It Is Well With My Soul

5:30am the alarm sounds. Its early, but I'm ready and excited to start my day. I groggily climb out of bed and make my way to the shower. As I step into the steaming hot cascade of water, I can somehow tell this is going to be a pleasant day. Step one, Make-up. You know how sometimes you go to put on your make-up as you usually do, but for some odd reason it comes out flawless, making you wish everyday could be so effortlessly simple? Well today was the that sort of day... or so I thought. With my make-up finished I moved onto step two, style hair. Within fifteen minuets I'm finished with my hair and looking into the mirror amazed and dumbfounded at how great it looks... man what a good hair day! Finally I glace over to the floor where my adorable outfit lies waiting for me to put it on and walk out the door with an extra bounce in my step... if only life were that easy. I put my new top on first.... cute, check! Next goes the necklace... funky and fun, check! Finally, I go to put on my pants when... disaster strikes! UGH! No no no no this is NOT happening. I love these cute blue pants, how could they not fit? I struggle with the pants for a good ten minuets, jumping up and down, sucking in my stomach till I cant breathe, and lying on the bed in a final and desperate attempt to get the damn pants to button. In the end, the pants won. I found myself sitting on my bed at a sudden and unexpected cross roads.... I could have a major melt down, whining and complaining about how fat I've gotten, only to come to the conclusion that my diet and rigorous exercise routine starts today, OR I could remind myself that these pants where bought when I was still an unhealthy size, when my life was consumed and controlled by my eating disorder, and when I allowed a number sewn onto the inside on my pants to rule my life. You'll be happy to hear, I chose the second option. Today is a new day.... I refuse to be defined my a number, and I refuse to believe that I'm fat just because of my pant size. So now comes the difficult part. What is heavens name do I do with these pants that dont fit? Do I hang them back up in my closet only to allow them to taunt me? Or do I accept that I will probably NEVER be that size again.... not because I'm fat, but because this is the way God created me! He didnt make me to be a size 2.... so what? My body is a temple unto the Lord, and to make myself sick just so I can claim a size our culture deems acceptable is ridiculous! About a year ago this type of morning would have devastated me. It would have set the tone for a miserable day, but not anymore. Instead, I found a different (and equally cute) pair of pants to put on, I grabbed my "knock your socks off" yellow purse, and walked out the door with a smile and a sense of contentness. I'm happy with who I am... but I'm even happier that pants dont rule my life anymore. It reminds me of a song we sang in church last night.....

"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blessed assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul."