Nicole K. Twedt

Being Brave When Life Is Hard

I Like Big Books And I Cannot Lie

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Hello Lovelies! It’s been quiet here at this little spot on the web. I’m not sorry about it. March madness is a real thing. Our days were filled to the brim with Girl Scout Cookie deliveries, site sales and the start of volleyball season and Rubik’s Cube club. Yes, there’s a club at the elementary school devoted to Rubik’s Cube enthusiasts like my son.

Speaking of Girl Scouts, I’m sad to say that I was a failure as a scout. Seriously, I was a failure. I caved and quit on the spot at the very thought of another cookie season soon after my first year as a cadet when I was a sixth grader at Sunset Elementary School. I also happen to be a failure as a parent of Girl Scouts. Yep that is correct, a real failure. I ditched the badge magic, my former saving grace that kinda-sorta turns a badge into a sticker and resorted to hot-gluing the badges on the girls’ vests. At Word Thinking Day (a Girl Scout event at the end of February), I noticed a cute little brownie with her patches pinned to her chocolate-colored vest with safety pins. I wanted to find her mother and throw my arms around her.

The girls at Safeway. The kind folks at Safeway allowed us to set up shop inside. I’m more of a Fred Meyer and Central Market kinda gal, but my heart now belongs to Safeway.

Back to March Madness, or my version of it: I’ve also been busy with more than a few launch teams and one very important offline project. I’m not quite ready to talk about this special project. But I promise, it will be worth the wait. So much so that the very thought of this little project fills me with great joy and tremendous hope. It’s also why I’ve written next to nothing since mid-February. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be part of this project. I simply cannot wait to spill the beans.

I originally started this post as a Weekend Roundup sometime around St. Patrick’s Day. My plan was to briefly talk about the book launch teams instead of linking to work by some of my friends at Hope*Writers. Because of my other project, I’m not going to give you a prolonged review of each book. Nope. What I’m going to do is take the easy way out. I’m going to simply link to the books, tell you to go buy the books and leave it at that.

Over the last several weeks, I’ve been participating in a new Bible study by Dorina Lazo Gilmore called Flourishing Together.  I actually bought Glory Chasers, Dorina’s first Bible study, with the intention of plowing through it with two dear friends but our schedules never meshed. I almost didn’t buy this one since I never finished the first. I am so glad I changed my mind. It’s nothing short of a miracle (and the Holy Spirit at his finest) when a study I am part of speaks so perfectly to where I am currently at and where I’m headed. Flourishing Together is basically about flourishing when life feels heavy. It is about practicing stillness and knowing God is God.  It’s about turning to the Bible to be deeply routed in Jesus to truly  flourish during seasons of adversity. I can’t recommend this study enough. Flourishing Together is a six week study, stretched out to twelve weeks if you join the facebook group for live teaching by Dorina to go along with the study. Each week starts with an essay, followed by six days of thoughtful and Bible-centered homework. You can choose to purchase a color or B&W edition. I own the B&W, which is lovely. I imagine the color edition is even lovelier. Highly recommend. It’s changed my life.

Tales of Buttercup Grove is a delightful series by author WendyDunham, illustrated by Michal Sparks. I only have my hands on the first two books of the series, A Windy Spring Day and Sunflower Summer, which is my personal favorite. The little books have been such fun to share with The Tiniest Tiny. My youngest struggles a bit with reading so we are reading these Beginner Reader friendship stories together. A bonus is the delightful watercolor illustrations, as well as the Bible verses at the end of each book. Once you order the books you will have access to coloring pages from the book.

The next launch team was for Questions & Answers For Kids: A Three-Year Journal For Kids by Scott Bowen. This has been such a fun book for the entire family. Each day has a question for each child to answer. We read the questions each night over dinner. You will find space on each page to record your child or children’s response for three years. It’s going to be fun (and interesting) to compare their answers as the years go by. Then, at the bottom of the page is a fun illustration and a Bible verse the ties into the question.

