I never use (mainly because most of them involve using pre-made doughs or batters), and stumbled upon this recipe for Mint Truffle Cups. The picture looked amazing (of course), and at first glance it seemed I had all the ingredients. Suddenly, I just HAD to make this dessert, and I had to do it RIGHT NOW. 

As I worked through the very simple recipe, I found out that I did not, in fact, have all the ingredients I needed; I was missing whipping cream and it was 4:00 on Superbowl Sunday. There was no way I was going to the grocery store, and D was busy making hot sauce for wings so I couldn't even use my charm to convince him to go. So I substituted butter and milk for whipping cream, but other than that followed the recipe exactly:

CRUST:

1/2 cup powdered sugar

1/2 cup butter, softened

1 egg

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa

FILLING:

2/3 cup semisweet chocolate chips

1/2 cup whipping cream

1/4 teaspoon peppermint extract

TOPPING:

12 thin chocolate & green mints (i.e. Andes), unwrapped, coarsely chopped

1) In medium bowl, combine powdered sugar and butter; beat until light and fluffy. Add egg; blend well. Add flour and cocoa; mix well. Cover with plastic wrap; refrigerate 1-2 hours for easier handling. (Note: I lied when I said I followed the recipe exactly; I didn't have time to refrigerate the dough. It was tough to work with, but manageable if you don't mind your cups coming out kind of funny looking. Next time I'll try to plan ahead, but it doesn't seem to have been too much of a detriment at this point).

2) Heat oven to 325 degrees F. Divide dough into 24 equal pieces. Place 1 piece in each of 24 ungreased mini muffin cups; press in bottom and up sides of each cup, level with tops of cups.

3) Bake for 13-16 minutes or until set. Cool in pans on wire rack for 20 minutes. Remove from pans.

4) Meanwhile, in medium saucepan, combine all filling ingredients. Heat over low heat until chocolate is melted and smooth, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Cool 20 minutes or until filling thickens slightly (this took longer than 20 minutes for me; I don't know why, but I can never get ganache to "thicken" in the time most recipes list!)

5) Spoon about 2 teaspoons filling into each baked chocolate cup. Refrigerate at least 30 minutes or until filling is set. Sprinkle chopped mints on top of each cookie; press in lightly. Store in refrigerator. Remove from fridge about 30 minutes before serving.

These are pretty easy ways to satisfy any chocolate-mint urge you might be having (or to use up that trace amount of peppermint extract left lingering in the bottle, which has been my dilemma). Next time I make them, I might experiment more with the crust dough or try some variations on the filling, but for the most part these are a great & easy treat (and the recipe makes just enough for a small gathering, instead of a large crowd like most mini-muffin pan recipes!) Also, I am really happy that I did not have excess filling left; many recipes like this have a hard time balancing the cookie : filling ratio, and this was perfect.

Any thoughts for ways to improve them? Or similar mint chocolate recipes that you know of?