Go Ahead, Spanx Me!

jane: I bought my first pair of Spanx recently, based on a comment you made, Betsey.

betsey: Moi? A fashion coach? Oh, right, I do remember casually tossing off a Spanx . . . reference.

jane: It was for that Alaskan cruise Rich and I took a few months ago. I purchased a pair of their industrial-strength slimming panties for the dress I planned to wear at the cruise “formal night” dinner (the idea of having to get dressy made me break out in a cold sweat). Let me tell you, the rigors of shopping for that cocktail dress were akin to those I underwent in my quest for the perfect MOB (mother of the bride) dress for Sarah's wedding - but that's another story.

What about you, Betsey? Have you Spanxed yet?

betsey: No, but my 20-something daughter has certainly clued me in, including to the fact that probably more women, celebrity and not, than we realize wear them early and often – that’s how they get that unnaturally taut, toned torso when

you KNOW that underneath is a muffin top yearning to breathe free.

As you know, I’m not exactly on the red carpet either, but I hereby declare that at my next formal soirée I shall be suitably Spanxed.

jane: I love that! “Muffin top yearning to breathe free.” It does indeed need a little air from time to time, I've found!

Joking aside, let me put in a good word for Spanx. When I took mine on their maiden voyage, I found I could still sit, talk, eat, and breathe while wearing them, and they did firm me up a bit. Now I'm glad they're part of my fashion “arsenal” - you know, one of the "big guns."

I don't know why I spent so many years skirting around Spanx, but after one too many unpleasant encounters with a dressing-room mirror, I finally decided to bite the body-shaper bullet. Once I made that decision, I just wanted to get the transaction over with as quickly as possible. So I walked into a lingerie department, acting disinterested enough to discourage salesperson interaction while furtively searching out the Spanx display. I homed in, picked out a pair, paid, then hightailed it so I wouldn't find myself a hapless prisoner of one of those well-meaning sales ladies who hovers outside your dressing-room door and asks a little too loudly, “DO YOU NEED ANOTHER SIZE?”

I did have the presence of mind to ask the cashier about the store's return policy on Spanx. I figured they'd have some restrictions on returning unmentionables, right? “No,” she told me, “same policy as with everything else.”

I still haven't gotten the image out of my mind of someone else happily Spanxing in the pair I ending up buying. Eww!

betsey: I wish there was a way to buy these without subjecting oneself to a humiliating “lingerie experience.” Think Amazon sells Spanx?

jane: Amazon sells everything. And maybe Spanx qualifies for free shipping! I'm going to check . . . I bet they even sell bras.

Speaking of bras, do you remember how Oprah did a show once about finding the perfect bra? She had certified bra fitters on who helped women determine the proper size and style for their body type. Another friend once went to a bra fitter, too, someone we've referred to as the Bra Nazi, because according to my friend, this professional was NOT shy when it came to measuring her and figuring out the size she should be buying . . . and, of course

it's never the size you think you are while you're in a fevered state, frantically tossing bras around in a dressing room at Kohl's.

I remember this girlfriend was amazed at the difference between her old bras and her new, properly fitted one. I really should give this gal a try one day; I'm just a little shy about placing myself in the Bra Nazi's hands!

betsey: I think there’s a larger issue here, too – it’s being open to changing your look or doing things a different way as you get older. We’ve already “touched on touchups” – hair color, that is! Spanx, too. It’s new (to people like me) and scary, but it will help you! I’m seriously considering getting a straightening process done. Again, I have misgivings – not the least of which is the cost – but it may be amazing. We fall into clothes ruts and makeup ruts. I’ve known women who looked the same as they did in 1991.

But it’s so much easier – and safer – to stick with the tried and true.

jane: I suppose you're right. That might explain a certain reticence for trying new things. But is the underlying reason simply that we're stuck in a rut, or is it more about how comfortable we really are in our own skin? I'm guessing that the more self-confidence a woman has in her attractiveness, the easier it is for her to experiment with clothes and makeup and other "stuff."

In any case, I guess I'll always be a bit of a late bloomer. I didn't get my ears pierced until I was 50 (like Oprah!). THAT was a bit scary, but I did it! And as far as earrings go, let's just say I've more than made up for lost time. In the end, I'm really glad I pushed myself outside my comfort zone – and into the Spanx Zone.

