My ten favorite embarassing moments...

photo from parentsconnect.com

Stuff happens. This means that we're all riding in the same lifeboat of unexpected-ness, which is bound to include some embarrassing moments that we'd love to forget!

That got me to thinking...

What if I shared some of my embarrassing moments - with you? All of us accidently walk into the wrong public restroom, so that's no big deal. What about some of those "Oh snap!" moments that have tinted my brown skin to a shade of bright red? I asked myself if I still hold my head up high if you knew about my awkward or self-conscious moments? I think so. I hope so.

So, here's the deal: I'm going to share with you my ten favorite embarrassing moments (is there an oxymoron in that statement?) - and you can laugh. It's okay. I'll pretend not to be paranoid and think you aren't laughing about me behind my back.

Ten of Barb's Favorite Embarrassing Moments:

10. Today, I walked into the men's restroom at Panera. Men's restrooms are really ugly (and that weird little thing in the urinal makes them smell weird).
9. One night at work while doing weekend announcements,  I wore two different shoes on stage in front of a large crowd. That was fun.
8. Yesterday, I wore a long cotton skirt. It was nuclear hot outside and I had a meeting outside at a local coffee shop. When I stood up from my metal chair, there was a GIGANTIC sweaty spot on the back of the skirt. I gathered that skirt up like the gals on "Little House on the Prairie" and hustled to my car before anyone could notice.
7.  Three weeks ago, I ate an entire pecan pie. Then I told 7,000 people about it. After I rapped.
6. While giving a weekend message years ago, the safety pin reinforcing the front of my shirt (that was supposed to make me feel more confident while speaking) popped up into view while I was giving a message.
5. I have a nose piercing. Good friends always let me know when I have a metal booger.
4.  I am certain I have passed gas at a less-than-convenient time. Probably more than once. So have you.
3. I will admit that once or twice, I've gotten stuck in a department store dressing room in a dress that would slide all the way up, but not slide all the way back down. 
2. On a hot July day years ago, I strutted into a building wearing a full-length fabulous wig and super-star sunglasses. Hours later, the security guard discovered me without the wig on after I had taken it off because my head was itchy! Dude couldn't figure out why my hair was hanging on the door knob and not my head.
1. Many years ago, I suffered a jaw-dropping wardrobe malfunction in front of a best-selling Christian author. He was very gracious and never let on that - well...Let's just say that I am very careful about button-down shirts and when I wear them...

Soooooooo...those are my embarrassing moments.

If you've got an embarrassing moment (that we can print AND that my kids can read) that tops mine, tell me about it! Leave your embarrassing moment in the "comments" section or post it on Facebook.

Let's laugh at each other - and have fun doing it!

When Barbie went to Washington and found her dream...

My favorite 80's movie...

When I was in the eighth grade, our school sent us to Washington DC. It was one of the most profound experiences of my 13-year old life. Back then, Whitney Houston was beautiful, young and looking to dance with somebody. On that trip,  I saw black women commanding the sidewalks in the most powerful city of America dressed in power suits, carrying hard leather briefcases and I'll-crush-you high-heeled shoes. These women looked like they could change the world and in that moment, I knew I wanted to be one of them. So, I gazed through the tour bus window at those women through my triple-thick glasses, I started to dream the most unlikely of dreams for a tall, brown girl with big front teeth and not a lot of confidence. But, this was my whispered dream: "One day, I want to wear a power suit, carry a briefcase and walk in fancy high heels to an important job."
And, that dream stuck with me. All through high school. All through college. Through getting married a week before my 20th birthday. And the dream persisted when I became a mom at 20 years old. Through obstacles and unlikely odds, I still dreamed that I could be what I had seen long before. It was the dream I clung to when my life seemed to be going in the opposite direction.

My first job out of college came with the briefcase, power suits (with smaller shoulder pads - it was the mid-90s) and of course, high heels. I went to work in an important-for-a-22-year-old job. At last, the dream had become reality. So, I settled in. Over the years, we added a few more kids, a house, a few car payments, some marriage struggles, a few health scares. One day, I woke up and realized my dream was no longer a dream. Yet, I had nothing to take it's place. I discovered that life had chased the need to dream right out of me. I was afraid to dream.

