by Barb Roose | Oct 18, 2013 | Women's Topics
What is it about a mirror that brings out some (or all) of our insecurities?
I wake up pretty raw in the morning. Getting out of the bed is one of the hardest things that I do all day long, mainly because Night Barb is a creative party animal. In fact, she’s working out this blog post right now. I love her…
Anywho, the first stop each morning includes a trip to the bathroom and ends with a few minutes in front of the bathroom mirror.
Over 525 women (at least I hope its all been women…) around the world participated in my October 2013 “Created with Curves” survey. I was looking for data to include in the book because beauty is a topic that is so subjective. Yet. what I received was so much more than just data. Those survey responses changed my perspective about the power and impact of the topic of beauty.
So many of us think that beauty is a shallow topic, but the memories, scars and wounds run deep under our skin and bleed into our souls. After the survey, many women sent me emails or Facebook messages with their personal stories because they had more to say after filling out the survey. I was humbled by how so many women cared more about a safe place to share their experience over anonymity. Some stories have made me laugh. There were lots of stories that I could totally related! Other times, I had to get up and walk way from the computer because the stories were just too much.
Here’s one of those stories:
I struggled with insecurity for much of my childhood and adolescent years. “Duck Face” was a constant phrase used to define me throughout elementary. Relationships were hard for me to form, not only for my never-ending awkward stage, but also my love for Jesus and telling every single person I could about Him. I entered junior high and decided that I didn’t want to be different anymore, so I followed the grunge trend – like wearing black lipstick and my dad’s old clothes.
In high school I consumed a daily regimen of Pepto-Bismal and club crackers to maintain my anorexic, size 0 frame. Craziest effort I ever made, not only to lose weight, but most importantly to feel like I had some sort of control over myself, both on the outside and inside, too.
Despite my relentless search to discover myself, God chose to use my screw ups for Hos glory…He led me to start a support group for those struggling w ith eating disorders at Bible school that is still impacting lives to this day…He turned my ashes into beauty unlike anything I could have ever imagined.
For all of her struggles, the need of her story inspires me!
As a Christian woman, I know that God sees me as special and beautiful, but that reality doesn’t always translate when I look in the mirror. Here’s some Friday truth, ladies: We are too hard on ourselves. You don’t need to read a book or take a $300 survey to recognize that fact.
The results of the survey are printed in chapter 4, titled “Flaw Finding.” Not only do we share the data from the survey, but readers also have the opportunity to do their own assessment.
More initial data insights…Okay, we seem to mostly love our eyes. No controversy there. Personally, I have issues with my feet. Which is crazy ironic since most people think I am obsessed with shoes. Which I am totally not – kinda. But, I have ugly feet. And I wear a size 11. (Obviously, I will be the first person to buy this book when I’m done writing it because clearly, I have some issues myself.)
by Barb Roose | Sep 23, 2013 | Reflections
Hello friends, There are a few words that describe the second half of my trip to Honduras: shock, awe, guns and beauty. It was an extraordinary Honduran Barbie adventure. I’ll explain…
Shock…
Last Sunday, I truly almost peed my pants when my friend, Karen and I were seated in the grandstand section of San Pedro Sula soccer stadium for the city’s televised Independence Day celebration. There we were -Americans and sitting in the Honduran VIP section. And might I add, we were dressed less-than-fabulously for the occasion…
Our hostess, Flor, picked us up at the airport earlier that morning. One of her friends was the Independence Day event organizer, hence our fancy seats. The celebration extravaganza featured dozens of public and private high school students playing musical performances, dancing and costume displays.
Here is the view from the a grandstand section of the parade. Karen was brave enough to take photos…I was not.
While Karen and I were shocked at our seating accommodations, we were more stunned by those sharing our space. To our immediate left were two high-ranking Honduran Military brass with lots of stars and stripes down their sleeves. Flanking the men and us were uniform soldiers hefting M4 rifles – I’m sure they were present for the higher-ups and not us gringos. Politeness – okay, fear – kept me from counting how many armed soldiers were in the grandstand section with us, but there were enough gun-toting soldiers to set my suburban heart a-flutter.
Karen and I were loved seeing all of the traditional costumes that depicted the story of Honduras’ 192-year history.
