0

Do yourself a favor and get to know Teasi Cannon. The truth is I don’t know her that well except for a FB message here and there. Remember when I said you don’t have to share coffee and bagels to consider someone a friend? Still true!

Teasi speaks frequently at the women’s Bible study at my church and she spoke on that dreaded women’s retreat (see Women, Chocolate and Kleenex: Why Retreats Scare Me). She is the real deal; I would never waste your time with someone that wasn’t. I love how she adds just the right amount of humor as she takes you down the road of pain she traveled for years. She isn’t afraid to laugh with you, only to cry with you. And when beautiful people are changing lives for the better, we all need to know about it.

One of the beautiful things about Teasi is that she isn’t afraid to talk about what we’ve all felt in some way or another—that our appearance determines our value. She tells about reaching her lowest only to have her perception of God change. Now her goal is to share her story so that people can see the goodness of God in her, (and in you), despite what the media or scale says!

There is great beauty to be found in broken people, now healed, and who aren’t afraid to share their story.

Now that she has had her first book published, I’m honored that she would contribute to my blog. My Big Bottom Blessing: How Hating My Body Led to Loving My Life should be on your bookshelf. So go ahead…look her up at www.TeasiCannon.com and then head over to Barnes and Noble or Amazon.com and buy a copy today.

Maybe you’re looking for a speaker for your next women’s event or retreat. Teasi has much to share and I know she woudn’t disappoint if you invited her to your church! (She didn’t ask me to put that either.)

I hope that on this Beautiful Thursday you can look in the mirror and see the beautiful person God created you to be…just like you are. If that’s too difficult to do, then My Big Bottom Blessing can help.

Thank you, Teasi, for sharing your beautiful story with us today. 

____________________________________________________________________

Thankful for a Big Rear by Teasi Cannon

One day not long ago I was sweeping my kitchen floor in the near trance-like state of La La Land, when I was jolted to my senses by the precious voice of my 4-year-old nephew saying, “Aunt Teasi, you have a vahwee (very) big butt.”

I set my broom aside, smoothed my shirt, and calmly turned to face him.  Bright-eyed and curly-haired, he stood – completely oblivious to the fact that he had said the words no woman ever wants to hear.  And then I let him have it.  I bent down, coming only inches away from his little round face, and said, “Why…thank you!”  Then I smiled big, stood to grab my broom, and returned unscathed to the task at hand.

A few years ago those innocently spoken words would have completely obliterated me, and rather than a thank you, might have actually incited an immature come-back such as: “Oh, yeah?  Well, you’re short and you talk funny.”

But now, to the glory of God, moments like that are reminders to me that the miraculous has happened: I no longer hate my body (especially my back side); in fact, it has become one of the biggest blessings in my life.

Like most women (really every woman I’ve ever met), I lived years literally disgusted with what I saw in the mirror.  The territory between my ears felt like nothing short of a war zone, with battles being fought everywhere: the bathroom, the grocery store, the bedroom, even church.  I could never silence the ambush-ready community of inner critics (those hurtful thoughts we all think) that called my head home.  And I missed out on so much: parties I refused to attend because my pants were too tight, dates with my husband because of a few gained pounds, quality time with my kids.  I know I’m not alone in this.

We women have been lied to for years.  We’ve been told that our value – our very right to be seen and celebrated – is determined by our waist-to-hip ratio or the proportions of our facial features, and that’s just not true.  Our value is determined by the only One who really knows it: our God.

After hitting my head hard on the floor of my personal pit of despair, I slowly began my journey toward believing that.  One inch at a time of healing, truth, and righteous anger led me to a life-saving realization: All those years I was desperate to change how I looked, God was desperate to change how I see.  And He did.

Truth is, if God can make a prostitute the great grandmother of the Messiah, turn water into wine, and make blind men see; don’t you think He can turn a big bottom – or a big nose – or bird-thin legs – or whatever it is you hate – into a blessing?  He did it for me, and I’m so ridiculously happy about the journey that I wrote a book about it.

You Can’t Have Children…part 4

Finally my husband lets me have a say! This is part 4 of part of the story of how our precious daughter, Sophia, came into our lives. You really should read parts 1-3 first. You can find them here under the Category “Life” or by searching for its tag with Adoption, Regi, Sophia or You Can’t Have Children. While you’re here, feel free to check out my husband’s blog at www.RegiStone.com. I think you’ll like what he shares. 

The phone call from Regi came out of nowhere. I was in the bathroom putting make-up on to go to my job selling make-up. Life was miserable. And I sure didn’t want to hear my cheery husband calling from an exotic location …

You Can’t Have Children…part 3

This is Part 3 of You Can’t Have Children. Make sure you’ve read Part 1 & 2 before you continue.

As we sat in the parking lot, I could hear my heart pounding against my chest. My mind was racing. I wondered if I’d be cool enough. I was afraid my accomplishments wouldn’t measure up. I felt inadequate. Then a car pulled up 3 spaces over. A young couple appeared. Hesitant. Half smiles. With obvious apprehension. Table for 4 please. And there we were face to face sipping our cold soda’s when the birth mom quietly brought out a small pad of paper and pen and started asking questions. I answered until she seemed satisfied. The birth father hadn’t said …

You Can’t Have Children…part 2

Before you read this make sure you’ve read Part One so you get the whole story.

I arrived late on a Saturday afternoon, nervous but ready for the days ahead. Sunday morning went well and after lunch I invited some friends to the evening service. They came and brought a couple with a little baby. When I was introduced to their friends, I commented that their baby was cute. They thanked me and said they had just adopted him a couple months earlier. The next evening a gentleman purchased my CD and asked if I’d sign it. There’s a first time for everything. He gave me two names to address the CD to. I’m not sure why. but I asked

You Can’t Have Children…part 1

This is part 1 of a blog my husband posted on his site at www.RegiStone.com. You really ought to check his stuff out while before going any further! He has shared this story on his travels over the last 14 years so he tried to condense it and this is what he came up with. One day, we’ll capture it all in a tiny little book that you can read, share and eventually use as a paper weight. 

Some years ago we found out we couldn’t have children. That was tough to hear. And living with that reality was even harder. We thought the first Laparoscopy would take care of everything. Then the second. And yet a third. Have you

Because Fridays Are Beautiful Too!

Between packing and getting ready to move, I’ve been prone to tears for no apparent reason at the oddest times. Beautiful Thursday thoughts were difficult to come up with. So what if it’s Friday…you can still be beautiful today!

I began feeling melancholy (I love that word) Wednesday morning after Sophie left for her 7th grade class trip to St. Louis. Out of the blue, this thought came to me: How will I survive when she leaves for college…in six years? It’s like I’m supercharged and ready to pour emotion.

The nest is different when one baby bird is gone…ask any Mom. Sophie has been gone for 48 hours and I’m unusually aware that her music isn’t blaring …

A Brown Paper Bag

Something waits below the mundane of taking the kids to school, heading to the gym, sitting at a desk wishing you were home—do you see it? It’s called purpose. Sometimes you must search for the intention behind the action, but I assure you, it’s there.

For me it’s as though a Mack truck pulls into my driveway and blasts, “Can you hear me now,” because more often than not, I’m too busy to listen.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

It’s so much easier when you stop and listen.

Eli forgot his lunch last week. I didn’t notice the bag in the refrigerator until he called at 10:55 asking if I would bring it to him. There’s no chance he would buy what the …