photo credit: Les Newsom
I lived with him for twelve years. He lied, cheated, nearly killed me and still I stayed. He made me lie to my friends, my family, and literally to everyone I knew. I was in elementary school when he moved in, so young, so innocent, yet so very broken. I lived by his rules and let them control my life. He was my best friend, my enemy, my dictator, all rolled into one… To keep reading, follow along at…
https://houseofhatton.wordpress.com/2015/02/23/breaking-up-with-ed-2/
“I believe that God is making all things new. I believe that Christ overcame death and that pattern is apparent all through life and history: life from death, water from a stone, redemption from failure, connection from alienation. I believe that suffering is part of the narrative, and that nothing really good gets built when everything’s easy.”
I sat at the table staring out the window, I didn’t want to make eye contact, because I was afraid she already knew what my answer would be. Still, I could see her looking at me through love filled eyes. “Martha, some day you are going to have to choose. You are going to have to pick your Eating Disorder or Jesus. You are going to have to jump. Are you ready?” I smiled at her, my painted on ,”you are very sweet, but you just don’t get it smile.” I looked her in the eye and with a level of defiance stated, “Thanks but I am just not ready yet.”
A month later, I sat in the office of my beloved counselor as tears streamed down her face first and then mine. “Martha, you need serious help. You need a professional treatment team. Your Eating Disorder is serious and it is killing you.” She let the words sink in and through my tear soaked cheeks, I nodded. ” I will help you, she said, but I am scared that if we don’t start really fighting this…well I am scared of what will happen to you.” I sobbed, for the first time ever about my Eating Disorder.
I spent the next few days crying. Talking to dear friends and to my family. I spent the time thinking and praying and wondering what I would do. All along though I knew the choice I had to make. Finally, it was real and I knew what I had to do. Shakily, I picked up the phone and called my sweet friend who told me I had to choose. I called and told her I needed help. I wanted to fight. I never said the exact words, but she knew and looking back I knew too. I was ready to jump. I was choosing Jesus.
It has been three years since those conversations and since I chose Jesus and ran into the arms of grace. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about those conversations or the days leading up to my choice. I was sick. I was addicted. And I was a mess. Today only one of those is true. I am still a mess but I am no longer sick or addicted to food or the constant thoughts of food or body image. Sometimes I get scared to talk about my story of grace in it’s fullness because in all reality Jesus and Grace are trigger words. They make people take a second look at what you are writing. They make people fidget and look away. People either love you or hate you for writing about Jesus and your Faith. However, the truth is grace is scandalous and unimaginable and nothing about it is safe and comfortable. Even more so this story that I am living out is NOT about me. It is about a grace and love from a Father that I could never imagine. My story is about the gospel.
When I decided to fight and choose Jesus I had no idea the ride I was in for and am still on. It is only by the grace of His spirit that I have and had the strength to stand up to Ed and my ways of control. It was through Him and the people He placed in my life that I constantly was given the choice to embrace the beauty of grace. If it was left up to me, I couldn’t have done it and the road at times can still be rocky because I am always a work in progress, as is my story of recovery and grace.
This past fall I celebrated three years of recovery. I celebrated the decision to jump off the cliff into the arms of grace and say, “It is okay that I am not okay because Jesus is better than being better.” The most beautiful part is, embracing grace doesn’t mean that I am not still a mess. However, it envelops me in all my messiness and it allows me to be my messy broken self. Because Grace is bigger than my flaws. Grace is bigger than my mistakes. Grace is bigger than my guilt. And Grace is so much bigger than my shame. In fact, it washes it all away and says: You are loved, You are fearfully and wonderfully made and Your worth is not in Your outward appearance.
I never used to understand when people said that Jesus wrecked their lives but now I get it. He definitely wrecked mine and turned it upside down in the best way. He took everything I thought I knew about control and addiction and swept me into His arms. He told me I was loved when I felt unlovable and that I was beautiful in His image. He gave me scandalous, beautiful, amazing, grace. Today, I have the joy of working with college students and because of that. I have an opportunity to show others, specifically these students, that kind of love and grace that is scandalous and unheard of and it is because of my story of grace and the work of the gospel in my life, that I am able to do just that.