We watched the parade in near 100 degree heat for about four hours. Flor let me borrow her fan because I was glistening in the most unlady-like of ways. As I was fanning myself and Flor’s darling five-year old, I noticed that one of the guards kept moving closer to us, until he was standing close enough to feel the effects of the fan. So, I discreetly fanned the dude with the big gun. Never know when one might need a friend with a gun, right?
At one point, there was a huge rifle blast that went off while we were standing. Karen yelled and I fell back into my seat. #embarassing
During the parade, we saw remarkable performances from dozens of schools. The costumes were beautiful and the students were tremendously talented. Like the States, important events are always punctuated by a few intense moments – like a fight that broke out on the opposite side of the stadium. As we watched people running from the center of the action, Karen and I clasped hands in case we needed to make a run for it. But, police apprehended the guilty parties and the crowd cheered. We also were fascinated by a guy who might have been angling for YouTube stardom – he was dancing by himself in the middle of the bleachers and gathered quite a crowd around him. He managed to captivate the stadium’s attention for about 15 minutes while he danced his heart out for us and the television audience.
We were at the parade to see the students from Flor’s church be in the last group to take the field. It was cool to see those students a boldly stand up for their faith in a venue where they would have been threatened, harassed or even beaten – yet, they stood proud and delivered a creative, impactful presentation to the audience.
Awe…
Karen and I were exhausted after leaving the parade. We had been up since 4:30am and so our long morning, plus no food and thick heat made for tired gringos. Flor dropped us off at the home we were staying with a hug and some Wendy’s.
About the house…this was the nicest home I had ever stayed in. Once we were behind an exquisitely-designed gate, the front door opened and our jaws dropped. Just gorgeous. The homeowners are brilliant business owners and members of the SPS church? We were so grateful that they graciously opened their home for our stay in SPS.
Here is the first floor entry of the home we stayed in while visiting San Pedro Sula. The only thing more impressive than the home, was the hospitality shown to us while we were there.
Not only did our surroundings infuse us with awe, but so did the hospitality of our hostess and everyone we met from the church. At home, we pride ourselves on how well we serve others, but waves of humility washed over Karen and I as our hosts treated us like honored guests – it was truly a blessing.
Guns…
Yeah, there lots of guns. I should be used to guns. Shoot, I live in an urban area so I hear gun shots from time to time. But, on this trip, I really struggled to get used to seeing the over-abundance and omnipresence of guns. Hear me on this: I didn’t disagree with their presence. I knew that the good guys I was with had to be armed because the bad guys, with selfish purposes would also have guns. And if I was going to be unarmed, I wanted to be with the good guys with guns.
The kidnapping of husbands and sons is a real threat in Honduras, so affluent families must have protection. Imagine working hard, doing well in life and then, knowing that unless you have protection that someone will kidnap you or your son for ransom? How would your life change? How would you protect your family? This is the reality for many Hondurans.
In the States – at least in my corner of the world – we don’t have to think about life in the context of what our friends in Honduras must deal with. We might have angry debates about gun safety and law enforcement funding, but we have an infrastructure where our police officers and federal authorities are keeping the streets safe enough to keep the majority of regular citizens from taking up arms. Do I always think this will change one day? Yes. Unfortunately, our individual selfishness is quickly outpacing the now-unpopular moral fibers that our country was built upon.
While I managed my fear of constantly being around guns (our SPS home had numerous armed guards), I thought about our SPS friends and how they lived in spite of the ever present threat of violence. They boldly lived and thrived in spite of the threat.
In the States, we always act surprised when outbursts of violence penetrate our safety bubble, as if a quiet town or a suburban address insulates us against another’s selfish outburst of hate or destruction. Yet, SPS residents are proud of their city. They acknowledge their country’s economic and political weaknesses, but they never lose sight of the heart of the people and the physical landscape.
Beauty…
There were so much beauty observed during my trip to SPS. The hearts of the people and the love shown to us, but the beauty of the mountains surrounding the large city – just breathtaking.
Karen and I were inspired by the beauty of the home of our new friends. They allowed us to take pictures – I now know what my new kitchen will look like – ha! While I worked on my tasks for the conference, I enjoyed the glorious artwork and the new and vintage decor that surrounded me and fed my creativity. Yum!
We experienced the beauty that comes from establishing relationships with new friends in SPS – those experiences were rich and fulfilling. I am always amazed at how God blesses me when I say ‘yes’ to life off the beaten path.
