Bo Stern

Well, okay…I guess there’s no other way to say it except, I’m sorry. I mean, I didn’t think the mere mention of a life changing book would cause such a stir and the problem NOW is that, well, I feel a little guilty. Guilty because I think your hopes were high for a spine-tingling thriller like The Shack or a turn-your-life-upside-down book like The Practice of the Presence of God. And this is not that book.

And creme brulee can never be jello (bonus points to anyone who can name that movie).

In my defense, let me say that in 2008 God has been pounding it into my head how important it is to care about my body and the things that I put into it. As one of the few members of Twinkies Anonymous, I have tried to work really hard this year on health and fitness. SO, this book was an amazing find last week – while I was still suffering from the Dreaded and Foul Infirmity.

But – seriously – it’s SO GOOD. Go buy it right now. Thanks.

Here are my thoughts the morning after I stayed up til midnight reading:

Eat This, Not That made me weep and this is why: it turns out that all the times I have watched Steve eat a juicy Single With Everything from Wendy’s, while I have fallen on the sword of the stupid Frescatta Sandwich, that I have been consuming HUNDREDS more calories. Fish Tacos at Chevy’s? Same deal.

In spite of the fact that I haven’t really wanted to eat anything at all this week, I bought this book yesterday and it’s fantastic! It clearly reveals (pictures on every page!) the relatively painless swaps you can make at restaurants and the grocery store in order to save hundreds of calories. It also lifts the mask off many of the things we think would be healthy options like wraps and honey wheat bread.

If you’re just going to thumb through it at Barnes and Noble, be sure to take a spin through the 20 Worst Foods in America list. Try not to cry. And definitely don’t go drown your sorrows in a Venti White Hot Chocolate – because that thing is like death in a cup.

So anyway, check it out…if I ever want to eat again, I plan to take it everywhere I go! (UPDATE: I DO want to eat again. All the time.)

Okay – I told you mine. Now tell me yours. What are YOU reading (Steve hates when I ask this question because it usually costs us money)?

Til Saturday,

Bo

P.S. Incidentally, I’m still not done being messed up by The Shack. If you haven’t read it, you simply must. It’s the first work of fiction that I’ve used a highlighter in so I can read and re-read.

A couple of years ago, my son came home from preschool and was clearly overwhelmed and preoccupied with a big piece of new information he had received (this happens to him a lot.)

Josiah: “Hey Mom, did you know that today is April Fuel’s Day?”

Me: “Yep, Joe. I did know that it’s April Foooooool’s Day.” (We often speak in a ridiculous and phonetically exaggerated way when our kids mispronounce. Except when we think the mistake is cuter than the real word, like when Tess used to talk about how slipperly it was outside and could she please have a bignanna for breakfast.)

Joe: “Really? Well, do you know what April Fuel’s Day is?”

Me: “Um….why don’t you tell me what April Fool’s Day is.”

Joe: “It’s when you play tricks on people. Did you know that?”

Bo: “Yeah, I actually did know that. It’s a funny day, isn’t it?”

Joe: “Yep.”

Long pause.

Joe turns to leave and then stops and calls over his shoulder…”Oh, and Mom?”

Bo: “Yes, Joe?”

Joe: “There’s a spider on your head.”

So, that’s how April 1 became April Fuel’s Day in the Stern home. (And seriously – given the price of gas, doesn’t it make my son seem eerily prophetic?)

Til Thursday,

Bo

P.S. Coming up: the greatest book in the history of history.  So great, in fact, that it’s been a distraction to my life and the classes I’m teaching and all manner of civilized conversation. You MUST get this book!

“Benjamin: “God’s beloved; God’s permanent residence. Encircled by God all day long, within whom God is at home.” Deuteronomy 33:12

NKJV: “The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him, who shelters him all day long; and he shall dwell between His shoulders.”

Oh, I SO want this to be my very own scripture! At my funeral, I want people to say that my life was God’s permanent residence…that I lived safely in Him so that He could live safely in me.

