Those Seeking Him (“The Name Devotional”)
Those Seeking You (“The Name Devotional”)
“And they will put their trust in You—those knowing Your Name—for You have not forsaken those seeking You, O YHWH.”
Psalm 9:10
What do we know?
What do we trust?
Where is The Name of The Most IN that?
There IS power and meaning in seeking Him.
Don’t underestimate it; He is calling you to know Him- and His Name- better!
(“The Name Devotional” Book Excerpt):
Abba,
I come to You, seeking You, seeking to know You, even AT Your Name.
There is no way You can be separated FROM it.
I know that I have not turned to and sought You as I should have.
I have believed other sins, lies, passions, and distractions more than I believed You were worthy of my pursuit.
Forgive me for that.
You know how I need You.
You know I ache for Your Love and a relationship with You that is as connected as You are TO Your very Name.
Help me to seek You with all of me, free from hypocrisy, apathy, and wrong motives.
I need Your help to do so.
Thank You for helping me, even where I am right now.
Meet me with Who YOU are.
Thank You.
Amen.
Return To Him
“Blow the trumpet in Zion; sound the alarm on my holy hill. Let all who live in the land tremble, for the day of YHWH is coming.”
Joel 2:1
In Honor of The Late Dolly Parton… (Cancerventures)
“O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,
In the secret place of the steep pathway,
Let me see your form,
Let me hear your voice;
For your voice is sweet,
And your form is lovely.”
Song of Solomon 2:14
(Cancerventures Book Excerpt):
…Adjusting to the New Normal:
Whenever a company comes out with an updated shampoo or laundry detergent, they usually tout it as “new and improved.”
I contrast that approach as I think of “new normal,” in my body, in my thoughts and in my life. I’m not thoroughly convinced it holds the same promise. I know I’m not April fresh or possess shiny hair because of my predicament.
But, again, the secret password. I take my stab at adjusting.
And, like everything else in a cancer situation, adjusting is a personal, individual experience. It’s another cancer snowflake; no two are exactly alike.
So, determine, as much as you can, what does that adjusting look like in your life?
We must adjust to different bodies, different routines, different people (mostly, it seems, medicine-y, cancer-occupied people now), different priorities revealing themselves however they do, different conversations which need to be had, and a different expectation of what our lives will and won’t look like.
That’s a lot to absorb from that one little secret password. And only you can seek out its meaning and answers. You may not get all of them. I’m still searching for mine.
Putting on Boobs and Bras Now:
I experience the luxury of deciding if it, indeed, is a “breast day.” Some days aren’t. Just flat, scar-chested me.
It’s good to have options. I choose the appearance of my chest now. I add the breast level I want for the day. I can go with my B cup breast forms or my built- in comfort bra versions. And I can even exercise the option of stuffing, to the point of Dolly Parton, my older double D bras with socks or Kleenex.
I can be anywhere from less than an A cup to a multiple D, all on my whim. This is quite the different power move for someone, who, for many years of her femininity, was bound to one unruly size of breast. It interfered with exercise, clothing, and personal comfort.
Now, with my choice of breasts, I can go wherever I want with them. They’re like a fashion accessory, like a pair of funky earrings or a statement necklace.
There’s no one or right way to be a female…
There’s your way, dear reader.
How do you want to live in your skin?
You have options, even if you’re one of those mastectomy/no reconstruction ladies. You’re still every bit feminine. Beautiful. Exciting.
Experiment. If you want to be boob-a-licious, go on. Go crazy with tube socks and the zany stuffing. Go without anything and experience how it feels to be you, without apparatuses.
Discover what this can mean to you. It’s brave, fun, and cheeky. You are in charge…”
Honey Bear (Thin Enough)
“You shall have no other gods before me.
You shall not make for yourself a graven image,
or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above,
or that is in the earth beneath,
or that is in the water under the earth;
you shall not bow down to them or serve them;
for I (Elohim) the Lord your (Most High) God am a jealous (YAH) God,
visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children
to the third and the fourth generation of those who hate me,
but showing steadfast love to thousands of those
who love me and keep my commandments.”