I am not sure if you read this and want to scream or if you read this and are in tears. Either way, I would love to hear your story of brokenness and redemptive grace. Because when we share about the mess and the beauty of grace in our lives, that is when the gospel becomes real. My friend I pray you know there is hope in whatever situation you face. Buckle up, because if you are willing to jump, you are in for the ride of your life.
May you always know how loved you are,
photo courtesy of my sweet friend Caroline’s Wedding: All rights belong to Caroline Liegel and Kate Bentley photo
I have never considered myself a writer, in fact as a young girl I often mysteriously contracted a headache or stomachache when it was time to have in class writing. However, I have always loved words and the power they hold. In fact, that is why I believe that as soon as I could read I fell in love with books. The words that told such beautiful stories, touched my heart and had me reaching for more each time. I truly believe in the power of the written word to help connect us to each others stories. Yet, when it came to put pen to paper I always felt queasy. After all those sick writing days, here I sit, typing away because despite my aversion to writing I know that words hold meaning and if we use the right words much healing and hope can flow from them. I write because I have have fallen in love with sharing the story of grace.
For years I sang on Sunday mornings with the praise team. We would practice on Saturday afternoons and then when Sunday morning came we would “perform” our rehearsed set. I say perform because that is what it was to me, my regular Sunday performance. I would get nervous each time that I wouldn’t do the harmony perfect or hit the right notes. All those years I didn’t get the joy I could have by leading worship because it was more about the performance than anything.
I find that scenario so applicable to my daily life. So many times I find the need to perform, to say the right things, to write the perfect words, to take the prettiest picture. And each time I find my soul aches. I want to be the perfect version of me and if I am real that is never going to happen.
There have been so many times I have missed out on opportunities, because of this fear. I didn’t think I would have the right words to say to someone new. I didn’t think I would have the experience that they thought was worthy. Or, I didn’t even have the cutest outfit to impress. So much time has been spent living life as if I was on stage and each scene needed to be more outstanding and applaud worthy than the last.
Let me tell you friends blogging just brings a whole new dimension to that. It would be so easy to sit down and write a post that I thought would get the most views. I would be lying if I said that it hadn’t motivated me before. It would be easy to sit down and write about my favorite outfit or how I decorate my home or my favorite recipes (and let me just say that many people do write about those things and I LOVE those blogs, but that is just not me) That is not my heart and that is not what I feel called to write about. I write because of the words of others that changed my heart. I write to tell my story. I write to share grace.
My life is far from perfect and in fact most days I cringe inside when I hit the publish button because I know a little bit more of my heart will be exposed for the world to see. But when I don’t share my real true self and pretend I live a perfect put together life or when I seek to gain approval or show off my life, than I am missing the message of grace entirely. My life isn’t about pleasing others or gaining applause, even though that is often hard and painful to realize. it is about leaving perfection learning grace.
When I think about the world I can’t help but imagine people who don’t perform but instead live out their passions. I imagine the world filled with writers who write because they can’t imagine not sharing life through words, artists who paint because they believe that art has meaning, singers who sing because they can’t help but fall in love with the sound of music and people who pursue their passions because they have fallen in love with them not because they want a standing ovation and a job well done. That my friends I believe is life well lived.
So if you read my previous blog post than you know I am not about New Year’s Resolutions. However, this is my for my life this year and my prayer for your life as well. May you leave behind the critics and fall deeply and madly in love with your life, your passions and a grace that will change your world.
And may you never forget how loved you are,
I could have never imagined what my life would be life 365 days ago. In a short year’s time, I got engaged, quit my job as a wedding planner, raised my entire salary for my new job, became a wife, an RUF intern, and a Waco Resident. I moved from the only place I had every called home to a small town that I was’t quite sure of. I married my best friend, insanely in love, but having no true idea what marriage would be like. I became a mentor to many students in which I had to admit that I too did not have my life together. And in all that I fell more in love with this place I call home, more in love with my best friend, and more in love with these students I have the privilege of walking through life with. 2014 was a year I will never forget. So here I am six hours from the new year and looking back there is not a thing I would change. I made mistakes and I learned from them, but without these mistakes and triumphs of the past year I wouldn’t be where I am today. So my friends, I want to let you in on a little secret I am not making any New Year’s Resolutions and I want to encourage you not to either.
