Juleeta C. Harvey

Empowering Women to Believe Body Truth

The World Out There

Enneagram New Year’s Resolution – A Healthy Approach

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I am incredibly thankful to Leslie, Amy, Angela, Keri, Tina, Adrianne, Ashley, and Sue for sharing how the Enneagram helps them approach 2019.

This summer, a few girls from the book club suggested we read Ian Cron’s The Road Back to You: An Enneagram Journey to Self-Discovery.  I wouldn’t say it was a gentle suggestion or even a nudge; it was more like a proclamation that it needed to happen.  The reading of this book was imperative to our learning more about ourselves and each other.  So the rest of us agreed. 

I was reluctant. Having recently completed my second round of Recovery, I felt like a needed a break from any more self-reflection.  The thought of getting to know myself anymore intimately was exhausting.  What I didn’t realize was this.  After walking through the Twelve Steps of Recovery for Life, the next best action to take toward understanding the way I was made in God’s image was doing just this.  Reading the book. Studying the Enneagram.  And laughing in a circle of trusted [Read more…] about Enneagram New Year’s Resolution – A Healthy Approach

What I Want for My Child’s Mother — Looking Ahead to 2019 —

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My son’s mother inspires my thoughts for the new year and my conviction that God-fearing women can declare truth and change what women believe. Anyone recognize the truth-telling mirror at Resident Taqueria?

My youngest son turned four years old last Friday. We adopted him through foster care. He is stunningly handsome, curly wisps of brown hair spiral behind his ears just after a fresh haircut. His caramel coloring is luscious, just a few shades darker than his four brothers’ slightly paler skin.

You can ask me almost anything about him. Is he smart? Does he love his brothers like they are his own? Did he have any problems bonding with your family? Is he, well, you know, normal?

And I will willingly answer all of those questions. My husband answers even more enthusiastically than I do. When asked about our youngest, his daddy exuberates pride like Superman beams fiery optic blasts to remind the world that justice is at hand.

But I cannot answer questions about his biological mother. Please don’t ask me about her. She is precious and beautiful and probably wrecked by the decisions she has made. Her years are too close to mine for me to distance her as “too young to get pregnant” or “too immature to know what she was doing.” I have seen her pictures and know her story. At least as much of her story as a notebook log of CPS investigations was willing to hand over on his adoption ceremony day.

But you know what? It doesn’t really matter if my son came to us through the state system or if he came from Africa or through a Romanian orphanage that barely held itself together through war-torn, barely pieced together 21st-century political strife.  

What does matter is that his mother carried him in her womb. She held him as close to her body as her steady heartbeat when nothing else was steady in her life. It matters that she chose to keep him.

She made a decision, for at least the length of 240 days, to keep his delicate, developing body in her womb. It matters that she sacrificed her physical comfort and potential opportunities to keep him until the Lord willed his living body be born into the Earth.

So you can understand why I cannot tell you her story. 

Her story is hers to tell, and her son’s story to share, if he feels so compelled and strong one day to elaborate. Theirs is a linked history that I am not privy to divulge. It is my son’s privilege to be a part of a narrative that is devastated by trauma and simultaneously blessed by redemption.  Blessed by redemption because my husband and I, his adoptive family, choose to teach him about the all-embracing, grace-filled love of Jesus.  By God’s mercy, we choose Jesus as the only Way, the only Truth, the only Life. Every waking moment.

As I look back on 2018, on the #metoo movement, on the Aly Raisman testimony, on the Kavanaugh-Ford hearings, I can’t help but remember exactly why I started writing on female body image, here. I was moved by my own experience, sure. My own very sad choice to starve my girl-body in search of happiness, not even knowing exactly that joy was possible.

But the real reason I started writing here, and did so with continued passion in 2018, was because of what I want for her — his mother.  

His mothers. Her and Myself. Both of us.

I started writing about how God’s truth impacts how we live in and love our female bodies because WE needed to know the Truth. Her. Me. And You.

I want mothers to know how abundantly God treasures and generously loves the female body. We must hold fast to the truth. No matter how “awfully” we sin in the bodies we’ve been given, the gift of redemption is offered to all of us.  And believe it is possible by choosing Jesus Christ.

