Nicole K. Twedt

Being Brave When Life Is Hard

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If You Only Knew: My Story (Part 3)

01.30.2018 by Nicole Kristin Twedt //

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.

Categories // Being Brave, Book Reviews, My Story Tags // Eating Disorders, Freedom, Jamie Ivey, WWU

Christmas 2012

02.23.2017 by Nicole Kristin Twedt //

 

Originally from December, 2012

Dear Family and Friends,

The English major in me savors the task of writing our family Christmas letter.  If it were a word, I would say my “dorkiness” shines bright, brighter even than the white twinkle lights strung upon our tree, when I admit to you that I think of this very letter for a good part of the year.  I ponder what is truly newsworthy, what is humorous or sacred, or at least good enough to write about.  Then I spend endless hours plotting and crafting it all together.   But “quiet, Mommy’s writing!” isn’t flying well around here these days with an almost 6-year-old, an almost 4-year-old and a 17-month-old in the house.  So I’m giving myself permission this year to skip out on one of my favorite of favorite Christmas traditions.  Please know that wonderful things have happened to us this year.  Everyone is healthy and well.  It’s just that we are busy living life and enjoying this special season and each other.  We are truly blessed by the Lord and His faithfulness.

Who am I kidding?  I left the above paragraph alone for all of 2 days.  But really, since I took time to explain why I didn’t write, I might as well add a few details and turn this little note into the real deal.  Lauren is napping and Steven is “resting” so now is as good as any.

After 8 years in our neighborhood, Greg and I finished our backyard and set up a play area for the kids.  Truthfully, I didn’t do a thing.  GREG and a small work crew finished the yard and GREG and Grandpa Dave put together the awesome play structure.  I kept Emily, Steven and Lauren out of the yard and kept the dirt out of the house.

Besides working on the yard, Greg went paint-balling for the very first time resulting in a new hobby.  For some reason darting through the woods, while being shot at by fast and furious balls of paint, is fun for my husband.  I really don’t get paint-balling, especially the camouflage part.  Or the pain factor.  But my husband loves it and I love him and his hobby provides an opportunity to bond with his brother, Jeff, and our nephew, Brad, as they shoot each other in the great outdoors.  Guys are so different from girls!

Speaking of girls, just after last Christmas our eldest, Emily, turned five.  My parents have a tradition in our family: When you turn five you get to go to Disneyland.  We like this tradition.  Mostly because Greg and I, along with Steven and Lauren, were able to tag along when it was Emily’s turn to go to The Happiest Place On Earth in May.  We take back everything we ever said about “Disney Freaks,” you know, those families who return to Disneyland time and time again and buy things like lanyards and pins and Disney apparel.  We freely admit that Disneyland really is the happiest place, and we may or may not have returned with lanyards, pins, t-shirts, stuffed animals and even a Disney family decal for the back of the van.  Emily prefers the hotel swimming pool to Disneyland any day.  The little fish taught herself to swim underwater and surprised us by sliding down the big kid water slide her first day out.

This has nothing to do with our trip but our resident kindergartner no longer cares for the nickname Mimi.  She also wants you to know that physical education is her favorite school subject.  This morning on the way to Mrs. Lee’s AM kindergarten, Emily pointed out her handsome PE teacher.  Let’s just say I can see why PE is a favorite.

We have another little one in school this year.  We were blessed to find a preschool for Steven that is literally 5 minutes from our home.  We are so thankful to God…and Tonya, the mom-friend from ballet who told me about the new preschool.  I love how God puts people in our life at just the right moment.  I also love that our son’s teacher totally gets him.  After all, she is the mother of 8-year-old twin boys.  The bad news is Steven still “turns into a dog.”  Now he even has names for his alter egos: Buster, Chocolate Chip Mint and Woof Woof.  “Where’s Woof Woof going today?” Steven constantly asks.   “I don’t know about Woof Woof but Steven is going to preschool” is my usual response.  Goodness child, this is getting old.  However, just last week I was encouraged by some of my girlfriends to embrace Steven’s inner dog and now we are using it to our advantage.  Heard around our home: “Be a good little doggy and pick up all of the dog bones (toys) in your dog house (room).”  Never in a million years did we think we’d parent like this.  But really, how else do we train a kid who thinks he’s a dog? Obedience school?  Clearly we need something.  Just yesterday I caught our naughty little puppy dog under his beloved train table, naked, sneaking the last of daddy’s Christmas sugar cookies.

I don’t mean to write more about Steven than the other two.  They are loved the same.  It’s just that at the present Steven’s antics provide the most writing material.

As for Lauren, our pretty pumpkin is extremely laid back as far as Twedt babies go.  She’s a joyful child and we can’t imagine life without her.  We wouldn’t want to.  Never having a sister, we are both touched by Emily and Lauren’s bond, especially since more than a few years separate them.  Some of our littlest girl’s favorite things include carrying random toys around the house in shopping bags and other plastic containers, singing E-I-E-I-O, and studying picture books upside down while sitting in her miniature rocking chair that was mine as a child.  Mostly, though, Lauren is fond of her morning and bedtime bottle, which I’m embarrassed to say we are still doing.

As for me, I stepped down from some of my favorite things, such as MOPS and the Thursday Morning Bible Study at church. This has nothing to do with not wanting to be part of them and everything to do with our new school schedules up north and not being able to be in two places at once.  But some of my dearest of dear friends are plowing through Beth Moore’s study of Daniel with me and I joined a book club over the summer. Once again my inner nerd shines bright.  I’m stinking excited about my book club, something I always wanted to do.  For years I’ve been telling myself that I’d join in a heartbeat if I ever had to drop something from my busy schedule.  Another new thing is that after nearly 6 years away from the classroom I’m back!  Well, sort of…once a week I get to help in Emily’s kindergarten.  I’ve only volunteered 4 or 5 times, but I’m already hooked.  I simply come alive when teaching, or in this case, just helping out at school.  I liken myself to Eric Liddell from Chariots of Fire.  I feel His pleasure knowing I’m doing what He created me for.

So much for not writing a family Christmas letter this year.  I just couldn’t help myself.  The melancholy introvert in me just loves to write.  I always have.  The one thing I struggle with, however, dating back even to WWU, is that I have a tendency to fall short in the end of a paper and forget to leave the reader hanging on my words.  My professors searched for the punch but it was never there.  After spending every ounce of all that was in me on the body of an essay, short story or research paper I was DONE.  Things are different now.  I’m ending abruptly this time around because Lauren’s cries have announced the end of her nap, Steven is standing in his doorway asking “How many more minutes?” and Emily wants her computer time.  So Merry Christmas to all!  May God bless you and keep you.  May His face shine radiant upon you and may you know how very much He loves you this Christmas season and always.

Love,

Greg, Nicole, Emily, Steven and Lauren Twedt

Categories // Christmas Letters, Family, Writing Tags // Babies, Emily, Kindergarten, Lauren, Preschool, Steven, teaching, WWU

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