And how cool is the part about “dwelling between His shoulders”? A couple of years ago, we went to Disneyland and in the process of standing in lines for rides and lines for food and lines for more lines, Josiah got tired and asked Steve to carry him. And here’s a weird thing: that didn’t make Steve mad and it didn’t make Josiah feel like a failure. They apparently have a deal: Steve’s the dad and Joe’s the kid and neither expects anything other than that.

God and I have the same exact deal.

He’s the dad and I’m the kid and sometimes I’m going to run from day to day with energy and excitement. I’ll feel strong and unstoppable as I forge into unknown territory with courage and confidence to spare. But on other days, I might get weak and confused and not know exactly which direction to go. I may wonder why He ever trusted me in a world as large and looming as Disneyland in the first place. And in those moments, I will ask for help and He will do what good Dads do: He’ll pick me up, put me on His shoulders and say, “Here, Bo. How about you watch the parade from up here?”

I’m in a season like that right now. And by right now, I mean RIGHT NOW. Even facing Monday on my own two feet looks unlikely. I guess I could try. I could fix my attitude, adjust my focus, scrunch up my courage and tunnel through. But I don’t think that’s how I’m supposed to approach this week. I really think that – at least for this week – I’m supposed to take a seat on His shoulders and let Him do the walking while I do the trusting. Trust isn’t my strong suit, so I hope I do good…I’ll let you know.

Determined to enjoy the view,

Bo

P.S. Thanks so much to those of you who prayed me through The Great Sickness so I could preach 4 messages this weekend. I’m blessed to be a part of the best Family in the whole world. And to the millions (okay, hundreds) who have checked out the Great Dates page…I hope you find a romantic little spot to call your own.

“I’m just one stomach flu away from my ideal weight.”

-Emily in The Devil Wears Prada

Recently, I spoke on the Ten Plagues. This week, I’ve experienced what certainly would have been number 11.

And you know, I’m keenly aware that you don’t want to spend precious minutes surfing the web at work only to read about someone’s brush with death…but I can’t help talking about it. It’s the elephant in the room. The monster under the bed who keeps growling and pawing at the mattress. It must be said:

I have been felled by The Stomach Flu.

I hate any sickness…but the stomach flu? Is a bad, bad guy. It’s wretched and wrong and this one has added several foods to my “Will Never Eat Again” list. Also, it’s sucked all the writing inspiration right out of me.

On the flipside: I lost five pounds!

Til Friday,

Bo

Have you ever caught a whiff of a familiar smell and just been overtaken by emotion? That happened to me yesterday at Safeway. I walked by an Easter Lily and the smell of it…well, I’m embarrassed to say that the smell of it made me want to stop in the middle of the aisle between the tangerines and chocolate bunnies, lean over my cart and cry. So silly. But really, so great. Here’s my story:

My mom – the most lovely and gracious woman on the planet – loves Easter more than anything. We always had a big lily in our house from the very first moment they were available in stores. Lilies are an odd sort of flower, but beautiful in a strange-yet-stately kind of way. And the aroma that fills the room is absolutely outrageous.

I loved to sit by the lily and talk with my mom and she would tell me how much she loved Easter and loved the resurrection and it didn’t make a lot of sense to me at the time, but I knew whatever she said was important. And we would prepare food and special dresses and all the Easter accouterments, but we usually would NOT prepare Easter baskets.

My mom has a thing about bunnies and eggs.

She never expressed hatred for them, but she would offer regular – yet gentle – reservations. “Easter is just too important to be about bunnies,” she would say as she cooked or cleaned or sewed my dress. Her statement was never filled with anger at secular society, but rather a palpable reverence toward the work of the cross. And in these moments, my little subconscious gathered together the smell of the lilies and the food, the warmth of my home, the love in my mom’s heart for me and for the risen Jesus, and it created an indelible image in my head and on my heart. I can’t begin to express how thankful I am for this rich and wonderful heritage where the sacred stayed sacred. And that’s why the smell of Easter Lilies makes me cry.

So yesterday I was talking to my daughter and she said, “I remember when I was little and you used to say, ‘I love Easter – I just love the resurrection!’ and I didn’t really get it then, but today I realized that I totally feel the same way. I LOVE the resurrection!”

Generations of women, hunched over their carts, crying by the Lilies? That’s an Easter miracle.

(I love you, Mom!)