As soon as I was old enough, I jumped on the idea of making new resolutions at the beginning of each year. It was an opportunity for me to lose weight, do better, and ultimately “become more perfect”. I started off each year with the idea that this would be the year I was size x. This would be the year that I got the guy. This would be the year that I would be recognized for my grandiose achievement. In short, this would be the year that I would become perfect MK. As you can see by day two I was exhausted by my strict regiments of what I should and shouldn’t do in order to have the perfect year. So after years of being controlled by perfection, I am throwing the resolutions out the window. Because really they mean nothing to me other than an excuse to exercise my perfectionism.
So this year I have an idea for you or more for us. What if instead we made a decision each day to love more when someone is unloveable. What if each day we decided that we wanted to step outside our comfort zone. What if we showed grace to ourselves and others when it is the hardest. What if we encouraged each other instead of putting one another down. What if we realized that some days are hard and require more love and care. What if we pursued that dream we are terrified of. What if we realized that some days we may do none of the above and other days we might feel like we are on top of the world loving others.
That is what I want my new year to be about, making choices each day and pursuing grace instead of perfectionism. If I’m honest by the end of each year I couldn’t have told you exactly what my resolutions from the year before were. This next year I want to smile as I look back and know that it may not have been a perfect year but it was filled with grace.
Here is to throwing out resolutions and wishing each of you a beautiful New Year!
All my love,
Anne | Martha Kate | Liz | Mia
Autumn | Claire | Tabitha | Nina
CLICK HERE:
xoxo,
I remember the first time I heard the words that will stay with me forever. I remember the smile on the woman’s face as she looked at me with envy and I remember the pride that exuded from me that day thinking I had just won a gold metal. What were those words? No they weren’t you are amazing. No they weren’t you are so smart or kind. They weren’t even you are beautiful. Those words which held me in a death trap for over a decade were, “You are so skinny!”
I was ten years old and standing in the school hallway before class. A former teacher looked at me and gushed as she told me how skinny I was, how much weight I had lost, and how incredible I looked. I learned on that day; skinny was to be praised, skinny was noteworthy, skinny made people stop and notice, skinny was what I should strive to be. My heart breaks and I literally feel sick as I think of that young, innocent girl holding her princess backpack as her grasp of beauty begins to slip through her fingers.
I think if only the teacher had known I lost weight because of mental issues that were weighing me down, if she had only known each day at lunch I traded my home packed lunch for half of a subway sandwich (that a girl who’s mom was on the subway diet gave her each day). And if only she knew once I was given that six-inch sandwich I never managed to eat half of it. If only she knew, ironically the same year, I learned about how important skinny was I also learned what eating disorders were. However, I never even dreamed I could have one, because I wasn’t an emaciated Ballerina and I didn’t throw up my food, so how could I have a problem. That same year I would stand outside my Reading Class with a headache so terrible I could barely focus because I had eaten nearly nothing that day. However, the only thought which crossed my mind was “If this is what it takes to be skinny, it is worth it”.
For over a decade I would believe the lie, “skinny was the best thing possible”. Skinny fueled my Ed. I would try to brush off every compliment related to my size. I would deny it when someone said I was smaller than them. Shrug my shoulders when size “x” didn’t fit me. I would laugh when someone asked me for my diet and exercise tips. Inside, I would be thrilled. I was ecstatic of the praise and attention. Proud that my size had earned me this “privilege”.
Secretly though, I was dying physically, mentally and emotionally. I thought in order to be loved, in order to be valued, in order to be praise worthy I needed to stay this skinny. It was a losing game because no matter what the number on the scale said, no matter how small the size got, no matter how many people complimented, it wasn’t enough. And even more, the skinnier I got the more I lost MK. I had no idea what true beauty was and that it had nothing to do with the size you were.