Exodus 20:3-6
The things we turn to. Apart from The Most High, are idols.
That includes our addictions, vices, disorders, obsessions, and passions.
And that can include our desperate attempts to cope.
Elohim wants us, right now, to turn to Him, to get closer.
An invitation and a challenge.
Will we take it?
Honey Bear
Most of us wouldn’t think twice about a honey bear.
And, likewise, most of us are familiar with the Biblical account of the golden calf the Israelites worshipped, just before Moses arrived with the Ten Commandments (Exodus 32:1-35). Impatient as they were, waiting for the blessings to hit their lives, they concluded if they created their own visible god, they’d be happier and finally have their dreams.
Eh… not so fast…
And that brings me to the innocuous honey bear.
At first glance, I’d never view it as an idol. As a child, I remember it was there with the maple syrup and the strawberry jam, sitting on my family’s kitchen table. That’s all.
But, as I spiraled into my eating disorders, as I reached the paralyzing lows of Anorexia and frantic desperation of Bulimia, I turned to an off the wall strategy: the honey bear, or more specifically, arts and crafts with the honey bear.
Please bear (pun intended) with me.
As I was struggling with my eating disorders, painful issues and stressors on full blast, I had the idea to distract myself. Yes, that was my answer. If I could just keep myself occupied enough, I’d be okay.
So, after my college classes, I turned to a honey bear I emptied on one of my recent binges.
I thought I’d do something creative with it and keep myself busy. I decided to spray paint the bear gold. That’s right, gold.
And, over time, that gold bear turned into several. I remember one Saturday, when my roommate’s boyfriend dropped by, the confused reaction as he saw me on the newspaper-covered floor, with at least ten honey gold honey bears drying out around me.
Just another college girl, huh?
I truly believed if I created enough of these artsy crafty gold bears, my problems would go away; I could be happy. I was desperate… and horribly wrong. I was no different than the calf worshipping Israelites, believing their created idol would answer their lives with happily ever after.
And then that didn’t happen. It was never the answer.
You’ve probably never spray painted a honey bear, but you’ve reached for something: alcohol, drugs, relationships, achievements, for example.
All are idols of some sort, because all these attempts try to replace The Most High in our lives. And He’s quite clear how He thinks about that approach:
“You shall have no other gods before me.
You shall not make for yourself a graven image,
or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above,
or that is in the earth beneath,
or that is in the water under the earth;
you shall not bow down to them or serve them;
for I (Elohim) the Lord your (Most High) God am a jealous (YAH) God,
visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children
to the third and the fourth generation of those who hate me,
but showing steadfast love to thousands of those
who love me and keep my commandments.”
Exodus 20:3-6
Years later, I see the futility and the insanity, believing my focus on the honey bear’s seeming artistic possibilities were the “cure” to my Anorexia, Bulimia and pain. I kept looking in the wrong direction.
“Go and cry unto the gods which ye have chosen; let them deliver you in the time of your tribulation.”
Judges 10:14
“What profiteth the graven image that the maker thereof hath graven it; the molten image, and a teacher of lies, that the maker of his work trusteth therein, to make dumb idols? Woe unto him that saith to the wood, Awake; to the dumb stone, Arise, it shall teach! Behold, it is laid over with gold and silver, and there is no breath at all in the midst of it.”
Habakkuk 2:18-19
And isn’t that really what addiction is, in the context of idolatry? The wrong direction?
Meanwhile, there is a RIGHT direction…
“My flesh and my heart faileth: but (The Most High) God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever.”
Psalms 73:26
“But it is good for me to draw near to (The Most High) God: I have put my trust in (Elohim) the Lord YAH, that I may declare all thy works.”
Psalms 73:28
“Remember the former things of old: for I am The Most High, and there is none else; I am The Most High, and there is none like Me,”
Isaiah 46:9
And there’s His response to our lives, struggles, addictions and disorders…
“He sent His Word, and healed them, and delivered them from their destructions.”