This is what it looks like inside. At least my kids are honest.

The final book I’m going to talk about is You Can Stay Home With Your Kids!: 100 Tips, Tricks, and Ways To Make It Work on A Budget by Erin Odom.  How I wish I had a copy of this book when my three were little, back when I seriously wondered how we could ever pay for three kids to go to preschool (that’s six years of preschool tuition!). Author Erin Odom is never bossy. She isn’t saying that staying home with your kids is the only way. That would be silly. However, if you are a mom who would love to stay home but don’t know if it is a real possibility, give this book a shot. Erin will gently encourage you to look at your home and expenses in a slightly different and creative way that could very well make all the difference in the world and allow you to stay home with your kids. I loved the practical moneysaving tips found within the pages of this book, from tips on how to inexpensively cook healthy meals, to planning a vacation that won’t break the bank (Vacation? What’s a vacation?), to tips on purchasing a home and just about everything in between. I highly recommend this book for any mom who wonders if staying home with her kids could actually happen. But really, I can’t think of a family that wouldn’t benefit from Erin’s wisdom wether or not the mom is able to stay home or works outside of the home. It’s all good.

I almost forgot! Speaking of book launch teams, a while back I told you about Jamie Ivey’s new book, If You Only Knew: My Unlikely, Unavoidable Story Of Becoming Free. Jamie’s book happens to be the #1 bestseller in Christian theology and life (or something like that) on Amazon. My friend Melinda and I had the chance to meet Jamie back in February at the Seattle book tour! How cool is that?!! We also got to meet Emily Lex of Jones Design Company. Both women are the real deal. By the way, I talked about Jamie’s book here, here, and here, as I told my own story of becoming free.

That’s all for now. You can find all of the books mentioned above on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. None of the links are affiliate links. There’s nothing in it for me if you buy the book. Erin’s book is the only one yet to launch. If you order before April 10 she is throwing in all kinds of goodies as an incentive to pre-order your copy. Have a lovely Monday, friends. I hope to write more soon. But don’t hold your breath because it’s just one of those fun-filled yet busy seasons.  Know that you are loved and missed. And know that I can’t wait to tell you about my latest project! The suspense is killing me!

If You Only Knew: My Story (Part 3)

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I spent quite a bit of time over the last week gushing over Jamie Ivey’s memoir, If You Only Knew: My Unlikely, Unavoidable Story of Becoming Free. (Today is release day!) Also, I’ve been telling the story of how I experienced freedom from an eating disorder in college. At the end of Part 2, I wasn’t exactly what you’d call ready to give it to Jesus. But I was close. The anthem of freedom was rising in me.

If you’re popping in for the first time, here are the links to Part 1 and Part 2. I’ll give you a moment to play catch up.

Photo by Samuel Scrimshaw on Unsplash

Part 3

Lucky for me, the Lord is patient. He kept giving me chances to give him my fear of gaining weight. One of the opportunities came in the form of an invitation from my roommate Monika’s cousin, Kristin. At the time, Monika and I were students in the post-baccalaureate teaching program at Western Washington University in Bellingham. Kristin invited Monika to visit her church, and Monika invited me.

Kristin’s church was interesting. It was nothing like the historic church I attended on Garden Street. A small group of people met in a rented space near James Street. The pastor was a woman, which was an awesome yet new experience. The biggest difference, however, was that the service ended with an altar call, or the chance to respond to the message or to be prayed for. Stranger still, I had a strong desire to go to the front to be prayed for. Well, kind of.

God, I silently prayed, I want to do this but I can’t. Help me say yes to you.

At that moment, the worship team switched to a song by Darrell Evans called “Trading My Sorrows.” The chorus went like this: “Yes Lord, yes Lord, yes, yes, Lord.” God is hilarious.

My bargaining with God continued. I want to be prayed for, but I can’t. If you want me to do it, you’ll have to send someone to ask if I’d like to be prayed for.