Looking back I don’t blame the woman who stopped me in the hallway, she didn’t cause my eating disorder. My Ed was about so much more than that. That woman merely played the part that society has taught us to play. We are taught from an extremely young age that beauty and (even more) size are important. We are taught that it defines our worth and who we are.
What if I told you it didn’t though? What if I told you striving for skinny and even more perfection won’t get you anywhere but heartache. If you know me today you know no matter how much weight you may have lost or gained, I will never comment on your size. I will never tell you how skinny you are. I will never say you look like you’ve put on weight. Because I don’t believe commenting on people’s sizes is appropriate in any way, shape, or form. Because I don’t believe your view of beautiful should be determined by a comment, or a magazine, or by comparison.
When we take time out to comment on something we are stating what we feel is important to say. Worth is put in our words. I never want someone to think they are valued for their size. Because size doesn’t define worth. Size doesn’t define beauty.
May you know you are beautiful for millions of things but your size should never dictate your beauty. And may we work together to stop using words like skinny or fat or commenting on size in general.
And may you always remember how loved and worth it you are,
Three years, and yet it seems like a lifetime ago. Three years, and yet it seems like I don’t even know who that girl was. But I do, because she was me and deep down inside I know what it was like to be that girl. I remember every detail of my sweet therapist Shelley’s office. I remember the paintings hung on the wall. I remember the chair I sat in. I remember the tears that began to stream down her face when she told me I needed more help than she could provide. I remember the sobs that came from me and the Kleenex she handed me as she held my hand. I remember standing up and giving her a brave smile. And I remember the hug she gave me as I left her office, knowing I had a decision to make.
If you had bumped into me in a coffee shop a little over three years ago, you would have thought I had it all together. I always had the right outfit with the right accessory. I had bow in my hair and the biggest smile you have ever seen on my face. If you were my friend a little over three years ago I would have sat across from you at coffee and told you that I was just fine. I might have admitted that I had a little issue with food but that I had it under control. Deep down inside I knew I had a problem but I was okay with the problem because I didn’t want to let go of the control. Ed was ruining and wrecking my life.
That day in counseling three years ago I made a decision. I decided that I would stop letting Ed take control and I would start fighting for freedom. And I haven’t stopped since that day. Because of His amazing grace, and an incredible support team professional and personal, I am where I am today, living a life of freedom.
While it seems like much more than three years ago that I sat there terrified of what may come, I remember who that girl was and even more I see her all around me. She is the one who looks like she has it all together. She is the one who is involved in everything. She is the one who always has a smile on her face. She is the one who is the first to help you with all your problems. She could be your best friend, your sister, your boss, your mom, your wife.
You may have no idea she has a problem because you think she has her life all together. You may see her comment on food. You may see her be a “picky eater”. You may even see her count calories or exercise. But you think nothing of it, because in today’s society, talking negatively about our body or food is acceptable. You may think nothing of it because you too have those behaviors.
Can I tell you a secret? She needs you. Whether she wants to admit it or not. She needs you to hold her hand. She needs your hugs. She needs your love. She needs your support. Even more she needs to know that you don’t love her any less because of this. She needs to know that you don’t think she’s crazy. She needs you to know she will mess up and it will be hard but you will stand by her. That smile on her face is hiding her pain and her put together outfit and life are facades in order to fool you into thinking she has her life together. She wants you to think she has it all under control when really her control is slipping through her fingertips.
So love her and show her grace. Help her when she needs it and listen when she asks. If it weren’t for those people in my life I would have never made it in recovery. Eating Disorders are horrendous for the people dealing with but they are also terrifying for the people surrounding them. Loved ones often want to help but they have no idea how. So for those of you who are struggling, let someone in today, I promise you won’t regret it. For those of you who love someone struggling with Ed, hold their hand and listen. You can’t fight the battle for them but you can love, support and show them grace while they do it, and I promise you it will make a bigger impact than you know. And to my lovely support team, friends, family, professionals, thank you will never be enough. Because of your support, love, and pointing me back to His grace, I am living three years of freedom. Oh happy day indeed!