On of my favorite places in Honduras at the Palma Real Hotel in La Ceiba.
So, this was a long post, but if you are still with me, thanks for coming along for the ride. I wish you could have come along and experienced the hundreds of other ways I was blessed during this trip for yourself.
Now, it’s Monday morning. I’ve got to wrap this up and head into the office after two weeks away. Hard to believe that life will go back to ‘normal’…at least until the next adventure!
by Barb Roose | Sep 13, 2013 | Reflections
Today, I got to see two lives changed right before my eyes. Steve is the gringo (aka young white guy) in the photo.
Young Manuel shaking hands and thanking Tim (left) and Steve (right). Our missions team host, Vilma, is also in the photo.
He’s a young buck who decided in February to go on a missions trip. All he knew was that he wanted to come to Honduras and help people. but, once he met the people he came to help, Steve’s view of the world was radically changed.
For three days, Steve and his construction partner, Tim (a missions veteran) sawed, sanded and built bunkbeds in a workshop in the heat and stifling humidity. This afternoon, some of our team went along as Steve and Tim delivered the beds.
Meet Manuel. He is in the seventh grade and lives with his mother. His dad took off for the United States years ago and hasn’t been heard from since. Manuel’s home is adjoined to his aunt’s home. Both women was single mothers trying to raise their children in conditions that we cannot imagine – and probably could not endure.
After the bed was placed, Manuel, his aunt and our team stood around the front steps for the dedication. The CDI director, Heather, and our missions team host, Vilma, explained to Manuel that our team raised the money for the beds. They also explained that Steve and Tim were responsible for building the beds. Our eyes welled as Manuel made his way over to Steve to give him a big hug. Then, young Manuel made his way around our group hugging us and thanking us for raising the money for his bed. It was an epic humbling moment. In fact, we didn’t feel we deserved to be thanked. Afterall, it was just a bunk bed, right? Why should this young man thank us for something we gringos take for granted?
Except this young man didn’t have a bed of his own before today. And his gratitude gently reminded us that the smallest gestures of kindness can have tremendous, life-changing impact.
Here are the bunkbeds that Steve and Tim built.
The expression on Steve’s face touched my heart as he looked into the face of the young man who would no longer need to share a sleeping space with two, three or more family members. Steve was working hard to be a dude about the emotional situation, but some moments are just too big not to let a man-tear drop. Manuel now had a bed because Steve showed up and built it. Two lives were changed and if our prayers are answered, both of these young men’s lives will never be the same.
Our next stop was to Claudia and Evelyn’s home. I’ve met Claudia on my first trip to Honduras. She’s a bright, kind, young girl, now in the seventh grade. By the time kids finish elementary school, continuing to high school is an expensive pursuit – especially for families that make less than $300 a month. High school isn’t free. And over 80% of the kids at the center are from families that make waaayyyy less than $300 a month.
Yet, Claudia has a monthly sponsor to help cover the cost of her high school tuition and supplies. Other girls in her neighborhood don’t get such a chance. Semi-educated girls have woefully few opportunities and most end up pregnant before 18 years old.
Vilma is telling us about Claudia and Evelyn during our visit to deliver their bunkbeds. Claudia was stunned when she realized how high in the air her top bunk was.
I have hope for Claudia. I pray that she keeps coming to the center so she can keep her sponsor. I hope that one day, she will come back to her neighborhood and tell a different storyline to the young girls – that they can have hope – and that God (not the government) will send someone to help them along the way.
After driving around a large neighborhood called “Buffalo,” we drove up a big hill. Heather pointed out that a political party paved one lane of just about 100ft of rocky hill road and bragged to the community about capital improvements. IMO, I think they should have paved the other lane before tooting their own horn…
Anywho…our final home visit was to Adrianna and Dunia’s home. Their mother, Carmen, had just moved into this home on the hill after leaving a physically abusive marriage. An uneducated, Honduran woman has literally no options in such a situation, but Carmen did have a twin sister. Carmen snuck away for her home with nothing, but her life and her children.
At one point, her husband showed up at her sister while drunk and swinging a machete, but thankfully, he did not get into the home. Vilma shared Carmen’s story. we could see the evidence of Carmen’s battered wife’s syndrome – withdrawn, fearful, depressed, anxious… Yet, the folks at the church invited her to volunteer with the kids at the center. Over the past three months, Carmen has started to speak a little more and Vilma reports that Carmen has even smiled once or twice.