Dreams are a sweet place where we vacation in "what could be." Dreams are not the place where we try to figure out the details, eliminate the barriers or chastise ourselves to be practical. It's just the place in our mind where we test drive the spectacular at any given point in time in the future. It's where we pretend in different scenarios until we hit upon something that we decide to act upon. The best dreams are about stepping out in faith, helping others - the worst about indulging self. However often do we avoid dreaming because we think it has no value or because we cannot come up with anything better than we are already doing. And that makes us sad.

We believe that being good adults, especially "good parents" means that any dreams we have should be for our kids - good schools, good sports performance, great college - those are our dreams for them. But, what about dreams for you? The kids are going to clear out one day and unless you want to spend your days trying to figure out Twitter, what will you be doing with your life?

A few months ago, our entire church read Rick Warren's book, What on Earth Am I Here For? The theme of the book was to discover why God put us on this planet and for us to find our God-inspired dream. I've been talking with people who discovered their God-inspired dreams. I met with a few over the last couple of months and their eyes are shining and they are bursting with energy and vitality - just because they have a new dream. That's what I want for you.

I've been grappling with my dream for a few years and I've discovered a few things that might help you - if you're interested:

1. Dreams are not mutually-exclusive - you don't have to quit your job, move to another city or switch out your favorite whatever to dream. Dream where you are at right now. Even today. Why? Keep reading...
2. Many of our dreams need time to shape and grow - nothing comes together at once. Takes time. Keep repeating that to yourself. "It takes time..." Say it.
3. It's okay to update your dream - or let it go -  Maybe you dreamed of being a high-end chef but you love spending weekends with your family (weekends are not chef-friendly), so it's okay to let that dream go and find a new one. Do you need to let a dream go? If you can't let it go, find a friend and let him or her stomp on that dream for you. Buy them dinner to say 'thanks.'
4. Your dream should make your heart race, your blood boil and make you break out into a cold sweat at night - if that happens and you aren't dreaming, make a doctor's appointment...Seriously, your dream, especially for those of us who share a similar faith, our dreams should make us call out to God for help because they are just too big for us. Now, that's a real dream!

So, what's my dream? Before I share my dream, I should also add that the best thing you can do is share your dream with others. Dreams need oxygen to grow. But, that's the scariest part of a dream because we don't want to put something out there and it not happen. No one wants to look stupid, Barb. Well, maybe you. You did do a rap video... I agree that no one wants to look stupid. But, we have to give ourselves permission to allow dreams to be dreams. Now, once we start spending time, money or resources on a dream, then it stops being a dream and we can't be careless or flake anymore. And that's okay. Some of you need to push your dreams toward reality because you've got something to offer the world. Get gutsy. 

My dream is to write a book that inspires women to embrace that God-given uniqueness and beauty and to have the opportunity to share that message as many places as I can. That's my dream.

What's yours?

Why did I eat the pie?

from greenermums.wordpress.com

Let me fast-forward to the punch line of this post: Last Saturday, I ate an entire pecan pie.

Yes, it was REALLY good. No, I'm not proud of it. In fact, the only reason I'm sharing this with you is that I'm so embarrassed I have to tell someone. So, you've got a front row seat in show titled, "The Day Barb Ate the Entire Pie...and Why?" Here's a quick summary of the storyline:  I ate a bazillion calorie, oooey-gooey, buttery-crusted, super fatty, pecan-laden slice of pie. It happened and I can't take it back. (Okay, I could have reversed the process, but I did that a few times in college and realized that it wasn't for me...)

The question that lingers is how could I enjoy something so immensely, but feel guilty about enjoying it? I feel like I broke some unwritten commandment: thou shalt not eat an entire pecan pie. I'm embarrassed because I let it happen. When I opened the package, I originally planned have a small slice each day for the next four days - that was my plan! So, why did I eat the entire 4" pie all at once?