Know today and everyday, you are loved and you are worth it!
xoxo,
*Disclaimer: I am not a doctor or any kind of counselor or medical professional, just an Ed survivor and advocate. I also in no way believe that only women suffer from Ed so know that this could easily be for men as well. Even more, I don’t want you reading to believe that if you or someone you know smiles a lot, wears put together outfits and is a driven person that means you or they have an Eating Disorder. I simply want others to take notice that often the people we least expect to have issues are the ones that do. If you or someone you know has an Eating Disorder these websites below are great resources:
http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/
http://www.eatingdisorderhope.com/
When I was a sophomore in college I wrote a book. I never published it, in fact I never wrote it down because truth be told it was all in my head. I worked at a doctor’s office and that summer as I typed up documents, filed patient’s charts, scanned paperwork and worked silently, I “wrote” my book. I thought about everything I would tell young women and men who struggled. I knew even then that your story mattered and was worth telling. Years went by, and I put the book on the shelf, never to be published or read. Because it is tough to tell your story and it is scary but even through the pain and tears it is what we have to do.
Nearly two years ago, I started this blog to tell my story and in doing that I did one of the bravest things I’ve have ever done, I told my story to the world. I thought it stopped there. I thought if I shared my story here I wouldn’t have to keep doing it. I wouldn’t have to continue to be real and vulnerable. I wouldn’t have to continue to open myself up to others but I was wrong. Because my story is about leaving perfection and learning grace. It is about a journey through recovery. It is about saying that some days are extremely hard and tear worthy and some days are filled with sunshine. But even more it is saying that my story in no way, in no manner is about me. It is about a grace so big that it wipes away all my shame and says you are made clean. You are not your eating disorder, you are not your depression, you are not your anxiety, you are not your past mistakes and shame because you were made clean by grace. You are dearly loved and always will be.
So because I know that grace, because I know that love I share my story and I will continue to share no matter what. And my friend I hope you share your story too and know that grace is bigger. And may you always remember…
You matter and you are loved,
I never meant to be a blogger. I never sat down and thought I could write something that would resonate with others. I never thought of myself as a writer. I was always the reader. I love books like some people love the sunshine, I cannot get enough. I have always had a book under my arm, not a pen in my hand. I majored in English because I love literature not writing. I crave stories and the words in them.
All that time I never thought I was a writer. In fact, for nearly all of my education years I hated writing. I hated essays. I hated papers. Ask me to read a book and I would do it in a night. Ask me to write anything and I would sit on it for as long as possible. However, the older I’ve become the more I have recognized we all have a story, a story unique from anyone else’s and if we are brave enough to tell our story than others might share theirs too. And when we share our stories we might realize we have a friend who understands us and can help share in our burdens.
Recently I have struggled with the idea of myself as a blogger. It is no secret that I love social media. I can recognize that there are definite downsides to the use of social media. However, for many reasons I will always love it. I love the inspiration that can be found, the relationships that can be built, the companionship that can be shared and the storytelling that can be told. I have benefitted from each and every one of these aspects.
I follow some of the most creative bloggers, photographers, and activists on social media and while I love seeing their posts, on my bad days I cannot help but compare. Now my friends, I have learned that the comparison is the thief of joy. So when the lies tell me that I am simply MK, I don’t have a fancy company, I am too young, I am a nobody…the truth tells me that I am MK, there is no one like me, I have a story and I am the only one who can tell my story, and I was put on earth to tell my story so that it might point to the gospel…that is my truth.
So on the days I struggle with whether I am a true blogger or even more whether I am a true writer. I tell myself that YES I am! Because to me, a writer tells a story and that is exactly what I am doing, I am telling my story. I am a writer. I never imagined I could be or I would be but I am.
Pretty soon this special piece of web space is going to get a fabulous make over by my fabulous friend and designer KM (and yes our name is totally the same flip flopped. Hers is Kate Martha!! We were meant to be besties!!) So as that change takes place, it is important for me to remind myself and my readers why I write. I write simply to tell my story, in hopes that it may help one person realize that they are not alone and that freedom is REAL and it is the BEST! When we tell our story we allow the gospel to become real to people and that is my hope for this blog, that you would see the grace of the gospel in the midst of my mess. Whether you are a blogger or a writer, you are a storyteller because only you can tell your story, so tell it.