Dream a Little Dream . . .

Betsey: Jane, I know you’re a dreamer, like I am. I can get lost in my own gauzy fancies – my seaside cottage with breezy blue and white décor (for you, a mountain cabin?), my Thanksgiving dinner with the dining room graciously bathed in a candlelit glow and family and friends sociably crowded around the table, lingering over stuffing and conversation, Fritz and I tramping over the green Irish hills while the wind is at our back and the road rises up to meet us (sorry) . . . What are some of your dreams?

Jane: Oh boy, where do I start? With the one where I can sing like Alison Krauss? Or the one where we too live in Ireland (sort of a Waking Ned Devine fantasy without the old-man-riding-naked-on-a-bicycle thing . . . )?

Mostly I daydream about living in a cabin in a mountain meadow, surrounded by columbines and lupines and alpine pinks, a burbling trout stream running clean and clear nearby. I sit on the porch in a rocker, cozy in my L.L. Bean fleece, sipping hot chocolate and benevolently watching my dogs frolic in the crisp mountain air. Meanwhile, a freshly baked huckleberry pie cools on a window sill, bluegrass music plays in the background, and Rich stokes a fire in a massive stone fireplace as we await the arrival of our kids and grandchildren for a big dinner of homemade beef stew and, of course, PIE! (In my fantasies, calories don't count, so we consume it a la mode. Sigh.)

Betsey: Then there’s my dream job, which varies depending on day, mood, and how close we are to the autumnal equinox. Today, inspired by the thoughts of a mutual colleague, I’m dreaming of a sort of cottage-industry, home-grown publishing company with ample capitalization where I could hire all my friends as well as an assortment of other interestingly diverse types. We would be quirky and creative but all-business, brainstorming ideas amid colorful clutter in our vintage building on an urban-village street lined with coffeehouses and used bookshops. So do you have a “dream job”?

Jane: Um . . . working with you!

Betsey: Absolutely! I do think dreams can serve a purpose -- they aren’t just useless “woolgathering,” as the old folks used to say. Especially when something keeps coming up -- that can be a nudge from God, although now we stray into is-it-God’s-will territory. But if I plan something and picture it -- like the Thanksgiving dinner! -- I find I’m better able to pull it off. On the other hand, sometimes dreams are just amusing and fun, like when I was a kid and dreamed about meeting The Beatles.

Jane: Oh, and I wanted to meet The Monkees and Illya Kuryakin from The Man from U.N.C.L.E.!

But seriously, I've envisioned certain house things, such as our master bathroom remodel, and I found creative daydreaming paid off. I was very satisfied with the end result.

Betsey: Oh, man, I love your bathroom, the dark colors and skylight. I went home and said to Fritz, “You should see their tile!” Anyway. But have you ever had a time when you felt really tugged by something . . . and eventually it became a reality?

Jane: Betsey, if you mean a strong yearning for something you feel God tugging at you to pray for or to accomplish, then my answer's yes. I've certainly felt the Spirit's nudge to pray extreme prayers for my children and my husband during certain seasons of their lives, and I've seen those prayers honored.

And as for my decades-long career in the Christian publishing industry, that really was the fulfillment of so many of those creative yearnings and dreams I'd had, in one form or another, since childhood. The path I've been privileged to take has always felt, to me, ordained -- a convergence of gifts and goals with grace.

As far as current dreams, though? That's where I'm struggling now. This present season finds me dreaming “small” rather than “big”: quiet dreams of a peaceful life spent being Grandma (Sarah's due with our first grandchild in March), tending my hearth and home, investing in a personal way in people's lives, whether through an encouraging note, a quick hug, a shared meal, a timely e-mail, or the occasional blog.

Oh, speaking of the blog -- I actually did find myself dreaming big about betsey:jane's future as I mowed the grass recently. As I pushed away at the mower, I imagined our little project growing into a much bigger venture, an e-magazine or even a book. I began brainstorming and became rather energized by the whole idea. So perhaps this little daydream is the Spirit's tug – either that, or the fevered musings of an overheated mind!

Betsey: Acquiring editors, are you listening? I know you’re out there! (You can join our publishing team when we get it off the ground.)