Psalms 107:20
To what are you seeking your deliverance? Idolatry of any kind never works. The Most High, however, does. Let’s choose Him for our lives.
It bears considering now, doesn’t it?
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
The Right Regrets
“Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.”
Arthur Miller, “The Ride Down Mt. Morgan”
Regrets.
One of the most painful, challenging, and life-altering realities in life.
The famous playwright’s sentiments have resonated most poignantly with me.
Especially concerning “the faith walk.”
Because, yes, “the faith walk” requires making weighty decisions. And sometimes, those decisions involve letting go, saying goodbye, leaving, and deciding that something or someone cannot walk where we walk IN our faith walk.
And that is painful.
That can feel like regret.
It can feel like the unfortunate, “no-win” situation we were placed in, or, sometimes, even, forced into.
We were occupying a moment, and we had to choose.
WHAT DID we choose?
What couldn’t- didn’t- wouldn’t- stay?
A relationship? A marriage? Children?
Family? Friends? A career? A dream?
Anything else that was important and meaningful to us?
It’s deeply personal. You can answer for yourself what that was for you.
Regrets.
It’s not easy.
And no one escapes… loss, now, DO they?
“Time and chance happen to us all.”
Ecclesiastes 9:11
How does that show up in your life?
What “time” are you in?
What “chance” has happened to you?
And we do have the reaction that we have TO whatever is happening in our lives.
Even being numb or apathetic is a reaction.
Whatever it is, it can make us fearful.
Resistant to change.
Struggling with grief and loss.
Because fear drives so much of our reaction.
“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear, because fear has punishment; and the one fearing has not been perfected in love.”
1 John 4:18
Fear involves torment.
We fear the reality of regret happening because of a choice we make.
We fear abandonment, loss, destruction, death.
We fear experiencing the exact life we do not want for ourselves.
We fear the unknown that comes WITH making that choice.
What leaves our lives, and can leave us, somehow, feeling “left behind.”
You have felt that before, many times, right?
Scripture has some pinprick hope TO that, however…
“And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for the sake of My Name will receive a hundredfold and will inherit eternal life.”
Matthew 19:29
It may feel like cold comfort, like a painful consolation prize, defeat, failure, and death.
But there IS purpose to something ending: person, place, or thing.
NONE of it is in vain, no matter what it may be or feel like.
“Now when they were filled, He says to His disciples, ‘Gather together the fragments having superabounded, so that nothing may be lost.’”
John 6:12
What fragments need some gathering for you?
What “regrets” need some gathering for you?
Let’s pray.
Abba,
I come to You, through Our Shepherd.
Your only begotten Son, Our Savior, יֵשׁוּעַ.
You know what I am regretting; You know what I am fearing regret-wise.
You know what looks like death, loss, a mistake, a high price paid, and something I did not want to let go of.
You know exactly what that is, and how I am responding.
Forgive me.
You have seen me turn to sin and unhealthy choices that do not glorify You.
You know what “this” means to me.
You know what torment, fear, pain, and grief this has caused.
Help me to trust You, to let go, even of this, In Your Name.
You know what You have decided for me.
Help me to live in Your Will.
Help me to heal; comfort me.
Show me Your Purpose and Your Love.
Thank You.
Amen.
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
Depression (Hello, Gentlemen…” )
We’ve heard it said that “depression is anger turned inward.”
Therefore, it’s not surprising that many inmates who are incarcerated are depressed.
Anger has turned inward.
Anger from abuse, neglect, poverty, and too many seemingly insurmountable obstacles has turned on these individuals, creating even more of a bleak portrait of their future.
It makes sense, then, what scripture tells us to visit those in prison...
“Remember those in prison as if you were bound with them, and those who are mistreated as if you were suffering with them.”
Hebrews 13:3
It’s even further amplified as Our Savior personalizes this directive even more…
“‘When did we see You sick or in prison and visit You?’ And the King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers (or sisters) of Mine, you did for Me.’”