“For God so loved the [whole, entire] world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him, shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” -John 3:16

This truth holds high a light for all of us, flaming a desire for change. As we look to the year ahead, Christian women, we are called to invite all women into community for the sake of God’s generous love.  Better yet, might we be moved by the Holy Spirit to embrace the prostitute, the lonely, the diseased, the addicted, even the persecuted? 

This invitation is a change from what most of us feel comfortable speaking about in Bible study huddles. It pricks the palms of our hands, where we imagine our souls. This invitation heats some of our necks and faces.  We become nervous and angsty.

Becoming more intimate with women who live “differently” than us is risky. It is not safe, but it is what Jesus came for.

It is who Jesus came for. For all girls. For all women.

For all mothers — no matter our story.

Join me in 2019 as we begin the new year exploring practical ways to help girls and women generously love their God-given bodies. 

Lovely and Beautiful: The Woman Behind President George H.W. Bush

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FILE – In this June 6, 1964 file photo, George Bush, candidate for the Republican nomination for the U.S. Senate, gets returns by phone at his headquarters in Houston as his wife Barbara, beams her pleasure at the news. Former first couple George and Barbara Bush’s relationship is a true love story, described by granddaughter Jenna Bush Hager as “remarkable.” They met at a Christmas dance. She was 17. He was 18. Two years later they were married. Now 73 years later, with Barbara Bush declining further medical care for health problems, they are the longest-married couple in presidential history. (AP Photo/Ed Kolenovsky, File)

I follow @michelleobama on Instagram because I admire how she greets the world with compassion and strength.  A passionate Democrat and former First Lady of The United States of America, she speaks with as much grace as any woman I’ve heard, consistently using language to compel our citizenry to unite in times of sadness and grieving.

Minutes after learning of President George H.W. Bush’s passing, Mrs. Obama posted this gracious tweet.  “As a public servant, father, and grandfather, President George H.W. Bush was an extraordinary example for us all. His spirit of service and decency will be missed by many, including our family.  I hope his memory will be a guiding light for our country and those around the world.”

Yesterday, President George H.W. Bush was memorialized by family and friends and laid to rest in Houston, TX, next to his wife of seventy-three years.  President Bush will be remembered as a man who fought to strengthen the institution of the presidency, who worked diligently to protect the United States of America from a series of building historical threats from other nations, and who above all else, sought humility and kindness in both his family relationships and friendships.

Today, I can’t help but remember the passing of his wife just seven months ago, April 17, 2018.  Maybe I think of her so much now because I recall how they loved each other. In a collection of letters he wrote to her in 1999, according to the Associated Press, he penned, “You have given me joy that few men know.  I have climbed perhaps the highest mountain in the world, but even that cannot hold a candle to being Barbara’s husband.”

Of his family relationships and friendships, his marriage to Barbara Bush was the most important.  From the time he began serving in political office, she is photographed by his side — strong, forward-thinking, and confident.  Looking back, I think her fortitude intimidated many, especially the American media who wanted Mrs. Bush to speak a certain way and look a certain way.

But Barbara Bush chose her own way.

During her service as First Lady of the United States of America, Barbara Bush was scrutinized by a number of media outlets because she looked grandmotherly, her hair white and her body shape average. As an adolescent girl, I remember magazine covers demeaning Mrs. Bush’s style choices, especially because they revealed her age.  Her clothes, her pearls, her lackluster pumps.

When asked about why she chose not to dye her hair, I appreciate the response Barbara Bush gave.  In the 2015 Today show interview with her granddaughter, Jenna Bush Hager, Mrs. Bush responded, “The white hair was because I wanted to play golf.  I wanted to play tennis.  I wanted to swim and my hair turned, as I’m sure anyone else with tell you, orange, green, yellow, depending on how much chlorine in the pool.  So I decided to go white.”

How is that for practical and confident?

Besides the countless educational initiatives she backed to help impoverished children in this country and her compassionate work for AIDS victims, here and abroad, Barbara Bush stood for something much more dignified than trendy runway looks and tweetable images that portray power.

Barbara Bush embodied the woman that Proverbs 31 praises. “Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value.  She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life.” Proverbs 31:11-12.