And . . . there’s nothing wrong with “dreaming small.” Because small dreams can add up to something very big and very significant. There’s more than one way to have a big life.

I Am Woman, Hear Me . . . Wimp Out?

Jane: Yesterday was vet day. As I sat in the exam room for yet another visit to have Daisy's infection-prone ears checked and her anal glands expressed (oh, the joys of dog ownership), a strong female voice wafted through thin walls that barely muffled other waiting, whimpering dogs and cats.

“I'm really pragmatic about relationships,” this disembodied voice proclaimed. “I told him, when you grow up and become a man, then call me. I said, I may or may not be around, because I'm not waiting for you to grow up. I want to be in a relationship with a man, not a boy.”

Wow! I thought. That's one woman who isn't afraid to stand up for what she believes! I wanted to shout out, “You go, girl!” but had no idea for whom I'd be cheering. (I assumed she wasn't a fellow pet owner, sitting in adjacent exam room, ranting at her hapless dog or cat.)

As I waited with my nervous Labrador, I couldn't stop thinking about Mystery Woman's gutsy attitude; at least in this anonymous venue, she seemed unfettered by relational repercussions and emotional tailspins. I marveled at the difference between us.

Unlike her "I am woman, here me roar" persona, mine is more along the lines of "let's-see-if-we-can-make-everything-nice."

I tend to be a constant taker of relational temperatures. A wannabe-fixer of all interpersonal problems. A people-pleaser. What about you, Betsey?

Betsey: Jane, I don’t even want to know what it means to “express anal glands.” Lucy’s just been through a round at the vet for fleas, but all I heard in the next room was “Come on, Burley! (Buehrle?) Come on, girl!” “Burley” is a great name for a dog . . . Anyway, that is a really interesting conversation. My first response: I am so glad I am old and married and don’t have to worry about relationships with guys.

Jane: That thought crossed my mind, too!

Betsey: Seriously, though, I can be a conflict-averse, wanting-everything-nice sort of person, too. Although again, another advantage of being, let us say, “seasoned” is that sometimes you just want to let ‘er rip. I was in a somewhat sensitive conversation just recently and was startled at my own passion and candor about a particular issue. Because normally in that setting I would have been The Good Christian Girl.

Jane: Ah, yes, The Good Christian Girl. How did we learn to finesse that role?

Betsey: We were taught, both openly and through subtle cues, that to “perform” in that guise was the way to success. I don’t think we learned how to be appropriately direct and honest.

Jane: You're right -- all those vibes we picked up that suggest we mustn't ruffle feathers or make waves or step on toes. No, Good Christian Girls do what it takes to make sure no one's feelings get hurt. Or blame themselves when something goes wrong . . .

I remember when my husband and I underwent premarital counseling. Our pastor gently told us that our greatest challenge in marriage would be in resolving conflict because we both were conflict-averse. I can't speak for Rich, but for me, I suppose I'm afraid that if I make someone angry, that person will stop liking me -- and that thought really, really bothers me.

You know, the funny thing is, there have been times when I've spoken up -- let's say about a customer service issue -- and my daughters got all embarrassed. Once we were in a restaurant and I complained to the wait staff about something. My daughters said, “Mom, you're being so mean!” And I explained, “No I'm not, I'm just letting them know something isn't right.” But that reaction troubled me; I didn't want my girls equating articulating something that displeases you with being “not nice” or “mean.”

Betsey: Saying what you think can come across as “unfeminine,” or so we can think. It’s okay if a guy is blunt, but a woman . . . uh-uh.

Jane: Uh-uh is right. When I worked, there were a few occasions when as a manager, I ought to have told someone to curb a certain attitude or change a particular behavior. But

I was so afraid of hurting someone's feelings that I sidestepped the issue and used fancy words to skirt around it.

I only hinted at the problem. When I reflect on this now, I realize I wasn't doing either of us any favors. I should have been a bit more like Mystery Woman (only not as loud). In the long run, we all would have benefited.

Betsey: But it’s hard to do. I know when I’m on the other side, as the recipient . . . it’s awful. I would rather someone be nicey-nice and conflict-averse, I think!