Matthew 25:39-40
We never know what a gesture can do: a visit, a letter, a card. There are different ways that we can “visit.”
And depression can be alleviated.
Concerning these inmates, loving them, as Our Savior and Shepherd loves us, shouldn’t we do something to help?
(Hello, Gentlemen…” Book Excerpt):
…Are you depressed? Feeling like there is nothing ahead of you to hang onto?
How hopeless are you right now? How close are you to giving up?
A lot of people think that depression is all about sadness. And, yeah, there’s so much sadness to it.
But depression often starts out as anger.
“Does it do you well to be angry?”
Jonah 4:4…
…My mother was the obviously depressed one. She found herself trapped in an abusive marriage to my dad. She was stripped of so much: independence, freedom, creative outlets, and joy.
She became obese, eating too many traumas and painful feelings. She was stifled in her life.
Years ago, I discovered a diary she wrote when I was about five. In it, she wrote, at least three times, at different points, during the year, “I’m depressed.”
Unfortunately, like too many people out there, she never got the help she needed. Her obesity, eventually, created a massive stroke that took away her ability to walk, and placed her in a care facility for the rest of her life until her death.
She was angry: fearful, frustrated, and hurt with her life. She felt trapped, could not express that anger.
So, she turned it in the only acceptable direction she knew of: she turned it on herself.
Does any of that sound like what you do?
My mother was the “obviously” depressed person. Abused, feeling trapped, and obese.
Most people would look at her life, as a whole, and think, “yep, that tracks.”
But, like I said, I have “Mommy AND Daddy Issues,” now, don’t I?
So, let’s move on to “Dear Old Dad.” He was depressed, too.
But his depression may have been more difficult to spot. Maybe you can relate to him somewhat.
My dad was terrified of life. He was a bachelor until his late forties. Except for a brief stint, serving in World War II, my dad never lived anywhere else, except in the house he was born in, with his immigrant parents, and his eight siblings.
Yep. Eight. A motley crew, huh?
When my parents married, a shotgun wedding, mostly due to the reality of yours truly, he was still terrified. He did not know how to operate in relationships.
I am guessing he learned abuse from watching his parents. He put it into practice with Mom and me.
He raged. We usually never got “the warning shot.”
He just exploded in our direction. Destruction. Chaos. Fear. Pain…
“Remember those in prison as if you were bound with them, and those who are mistreated as if you were suffering with them.”
Hebrews 13:3
Amazon.com: "Hello Gentlemen...": 9798259016163: Cruse, Sheryle: Books
Desperate Disorders Call For Desperate Actions? (Thin Enough)
“For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice: but what I hate, that I do.”
Romans 7:15
College can often rupture disordered eating, food, and body image issues that have been lying more dormant for years.
Anorexia was the undeniable and explosive expression of family dysfunction, abuse, and toxic secrecy.
And when I was at the height of my Anorexic state, tipping over into My Bulimic behaviors, I was desperate.
I did things that I didn’t believe I’d ever do.
Desperate.
I was desperate.
With the prospect of young people going off to college, what desperation is already present, just not discussed?
(Thin Enough Book Excerpt):
Question: Are you angry with anyone, especially when they mention your eating habits and weight?
By the end of the summer, Mom’s pressure to eat was increasing. She made more hospitalization threats, telling me I was crazy. Anger welled up in me when she’d say things like that. I wanted to lash out at her, to hurt her back by screaming at her, “You’re what is wrong with me! The fact that I have to do this for you to pay attention to me, the fact that I have to work to earn your love and attention—that’s what’s wrong with me!” However, I just kept quiet, strengthening my resolve and waiting until glorious September when I would be free.
College finally came. I felt hope at the thought of freedom on my own terms. Things would be different. Now I could concentrate and be happy. I moved into an apartment with three roommates. Miraculously, I was able to be a functioning student, keep good grades and regularly attend my classes. I kept up the “okay” facade.