Today, as we conclude mourning former President George H.W. Bush, we celebrate the kind of life he intentionally chose to live.

And though I may be eight months late in saying it, Thank You, Barbara Bush, for choosing the kind of beautiful and lovely life you chose to live.

 

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Organizing Beautiful Things — A Gift Idea for the Practical Mom

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The simple, bow-tied pink ribbon begs for this gift to be opened. Credit to Jess Watters at designedbyjess.com.

My husband washing the dishes, scrubbing shiny the whole pile of Nutella crusted knives and plates scattered in our stainless steel sink — ooh-la-la, that is when I find him very attractive!

My bedroom, when it’s cleared of unfolded clothes that drape over the side chairs — yes, that is when I see my room as a quiet haven and not a den of destruction.

My closet, full of clothes I wear and cleared of the clothes that are not my color or my style, is a happy place to get dressed in the mornings — yes, that is when I smile, especially pleased, that I just put together something I’m going to feel good in all day long.

So, yes, enjoying clean and organized spaces can feel like a gift! I dare say, organization is a part of every woman’s fantasy. [Read more…] about Organizing Beautiful Things — A Gift Idea for the Practical Mom

What Does Plastic Surgery Mean for Women?

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Piercing Image by Photographer @anikolleshi on Unsplash

Clear as glass.  Raising my recently rinsed wine glass to the light, I can see all the way through, and the clarity invites me to marvel.

That’s how I remember Miranda’s declaration, fourteen years ago.  Clear as light-trimmed glass.

“My husband and I have agreed that when I’m done having babies, I can at least get a lift, if not a full blown boob job,” Miranda announced casually in the middle of our breastfeeding conversation.

If I didn’t have photos to remind me of Luke’s first chubby-faced giggle, I might not even remember it. It the same for his pulling away from the couch to take his first wobbly steps, which looked like dangerous tightrope walking as he lunged forward, one pink, fleshy foot in front of the other. Photographs call to mind all of the important firsts that I know that I saw.  But the memory, without any pictures, is a tricky thing — sometimes hazy and unreliable.

But I remember, very clearly, Miranda’s admittance at our toddler playgroup that morning.  I didn’t snap a photo of her saying it or journal my surprised response, but I can still hear her voice the words.  At any moment, I can press Play on the button that resides in the recesses of my amygdala, where the processing of emotions begins its journey.

Luke was barely three months old, just sleeping more than six hours.  I was suffering from a lack of sleep and a lack of purpose.  I had recently left my teaching job, decided against pursuing further graduate study, and had found myself enslaved to the never-ending nap and nursing schedule of a newborn.

What in the heck are we doing? 

 My child is perfect, so why am I feeling torn about motherhood?

That morning, in an attempt to not lose my everlovin’ mind*, I packed my diaper bag for the next world war and drove to a new mom’s neighborhood playgroup. [Read more…] about What Does Plastic Surgery Mean for Women?

The Hate You Give, Brene Brown, and Jesus

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Love the book and movie so much I can’t stop thinking about them!

Have you seen the movie?

Bright lights flicker and fade to grey and then darkness.

I scooch back into my snuggly, red plush seat, and the projector reveals a figure on the screen.  I look right, barely able to make out the face of my girlfriend sitting only inches away. The pitch black of the theater invites me to focus on one image — the man about to speak to me, large and looming, straight ahead.  I feel a connection with the man on the screen because his face is the only face that is illuminated.  The darkness of the theater has a special kind of superpower.  It creates an intimacy between myself and the man who has just introduced himself as George Tillman, Jr — the incredibly gifted and bold director of The Hate You Give.

His deep voice speaks.  With conviction, Tillman looks into the camera, his eyes seemingly focused on the millions of us sitting in the theater.  He introduces this story of Starr, an African-American teenager whose name was gifted her by her father, that she might be a bright light for truth.  The book was written by Angie Thomas.

But the story is also being written out in our lives today.  How will we respond in conversations about racism?  Will we be receptive to hearing and seeing the social ramifications created by hundreds of years of white-impelled shame on people of color? [Read more…] about The Hate You Give, Brene Brown, and Jesus