In the US, we have lots of debates about what poverty really looks like. Folks, this is poverty. We might have high unemployment and declining tax revenues, but let’s not confuse that for poverty.
This was the entrance to the neighborhood where our team worked on a new cement block home with a concrete floor for a deserving family.
Yet, while those we visited in pressboard homes with dirt floors may have not had much in the way of material wealth, they possessed an enduring spirit in the face of great challenge. When asked how they are doing, their universal response is a smile and the word ‘bien,’ which means ‘good.’
Could we say the same? Could we wake up in homes with dirt floors made muddy after winter rainstorms and still say we are going good? Could we toil for hours each day in oppressive sun and humidity for a few dollars each day and say we are doing good? Probably not.
Every time I come to Honduras, God teaches me life lessons that I could NEVER learn at home. The language of love is spoken here and through our Honduran friends, we experience tremendous generosity, kindness, hospitality and we witness their unshakeable faith that transcends language barriers and cultural differences. Even though I come to serve, I always leave much richer in heart and spirit than I ever deserve.
by Barb Roose | Aug 30, 2013 | Uncategorized
Last weekend, I heard the story of a young Moldovan orphan who was rescued from a life of hardship and most likely the sex trade:
“I was one of three girls rescued and taken to Stella’s House…I recently talked to one of the girls who wasn’t rescued. She ended up working as a prostitute. At Christmas, I spent the day with my new family at Stella’s House. The girl told me that she was used by men 95 times that day…”
In a moment, the large auditorium went absolutely silent. But, my mind kept screaming two horrible words: 95 times…95 times…95 times…95 times… 95 times…95 times…
I felt sick. Immediately, physically sick.
I knew that she was telling the truth – but I didn’t want to hear it. When we hear truths that wreck our world as it exists, our inclination is to turn our eyes away and cover our ears. It’s like a desperate attempt to maintain a faux and fleeting ignorance. Perhaps we cannot relate, but most often the reality is that we do not want to relate. Sure, our lives might be a mess, but we still like looking through the rest of the world in Pinterest-colored classes where things are lovely, coordinated and clean.
Yet, I needed to hear that young woman tell the story of the realities that I did not know – God sent her to share that realities that I could not bear to see or hear – because I needed to see and hear them. God used those stories to open my heart to an even greater degree than what I thought possible.
As one of 10,000 people at CedarCreek.tv last weekend viewing the images of orphanages in Moldova defied our Westernized logic. I know many people were thinking those young ladies MUST be exaggerating. Thoughts such as: Could it really be that bad? Then, others were battling what I like to call the “Heart/Head War”:
“Stay calm,” warns our Mind. “Don’t get too riled up. It can’t be as bad as what they say it is. It can’t be…”
“But, what if it is?!” screams our Heart, before it asks the scariest question of all: “How can I help?”
What if we all valiantly fight the urge to un-see that which makes us uncomfortable? And what if we choose to walk into someone else’s nightmare in order to bring them hope?
CedarCreek.tv Arts Pastor Jason Tucker and the young ladies from Stella’s Voice in a group selfie. Those smiles are brought to you courtesy of the love and financial support of many people around the world. You can make a difference!
Here’s what I discovered this weekend…when we don’t try to “un-see” the horror and we open ourselves to being a part of the solution, God will tell us what He wants us to do. Most of us won’t be called to leave our homes and move oversees – but some could be called to do that. Some of us might be able to take a missions trip over to Moldova to work at a summer camp or serve at a transitional home – but most of us won’t.
Yet, there is one thing we can all do. And it’s the one thing we don’t want to do: GIVE.
Could it be that God put us here in the United States of America specifically so that we could leverage living in the land of prosperity and break off a small bit of that so that others in the world could have a chance? And based on what we saw this weekend, anything you are willing to give will make a difference. Anything.
Action steps:
1. If you didn’t see our weekend service, you can watch it here: cedarcreek.aspireonemedia.com/647/0/12010
2. Pray! If your heart is stirred to help the people in Moldova or people hurting in other areas, like our community, God will open the doors so that you can help.