Have you eaten an entire pie? Neither had I. Therefore, I had to make it up as I went along. I didn't just sit at the table and eat the pie. Nooooo, this was a road-trip adventure. One-quarter of the pie was eaten immediately in the kitchen. Another pie quarter was scarfed down while walking up my steps. The third quarter was eaten a few hours later in my bedroom while reading a 500-page book about a guy dying of cancer, who had just began dating his long-time love. Sad book + Kleenex = PIE!

So, what happened to that final quarter of pie? I don't know. At some point, I looked down and the pie tin was empty. I don't remember what happened. I just ate it. And it was gone. To borrow a phrase from Jen Hatmaker, writer of my favorite blog post of the week: Just whatever, man.

Some of you are mortified right now. Barb, how could you? What's wrong with you? Why would you share something sooooo embarrassing?!  I'm coming clean to benefit me and you (because I love you!) We don't want to let anyone in on the secret moments that shame us - even though 99.5% of us have a story to tell. I might have eaten a pie, but who's eaten an entire bag of potato chips? Or entire package of Oreos? Here's one: who has planned to eat a bowl of ice cream, only to scrape the bottom of the carton with the spoon a few hours later? It happens to us all.

In the recovery community, there's an acronym that could explain my pecan pie scenario: HALT, which stands for hungry, angry, lonely and tired. Often, when I am experiencing circumstances that trigger one of these emotions, it increases the likelihood that I will make an unwise choice - like eating a pie. It's not the pie that's the issue, it's me. In the past three weeks, my life has been filled to the brim with good things. Lots of great moments. Non-stop activity. Frankly, I got worn out. Last Saturday, pie seemed like a good solution to the "T" for tired. Should I have taken a nap? Perhaps changed my schedule or gotten some rest instead of eating an entire pie? Yep. But, I didn't. I ate a whole pie instead.

This weekend, I'm giving a message titled, "What are you hungry for?" and addressing the deep hunger that we experience at different times in life. Clearly, I need this message as much as everyone else - which is super humbling since I'm the one up there giving the talk. So, join me this weekend as I share a few things that God has shown me this week about how we can manage the tension that the different kinds of hunger will bring into our lives. We'll talked about how to find the true satisfaction that only God can provide. Also, there's a crazy ridiculous video at the start of my message. Seriously, tune in just for that.

CedarCreek.tv service times: Saturday 5:15pm & 7pm, Sunday 9am, 10:45am and 12:30pm. Watch us live online at www.cedarcreek.tv/live.

Goodbye, Marie...

First moments in America

Dear Marie,

It's your last day in the US. Today, I figured I would distract myself for a little while by writing this blog post. It's Saturday morning and we're in the living room. You're sitting in the chair across from me while Sami is braiding your hair one more time. You didn't want have to deal with your hair over the 24-hour journey home. I want to be able to talk to you, however, the only words I'm capable of speaking without tears are coming through my fingertips...


First peanut butter and jelly sandwich

 It's been tough watching you say good-bye to our family and your friends. When your dad arrived last week, it seemed like a week would be a long time, until the final goodbyes began and time start moving quickly.

It's hard to believe that today is the day. Of course, it's been quite a stressful morning for you... While we've enjoyed a year of shopping together, you've had to fit 10-months of American purchases into three suitcases - yikes! As you've been packing, I haven't been able to bring myself to walk past your room. After 10 months of watching bare walls fill with pictures and mementos of your life in America, my heart hurts at the thought of the looking at a bare room and bare walls. I am so happy that you are returning to your life in Denmark - so happy. But, I will miss seeing you stagger out of your room each morning, sharing beautifully ripe avocados with tomatoes or when you came down the steps calling out, "I got you."


Abbie, Kate, Sami and Marie

Earlier this week I found the first photo of you coming down the hallway toward us at Toledo Express on August 30, 2012. We had only found out you were coming six days before you arrived. I wish the photo wasn't blurry, but my hands were shaking so much as you came down the hallway. We weren't sure how those early moments would go. Our family was so embarrassed that first night when we proudly served you a Danish for dessert - only to find out that Danishes weren't actually Danish. Our bad.