God is so great. He knew my every thought, he knew my fear. He knew what needed to happen in my heart before I could follow him. I say this because the very next moment Kristin turned to me and asked, “Would you like to go up to be prayed for?”

I walked to the front of the church to the altar area where people were being prayed for by the pastor. Many fell over by God’s power. As someone from a less demonstrative faith tradition, I was skeptical of this “slain in the spirit business.” It reminded me too much of Steve Martin’s performance as a fraudulent faith healer in the 1990s movie Leap of Faith.

There’s no way I’m going to be knocked over, I told myself.

It was my turn. I was vague about my prayer needs. I wasn’t even thinking of anorexia, or whatever I had. All I wanted was for God to take away my hearing loss. I asked the pastor for healing in general. And you guessed it, I fell backward, as slain in the spirit they come. I don’t understand what happened, even now. All I know is that I was lying down and I felt this warmth, this energy or light, this healing, spread through my entire body like electricity, only it didn’t hurt. Every area the light reached brought cleansing, healing and life to my weary body.

I could have stayed on the floor forever, except I had to visit the ladies room. Of course I had to go to the bathroom at a time like this. So, I got up, and raced to the bathroom. I had to go that bad. I also wanted to lock myself in a stall and turn off my hearing aids. I wondered if I could hear without them.

I still couldn’t hear. Nothing had changed.

What a letdown! So much for trying to follow Jesus, I thought, bitterly, as I lathered my hands with soap and warm water from the faucet. At that moment, I happened to glance into the bathroom mirror. What I saw took my breath away. The young woman looking back at me was radiant. For the first time since I was a pigtailed kindergartner at the back table with the school nurse, I saw myself as God saw me: healthy, whole and beautiful. And the voice? Well, the voice was gone; it has never, ever returned.

I’m not going to lie, despite this amazing encounter with Jesus on the carpet of a rented church space in Bellingham, I still struggled. I still messed up. I wouldn’t eat unless my stomach growled, even if it hadn’t growled in eight hours. But I didn’t feel as cold or shaky as I navigated my way through WWU’s Red Square.

Another victory happened a few months later. It’s remarkable that I was with Monika again. My roommate and I didn’t usually go to church together. On this particular Sunday, I stood in the parking lot with Monika, just outside of her Lutheran church after service. Sunlight warmed my face and a gentle breeze stirred my soul. I wanted to shout for joy. For the first time in nearly four years, I ate the wafer and sipped the wine during communion without worrying about my stomach growling first.

Years later, when I was  a young mom, I read the book Search For Significance by Robert S. McGee as part of a Bible study facilitated by my friend Wendy. Suddenly the verses I discovered in college fell from my head and landed smack into my heart as I learned to replace the enemy’s lies about my body and replace them with truth. I relearned how to think and act and process the reality that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, that I am worthy and fully loved by Jesus, created to love him and be loved by him. I finally understood that only Jesus could satisfy me, and I could trust him with every area of my life.

I’ll be forty in June. I struggle from time to time with body image. What woman doesn’t? Yet I am thankful for my healthy body that birthed three children. You couldn’t pay me to starve myself. It’s no longer part of my story. Nothing is worth more than the cost of being free, not even a little black dress from Gap.

What about you? Is there a small or not-so-small thing you are holding onto? Whatever it is, dear friend, consider giving it to Jesus. He is patient, kind and compassionate. Nothing is too big for him, nothing. He doesn’t expect you to have your act together before you come to him. He is here, ready for you to come as you are. Even if deep down you don’t want to change. For years my prayer was for God to give me the desire to even want to change. If this is you, do you have someone to share your story with? If not, may I pray for you? Please leave a message in the comment section or send me an email. My email address is under the contact section. (It’s not a link. You’ll have to copy and paste because this blog is a work in progress, just like me.) I’m not a trained professional, as you know. But I consider it a privilege to pray for you.