Jane: That's why I land on the more nicey-nice side of things; I spend too much time imagining being in the other person's shoes. It's the Golden Rule, only a little skewed. Speaking the truth -- whether it's “You need to stop being so childish in this relationship” or “Your attitude is affecting the workplace and impacting morale, especially mine. We need to address this” -- isn't necessarily the same as calling someone on the carpet, is it? It's blunt, yes, but it's truthful. And although I'd rather wriggle around it, straight talk probably seems more insensitive and harsh than it is because I'm just not used to doing it. What do you think?

Betsey: You know, Jane, I’ve done some speaking and one of the things I’ve encountered, when it’s late at night and people are letting down their hair, is a real venting -- about husbands, church, work, etc. I got a sense from some of the women of I can’t do this in the course of my normal life, but here I’m safe. I’ve also seen women be subtly manipulative rather than be honest. I would like to see women, myself included, practicing a kinder, gentler honesty -- because our desire not to hurt is a strength -- while at the same time owning our feelings, being real.

Jane: Author Nancy Kennedy once wrote an article for Today's Christian Woman magazine on this very topic, “No More Ms. Nice Guy!” Nancy nailed it when she explored how her compulsion to be nice wasn't always healthy or even really Christian. That's food for thought.

I'll be back in the vet's office with Daisy in a couple of weeks for a follow-up. I can hardly wait! Who knows what I'll hear this time. But even if I never hear any more relationship updates from Mystery Woman, I heard enough to be a bit inspired. I too would like to become more adept at balancing chutzpah with kindness, honesty with nicety, and my feelings with other people's feelings.

Reaching Out to the "Other"

Betsey: Jane, I want to continue our discussion of friendship from a couple of weeks back. In church we were discussing the meaning of “hospitality” -- is it just having unchurched neighbors in for coffee? Can it be outside the home? Could it even be with people from your church that you don’t know very well? Of course we didn’t come to a conclusion, but I think the consensus was that hospitality in the biblical sense implies building bridges with someone “other.”

Jane: I remember interviewing Patsy Clairmont of Women of Faith several years ago on this very topic for Today's Christian Woman magazine. Patsy's take on the biblical meaning of hospitable was being “hospital-able.” In other words, ready and willing to extend healing and care to those in need. I loved Patsy's perspective on this then, and I still do. It's very wise. And it's similar to what you and your church friends were discussing about bridge building to "someone other."

But I also find all this somewhat convicting because I tend to gravitate to people who are like me. And those are the ones I typically invite into our home. I suspect it may be I'm confusing hospitality with entertaining!

Betsey: I know for me, I am simply not going to invite people I don’t know to my house.

I don’t really know my neighbors except to say hello and have pleasant passing conversations, and I sense that we all kind of like it that way.

We could have a long discussion here about contemporary structural and cultural barriers to the sort of “entertaining angels” hospitality we’re supposed to engage in. Suffice it to say that there is a sameness to the people in my circles. I’m not completely insulated, of course; I don’t think you can be in today’s world. I work with, worship with, am related to folks from a variety of backgrounds, and I find these connections really stimulating. But those happen intermittently, not in the deep, ongoing, “doing life together” sense.

Jane: Same for me, Betsey. It's too often sporadic. Mostly I'm surrounded by suburbanites, and we're fairly homogeneous. The one bright spot has been our church -- Parkview has a great ministry to the homeless -- and the Wednesday morning women's Bible study I've belonged to for years, filled with wonderful women, most of them young moms. Someone always seems to pregnant in that group (except me, thank goodness!). I'm the Old Lady there.

I guess you could say I'm their “other,” yet they've embraced me fully.

I love that I bring a seasoned perspective to our discussions, yet when it comes to learning more about God, sharing our concerns, and praying for each other, we're on a level playing field.

However, this year I feel the need to belong to a group with a few more women my age -- it has to do with wanting to compare notes on being a godly mother-in-law and grandma. Will I miss weekly times with young moms? I suspect I occasionally may, because there's such richness to intergenerational interaction, and we're that much poorer when we don't have that.

Betsey: Sometimes it seems like our society is becoming so fragmented as

we all withdraw into our little enclaves, not bothering to really know each other and assuming the stereotypical worst about the other.