There were so many "firsts" in the early weeks: first day of school, first American football game and how could we forget your first peanut sandwich. You hated peanut butter at first, but soon, you couldn't live without it. As we promised, we'll send over Kroger brand peanut butter when you need it.

One of my favorite photos of this year was the picture of you with Kate, Sam and Abbie. The week before you came to America, Matt and I promised your parents that we would treat you like one of our own kids. When you and Kate met for the first time and we snapped the photo of all four of you girls, it was just like you had always been a part of our family. And you always will be.



Marie at Homecoming 2012

As the months went on, we had the chance to experience a lot of ups and downs. You really grew up a lot while you were here in the US.
Do you remember the chat we had a few months ago? It was late in the evening and you and I were in the living room talking about the important things to know in life. You had come to the realization as to why  you were in America this year. And I agreed. My hope is that you will keep that in mind as you continue the next exciting phase of your life. You may be across time zones and a large ocean, but there are so many of us who have been invested in your life over the last 10 months. I think that one of the reasons I wrote those post is so that you might know that where you go and what you do in life matters to so many. We will always remember you and pray for you - no matter how much time or many miles are beween us.

Well, Sami is done braiding your hair - and I need a kleenex. I know you see me doing a poor job of not crying. But, I see a few tears slipping down your face as well. That's okay. Most importantly, your hair looks great! You're going to look spectacular posing in front of the Eiffel Tower during your long layover in Paris. Lucky!

 As you bounce up from the chair to finish packing upstairs, you exclaimed, "Well, looks like I am good to go." And you're right. It is time to go.

Was this year really Fabulous?

Angel, Barb, Lauren and Kerry...We survived another year!



Barb, Lysa TerKeurst and Lauren

It's been a week since the Fabulous Conference. Truthfully, it feels like another lifetime ago.

 

I've spent the last week of reconnecting with my family - doing laundry and trying to get my house back in order. It can take time to re-establish normalcy after a month of straight-up cray-cray. Everyone survived, including our five-year old rabbit who keeps holding on for reasons that make absolutely no sense.

I'm still getting cards and notes from women - and thought I would share a few thoughts. After the conference ends, the most common question I'm asked is: "So, how did Fabulous go?" While I am tempted to share some of the drama we endured behind the scenes, what people really want to know is if Fabulous truly lived up to its name. Yes, it did. But the road to Fabulous is always paved with some pretty bumpy highway and a few dramas, like four days before the conference when we discovered that we were 200 swag bags short. There were a few other moments when I wasn't sure if I was adequate for the task. Yet, God is faithful. And I have some pretty amazing girlfriends.

Another question I've been asked a lot was if I had a favorite moment. Absolutely! Lysa TerKeurst's talk was crazy-fabulous, but I my favorite moment was interviewing Lysa after lunch. This type of Q&A isn't usually part of her appearance, but we asked for special permission and Lysa was game. In fact, after chatting with her in the green room, Lysa graciously invited us to ask whatever questions we would like. During the interview, I remember trying to snapshot each moment to replay in my memory at a later date. I was sitting next to Lysa TerKeurst! It was awesome! (By the way, follow @LysaTerKeurst on Twitter and check out her blog at www.lysaterkeurst.com - good stuff!)

After the interview, Lauren and I giggled about how fixated we were on the gorgeous color of her eyes, how much we loved her shoes and most of all, how inspired we were by her words. Such a great moment that overcame the thousands of hours, decisions, dollars, frustrations, sleepless nights, mistakes - in that moment, it was so worth it all!

Lucky for us, "fabulous" never has to mean perfect. Fabulous really means extraordinary or wonderful - and that's exactly what this year's conference was in so many ways. If "fabulous" ever changes to mean perfect, then that will be my last year on the team. I'm not perfect. Never have been. Never will be.