So if you are reading for the first time or for the millionth time…Welcome Friend! I know that you have a story to tell and one day I hope I get to hear it. And may you always remember…
You are loved and you are worth it,
MK
“There is nothing small or inconsequential about our stories. There is, in fact, nothing bigger. And when we tell the truth about our lives-the broken parts, the secret parts, the beautiful parts-then the gospel comes to life, an actual story about redemption…”
Dear Friend,
I want to tell you a story…
Wednesday nights were my favorite during the four years I was at TCU. Each Wednesday night I walked through the doors of the chapel and was greeted by a community of people who loved me exactly as I am—flawed, messy, and in desperate need of grace. The first time I went to RUF I was scared because I did not know a single person in the room. After I was greeted with warm smiles and gentle welcomes, I knew there was no reason to be scared. For the first time in college I felt at home. A peace washed over me like I had never felt before and I knew I had found the community I so longed to be a part of. That community was, and still is Reformed University Fellowship (RUF).
As a part of the ministry, I realized that RUF does not primarily live within the walls of the chapel nor is it confined to our large group meetings. The community of RUF is visible during late nights at Whataburger and while making Slurpee runs to Seven Eleven. You can see RUF’s community at early morning breakfasts, at birthday parties and Christmas parties, in the midst of break ups and heartaches, singing karaoke on a Saturday night, or in many other ways that we share life together. These people held my hand, dried my tears, calmed my fears, loved me when I felt unlovable, shown me grace upon grace, and the people who always pointed me back to the cross of Jesus Christ. They spoke truth when it was hard to hear and came to my rescue when they saw me in need. They have given me more love and grace than I could have ever imagined and they have demonstrated what it means to be in true community. And because of what this community did for me, I want to share the same gospel-love with others. I want them to know that it’s okay that they aren’t okay because Jesus is better than being better. I want them to know that Jesus loves immensely flawed individuals and that there is a community that reflects that love.
In my RUF community, we were able to serve each other with love and grace for the sole reason that Jesus has shown us a scandalous grace despite our adulterous hearts. We desired to share this amazing love with others as well as we could. We have spent time learning to live out this kindness in word and deed. When we hurt one another, we were reminded that God’s grace is greater than our faults. I believe in and serve a God who is bigger than us, bigger than our mistakes, bigger than our flaws, and bigger than RUF.
What about those of you who are reading this and aren’t a part of a similar community? What if you did not even know such a group of people existed? Well here is where you get to play a HUGE part in RUF. Come this fall, my (then) husband Brett and I will be moving to Waco, Texas where I will be the new RUF intern at Baylor University. Brett and I are beyond thrilled for this opportunity to serve college students. However, we need your help. Like many ministry jobs, I have to raise my own salary of $35,000 dollars. I am confidant that God has His hand in this and the money will be raised. You my friend have an opportunity to participate in the ministry of RUF and donate to my time at Baylor. You will help me be able to serve students at Baylor by giving a one-time gift or a reoccurring monthly gift.
Come August 20th if 85% or more of my salary is not raised, than I will be unable to serve at Baylor. So my friend, you were not chosen at random to receive this letter. You are receiving this letter because you too have been a part of my journey and walked through life with me. Would you please consider continuing along with me by taking this next step?
We all need a community this side of heaven to help bear in our burdens and love us well. I promise you they are out there. My friend, there is hope and it starts with unimaginable grace from a God who loves and chooses you despite your brokenness, He picked you. Responding to God’s love happens in a community of people who are devoted to knowing Him and showing his grace to others. Look for those people and if you are interested in giving to my ministry at RUF, you can begin doing so today.
Please go online to www.givetoruf.org and enter “Martha Moseley” in the box under specific campus, church plant or field staff or you can mail a check to:
Reformed University Fellowship
P.O. Box 890004
Charlotte, NC 28289 0004
Friend, I would love to sit down over a meal or a cup of coffee to discuss any questions you may have as well as to thank you for your support.
Please feel free to contact me and know that you will hear from me soon. I could not do this without you!
With much love and gratitude,
Martha Kate
Leaving Perfection Learning Grace 