I think this cultural isolation is really bad for our country, but it seems to me the bridge-building starts on a local, “micro” level, person to person, friend to friend.

But how?

Jane: I suppose that's how any real change is enacted, Betsey . . . one person at a time. And it's probably the best route to reaching out to the “others” with whom we cross paths. Actually our conversation here reminds me of our book club's discussion of Same Kind of Different As Me -- about how Ron and Deborah Hall extended biblical hospitality to a homeless man, Denver, who then ended up extending unexpected, amazing hospitality to them in return.

Too often I think I've let insecurity hold me back from reaching out to those "others." That's something worthy of conscientious prayer, that

God would help us -- me -- see the individuals, no matter how different they are, who need to be blessed by God's love.

I suspect that in the end, when we choose to build that bridge, we'll be surprised at how hospitality ends up blessing us, too.

There's already a flurry of fall entertaining plans on my calendar, Betsey. Maybe this all means I need to be more flexible with my time so I can have more opportunities to be "hospital-able."

Betsey: I love that. “Hospital-able.” Guess that’s all of us!

How have you “welcomed the stranger” in your midst?

God-forsaken Prayers?

Jane: I started a new prayer journal today, a pristine notebook that beckoned me with a wide, white welcome to record my prayers in all their raw, unrehearsed glory. It follows in a line of many smeary, scrawl-filled notebooks (I'm left-handed) that capture an unedited glimpse into a faith walk that alternately falters and soars, pouts and praises, agonizes and hopes, worries and trusts.

But before I began, I lingered in the landscape of a previous journal. As I flipped through its pages, I found much in which to rejoice. So many requests -- for Rich, for our single daughter, for our missionary daughter and son-in-law and their travels -- had received happy outcomes that clearly demonstrated God intersecting his grace with my stumbling-along life.

Yet other requests for family and friends,
I realized, had been answered in ways I hadn't sought, prayers that seemed, in retrospect, almost God-forsaken. Heartfelt prayers for life -- answered with a death. Persistent prayers for healing -- answered with a recurrence.

Entries I once penned with soaring hope I now read with the sobriety of hindsight.

My journal reminded me of how easy it is to say “God is good” when I get what I want. But then a loved one's cancer rages or a dear friend loses a job, and it becomes a little harder to say truthfully, “Oh, what a good answer that is to my prayer.” Seeing the good in a young mom dying of breast cancer. Or an extended family member losing a spouse and then a grandchild. Or a friend getting a scary diagnosis and a pink slip. Now that's the challenge of faith.

Betsey: As you know, I write prayers too, usually in cheap Mead spiral pocket notebooks. A few days ago I was searching for a fresh page in an old notebook and came across an entry from December 2008, where I mentioned something to the effect of “Lord, I’m so tired . . .” because I hadn’t gotten enough sleep and my life just felt wearying. It made me think about how the same things keep cropping up, again and again and again. But, as you say,

we can also go back through our scribbles and rejoice in answers to prayer -- or just a good day.

I’m going to need to think more about your observation about God’s goodness. But for now I will say -- maybe because I’ve been reading Job -- that just the active, ongoing, sometimes pleading, sometimes angry, sometimes just chatty communication -- the engaging with Him -- is something I believe He desires.

Jane: I agree. There's just so much mystery to God; for instance, why does he heal some and not others? Why do bad things -- and I mean, sometimes lots of bad things, one right after another -- happen to those who love him? I wouldn't be honest if I didn't admit I wrestle with this. And the more life I see, the less one-size-fits-all Bible verses work for me. I just throw up my hands and say, “God, I have NO clue what you are up to in this. Remind me again, God, that you know, and help me to accept that what you're up to is good.”

I'm often confronted with the realization that relationship with God calls for a continual recognition of and surrender to the knowledge his purposes are so much higher than mine. That kind of grappling, stretching faith permeates the tenor of King David's psalms; his searing honesty and soaring praise reassure me whenever I begin questioning why sometimes, some prayers seem God-forsaken. I'm grateful that David, with all his wonder and worry, his blunder and braggadocio, ultimately never ceases abandoning himself to the Lord. That's the kind of legacy of faith I long to reflect in these prayer journals I'm collecting through this tough yet blessed life.

Have you ever experienced a time when your prayers felt "God-forsaken"?