At the end of each Fabulous Conference, Lauren, Kerry, Angel and I collapse on the floor of the green room. Since we usually don't get a chance to eat for two days, we scavenged leftover chicken salad lunches with our fingers (don't judge...) and scarfed down apple pie tarts like it was our last meal before the apocalypse. And we talked. And talked. And talked until it was time for us to resume our post-Fabulous lives.

Almost 400 women have take our conference survey and we've seen lots of comments and opinions about what we do at the Fabulous Conference. However, no one will ever be as critical of our event as we are. This isn't an arrogant statement. It's the truth. I've never had a massage, gotten my hair fixed, sat in the coffee house, purchased from the retail table or bought a Fabulous Latte. Yet, I've had the privilege of receiving messages after the conference from ladies who've experienced encouragement, inspiration or an infusion of desperately needed hope. These women are why we want Fabulous to live up to its name.

Here's one comment sent us about this year's conference. We thought we'd share this with you:

"I loved the fabulous conference this year! I wasn't sure what to expect because I have never been before but the whole thing was such a great experience! I'm 20 years old and I was kind of worried there weren't going to be people my age there but there were so many young people, and people of all ages that it made the experience a great one. I really loved the topic too on friends, it was so powerful and helpful for me! I really felt like the conference couldn't have had a better topic. The speakers did an awesome job and I definitely plan on attending in the years to come! Thank you so much for all the hard work you put into this event, it really paid off and I am so thankful that I got to attend the fabulous conference this year! Thank you!"

Grandmas are magical...

When I was growing up, I thought my grandmother was magical. Of course, I had a pretty low threshold for what constituted magic, so Grandma surpassed it every single time. If we are lucky, the word "grandma" means big hugs and kisses, softness and smiles, but most of all, just a great big 'ole dose of love. And Grandma's love was the most magical of all.

We lived in one apartment complex on the outer edge of town and Grandma lived in the complex next to us for many years. In my mind's eye, I can still see Grandma standing in the open doorway with a big smile on her face and open arms. I see her short, round frame with knees bent slightly to absorb the full-force of my lanky child body. Her middle was soft and she smelled like perfume and Crisco. Future grandmas take note: You should always smell like something good in the kitchen. Your grandkids will like that.

On long summer days, we'd try to stay cool and Grandma always had cold watermelon slices - I could eat as many as I wanted. One summer day, Grandma let me eat the entire watermelon. I stopped eating watermelon after that. Grandma felt bad and started buying Icies instead.

Over the next 30 years, I grew up, moved away, went to college, got married, had two babies - and then one more. Grandma would come visit every two or three months. In the last six or seven years of her life, we would talk on the phone a few days a week and always on Fridays. During our Friday talks, I cleaned the house as we chatted about politics, Medicare, cars, kids, etc. At the end of every phone conversation, Grandma would say, "I love you, Barb." I would reply, "I love you, too." And then she would say, "Honey, love you."

I was 37 years old when my grandmother passed away in January 2009. In the 18 months before she got sick and declined quickly, Grandma went on what I'd like to call her "Going Away Tour." She visited friends and family in different states and we went on two "girls only" trips together. Our last trip was to a place called "Kennywood" in Pennyslvania. We had a recurring theme for that final trip: "Recalculating..."

Six weeks later, life began to blur. A few months later, it was the end for us. But, not for Grandma. She entered into the grandest beginning of everlasting life in heaven. A short time later, my mom and I were on the phone and at the end of the conversation she said, "I love you, Barb." I replied, "I love you, too." And then, Mom took a breath and began to carry on Grandma's good-bye tradition. For which I am grateful.

I was lucky enough to keep two things that remind me of Grandma's life: her Red Door perfume and her handwritten German Chocolate Cake recipe. One sniff of her perfume and I am magically transported back to the memories and moments in her presence that blessed my life in so many ways. When I take a bite of German Chocolate cake, I'm a ten-year old learning how to separate eggs and impatiently waiting for the coconut-pecan frosting to cool before Grandma would put it on the cake. Then, she would slide the bowl in front of me with smile and a warning: "Don't eat too much. You'll get the runs."