If You Only Knew: My Story (Part 2)

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Over the weekend I announced that Jamie Ivey wrote a memoir, If You Only Knew: My Unlikely, Unavoidable Story of Becoming Free. Her book releases on January 30. You can preorder it here. In honor of Jamie’s baby, I shared the beginning of my own story to freedom. If you missed the first installment, you can find it here.

Part 2

When spring quarter came to an end during my sophomore year of college, I’d lost a significant amount of weight on top of my original weight loss. I also lost my period. And strands of blonde hair, which fell out in clumps when I ran my fingers through it. In addition, I lost the ability to regulate my body temperature; and when I woke each morning my legs were covered in mysterious bruises. (Bony knees were the culprit.) One of the few friends I had left started calling me Twiggy, and rightly so. I was between a size 2 and size 4, but I slipped perfectly into a size 1 Audrey Hepburn-style dress that I proudly bought from Gap. I’m sure it looked more like a potato sack thrown over skinny legs and an emaciated body. But I was proud of the image reflecting back at me from the mirror on my bedroom door.

It’s important to understand that it wasn’t about losing weight at this point. I liked the way I looked. My fear was that I wouldn’t be able to maintain my new figure. I mean, I could go up a size if I ate a standard portion. What would happen if I stopped weighing myself? It was a matter of time, I reasoned, before my new jeans would get tight. What if Jesus asked me to eat a whole sandwich? Was he worth it? I prayed earnestly for the Holy Spirit to give me the desire to ask God for help.

I truly wondered if Jesus could love and accept a girl who held out on him. He gave his life for me. I hated my life. I lived to eat my daily 6 ounce carton of yogurt with granola or an open-faced peanut butter sandwich; and all I wanted to do was sleep. I dreamed of going to sleep and not waking up. I wanted to be done with the pain and emptiness caused by my secret anxiety of gaining weight. I was racked with guilt for wasting my life. Who did I think I was? My dad lost the life he loved to cancer a few years back. But still, a voice inside said I would get really fat and disappoint God and everyone else if I let my guard down, even for a moment. Still, it was becoming difficult to resist the anthem of freedom rising in me.

You see, I had dreams, dreams of being set free. God gave me the sweetest gift.  At night I had vivid dreams in which I was able to cast all hindrance aside as I leapt over fallen trees in rain forests and sprinted through the African savanna amongst mighty cats and the striped zebra, full of energy, full of life. During my waking hours, as cliché as it sounds, he gave me a picture of a dark and ragged tunnel with light bursting through the far end of it. I held on to this image of hope as if my life depended on it.

I made the decision to follow Jesus Christ the summer after my seventeenth birthday at a Young Life camp called Malibu in beautiful British Colombia, Canada. So you see, Jesus wasn’t about to let me go. In fact, he was going to wait patiently for me to get over myself and follow him with my whole heart, all the while loving me with a wild and unending love. I was (and am) a child of God, and my loving father desired me to be free from the chains that bound me.

I began spending time reading the Bible and writing in a prayer journal, pouring out my heart and my hurts to Jesus. In turn, the Lord led me to discover verses from the Bible on fear that became my lifeline. Do you know how many times the Bible tells us “Do not fear. I am with you?” I’m too lazy to google it, so I really can’t say, but the idea of putting our trust in God instead of living in fear is a recurring theme throughout both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible. A gem hidden in Matthew 6: “[Do] not worry about everyday life…Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing?” Was this real? I mean, how did Jesus know this was my struggle?

As far as the voice, the voice that told me I was fat and unworthy, I began countering the attack by whispering “No, I will not listen to you. You are a liar. I will only listen to the Voice of Truth.”

But I wasn’t ready to fully relinquish the reins of control over food and my body, though I knew in my heart that Jesus would soon ask me to choose between him and my current ways.

I knew I would have to choose him because this was killing me. 

To be continued.

Part 3