3. Give. There’s no way around this. Think about it this way: If you give $50 this month will you remember that money a month from now? Probably not. But, will it make a difference far beyond what you would have used it for? Yep. Guaranteed.
by Barb Roose | Aug 16, 2013 | Reflections
In a previous post, I shared about how much I hate running. It’s not that I hate the idea of running, I just HATE that I’m not any good at it. Once, I was running a 5k and every single 60 or 70 year-old in the 
race passed right by.
I see people jogging through my neighborhood early in the morning or evening, just cruising along at their stupid seven minute mile pace. I just watch them float by…and sigh. Most of them make it look so easy, don’t they? I longingly gaze that the runners who streak by wearing their coordinated top and bottoms, swanky iPod arm band and Bose earbuds. I figure if they can run that well, they deserve to look that fancy.
Then there’s me…
Now, I’ve got great shoes. I learned quickly that bad shoes make for bad running. My clothes. No-so- fabulous. My friends, 54% of the time I am running in my pajamas. Now you know. I use the Nike Running app (but I live in fear that I might accidently post my run results to social media. I’d almost rather tell you how much I weigh over my average mile time. Wait. That was probably an exaggeration. Well…uhmmm…yes, it was.)
Starting the run, my first 1/4 mile is always AWESOME! I feel great – almost like those super-striders I hate admire so much. But, by the two-mile mark, I am pitiful. And my self-talk is pitiful, too. Just try not to die on Monroe Street during the 7:45am rush-hour traffic. Stumble over to that side street and then keel over. In those doubtful moments, I focus on the basics: proper breathing, using my arms and proper stride. I just keep doing those basics over and over again. And eventually, I always make my way back home.
Living out my faith sometimes feels like my morning run.
There are days when I am flying high – it’s me and God taking on the world! I love that feeling. I read my Bible and every promise soaks right into my heart and mind. I radiate love, joy, peace and all of the rest. In those moments, I glide through the hours of the day with the hope that every day could feel like that.
But, the other days…
Days when I feel like I am on Monroe Street running in rush-hour traffic. So much is coming at me and I don’t feel like I am strong enough to keep going. Sometimes, I don’t want to keep going…
This is a picture of me and my shadow on Monroe Street at the point when my run is at its toughest. Yet, I love how shadows always make me look skinny…
When we get weary and we get tired, our brains go into survival mode. Higher-level thinking and reasoning takes a backseat to basic functions, like breathing. That’s why we get paralyzed and confused when we struggle under tremendous stress.
During those times in my faith life, my prayers are short and desperate: “God, help me”…”God, I hate the way I feel, help me”…”Help me.”
God is okay with us sending out that prayer. He definitely wants us to send out that prayer instead of trying to fix the unfixable on our own. But, there’s something more…
Just like I have to focus on the basics – good breathing, using my arms, proper stride – when I am at a tough place in my run, I also have to focus on the basics when I am at a tough place in my faith.
Living out (or walking) by faith is as much over a “how” as it is a “what.” So, here are the basics that I try to remember – maybe these will help you:
1. Love God, love others – This basic command is contained in many verses in the New Testament (Mark 12:29-31 and others). What does it mean to love God? Obedience. Easy to know…hard to do. God knows what we need, we just have to do it so that we can receive what we truly need to live and thrive. Loving others is about being generous with our heart – which leads to generosity with our time, our energy and even our money.
2. Focus on today…Matthew 6:34 reminds us that tomorrow’s problems cannot be our concern. God’s already got tomorrow – but we’ll be in a much better position to handle tomorrow if we focus on what God is calling us to do today.
3. Don’t worry and give thanks…Philippians 4:6 is a rock-star verse. How much of our lives do we spend freaking out? But, when we force ourselves to list out (even write out) what we are grateful for, then we experience the promise at the end of this verse: God’s peace which far exceeds the pitiful, fragile peace we try to secure on our own.
4. Don’t isolate!…Galatians 6:2 reminds us that we have to reach out to each other. Tell someone you are struggling. Our brains need oxygen, glucose and relationships to survive!* So, speak up and live!
I thought maybe I would mention that this blog came from my own personal journal this week. Since I was struggling in this area, I figured a few other folks might be as well. So, if you’d like to share verses or thoughts that help you walk by faith, feel free to post them here for others to read or on my Facebook page.
*reference: Dr. Henry Cloud’s Boundaries for Leaders – great book!