 One day, I'll have to tell you about the time Grandma plucked off her eyebrows and drew them back on indigo blue...

Women: Our Ugly Struggle with Beauty...

The following is part of the introduction of a project I've been working on the for the past six weeks. The premise of the project is to examine the relationship that women have with inner and outer beauty. The goal of this project is to encourage women to accept the importance of both inner and outer beauty and recognize their interdependence on each other.


Ladies, can you look into the mirror and repeat the following phrase without flinching: I’m beautiful. Just say it: I'm beautiful.

How do those words feel as they come out of your mouth? Do you feel like you are talking about yourself or do you feel disconnected from those words? If you can’t even say  "I'm beautiful," , it's okay. You are not alone. In fact, a staggering 98% of women struggle to say those words and actually mean them.

Do you remember the buzz surrounding Dove's 2004 Campaign for Real Beauty research project? A decade ago, Dove created a survey to help improve market share for their products. Surprisingly, the research revealed more than what body wash women preferred.   The company's survey revealed that a whopping 98% of women did not believe that they were beautiful. Dove launched an amazing advertising campaign to push back against such staggering data. It's been almost 10 years since that study was conducted and there hasn't been any new data to demonstrate that the original results have radically changed. So, if those numbers are still even somewhat true, this means that approximately 8 of the 10 women reading this sentence would not believe that they are beautiful.

 Maybe your math skills are a little sketchy, so let's use a shopping analogy: If Macy’s had your favorite $40.00 sandal or sneaker for 98% off, you might be tempted to throw an elbow for a chance to get that shoe for only $.80. While a 98% discount on shoes is worthy of celebration, that same 98% signals that we have an epic tragedy on our hands when we realize that only two of 10 women believe they are beautiful.

What is "beauty?" Google's simple definition of "beauty" is "pleasant to gaze on or a combination of attractive qualities." Nowhere in the definition of "beauty" are the words "perfection" or "flawless." Yet, that seems to be what we've elevated our expectation of total beauty to be.

Many women will admit to having beautiful eyes or a beautiful smile. We’ll fess up to admitting that we think that our legs or hair is beautiful. However, it is a rare woman who can confidently stand up to say: “My name is ______________ and I think I’m beautiful.” Who is brave enough to admit to complete beauty, not just a pieces-part, conditional beauty? No, we could never do that. Sadly, 98% of us feel that we authentically cannot do that. 

Why is it so hard to stand in front of a full-length mirror and smile comfortably and confidently at what we see – and cheer what we see? Only a few women are able to do this. So, it is not impossible, just not likely. Even if a woman could admit to being beautiful in front of her bathroom mirror, we are not comfortable when a woman makes her proclamation of beauty in our presence. So, even if she could, we don't necessarily want her to do so.

Yet, we love telling our girlfriends when they look beautiful while forbidding the notion that we could have beauty, too - and admit it. I'm beautiful. No, we cannot say that. Not you. Not me. Yes, those words to belong to others and we pretend that we do not care that we cannot own them for ourselves.

We all know that there is more to life than being able to proclaim our beauty in front of the bathroom mirror. Yes, our value as women should not be wholly dependent upon our physcial features, a bathroom scale or what size clothing we wear. But, let’s not pretend that those things aren’t important. Let’s stop shooing away the topic of outer beauty like a bothersome fly at a picnic.  Let’s step toward authenticity and admit that how we feel about what we see in the mirror does matters. It’s not the only thing that matters, but it does matter.  

If this topic interests you and you'd like to follow this project, you might consider subscribing to my TallBrownBarbie blog. I'll be posting more material in the next few months, but I may not always share the blog on my Facebook. Why? Fear, panic - I don't know.

But, I do have  a favor to ask:  I'm looking for your stories about your triumphs and struggles with both inner and outer beauty. You can post your stories in this blog or inbox me on Facebook. I won't publish anything without your permission.