However, I couldn’t stop the changes going on in my body. It started out with a shift in my thinking. I found myself more obsessed and tortured by food. Suddenly I wanted food right now! And after all, I was eighty pounds. I could afford a little something to eat, right?
I was nervous. This went against everything I’d been working for. Do something on my forbidden list? Put weight on instead of taking it off? I would move closer to the fat, unacceptable me that I was trying so hard not to be. But my hunger went beyond a growling stomach. True starvation will make you entertain thoughts you wouldn’t dare think otherwise.
Question: Is food constantly on your mind?
Nothing else mattered anymore. Everything else was fuzzy around me: right and wrong, other people, God, consequences. Just food mattered. But things were different now. Innocence toward food was gone. I couldn’t simply “just eat” again. You can’t go back once you’ve been down my road. It’s never again quite as simple as “eat.”
I suddenly became aware of all the food around me: food that I had sworn off, food I’d forbidden. When my alone in our apartment, I was tortured by my roommates’ food. I was hungry. And I was tempted.
“Come on, just this once, and then you’ll get back on track.”
“Come on, your roommates will never miss this food. They’ll never know it’s gone. Besides, it’s just this once, and then you’ll get back on track.”
I’d always believed that stealing was wrong, one of the commandments, right? But I was so hungry, right and wrong didn’t matter.
Question: Do you want to eat but feel you don’t deserve food?
When I began eating (stealing) my roommates’ food, I felt warring emotions. Feasting on boxes of rice and crackers, granola bars, fistfuls of cereals, and ice cream bars felt wonderful. But I began to panic. Where would all of this show up on me? My straight hips? My twenty-inch waist? My hollow cheekbones? I wanted to protect the product of my hard work. Still, I couldn’t stop eating. Every time, I repeated my new vow, “I’ll do this just one time.” One time became always.
Question: Do you binge on food whenever you experience negative feelings?
“For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice: but what I hate, that I do.”
—The Apostle Paul in Romans 7:15
After each feast, I felt exhaustion, guilt, shame, and pain. My body wasn’t able to deal with this violent attack of food. I was literally stuffed with food. My stomach was extremely distended. I looked like a pregnant, malnourished refugee. My stomach was rock-hard and stretched beyond its limits. I was uncomfortable standing, sitting, walking, and breathing. I paced back and forth in my apartment, trying to get comfortable. I hated myself, and felt like the most horrible, disgusting person in the world. Who would want and love me now? What boy? What man? I even started to question—What God?
I moved into a new eating disorder. Every day, I’d start out weighing 80-something pounds. I would be tempted, gorge, panic, binge and weigh myself. Each time, I would shoot back up to ninety pounds again. My urgent prayer became “Oh God, no, help me. You know I can’t weigh this.”…
The Big Picture
Let’s talk about what we think we see.
Look at these two images.
A duck or a bunny?
A young woman or an old woman?
There is more going on than what we THINK we see.
“For the heavens are higher than the earth; so My ways are higher than your⁺ ways, and My thoughts than your⁺ thoughts. For as the rain comes down—and the snow—from the heavens, and from there it does not return until it has quenched the earth and made it bring forth and sprout, that it may give seed to the one sowing and bread to the one eating, so is My word that goes forth from My mouth: It will not return to Me empty until it has done that which I delight, and it will prosper for that which I send it.”
Isaiah 55:9-11
Let’s go a little further.
Let’s look at some classic art.
But not just any classic art.
Murals.
Murals are “the big picture.”
Artists, like Pablo Picasso and Michaelangelo have created some breathtaking, famous murals.
For instance, Picasso’s “Guernica.”
According to Wikipedia’s site, this mural measures11 ft 5 inches tall and 25 ft 6 inches across.
It’s a large mural.
If you were to see it in person, you would need to go to the Museo Reina Sofía in Madrid.
And, if you saw it, in person, and got REALLY up close and personal TO the mural, you might see something like this:
What are you looking at?
It’s hard to tell. And not just because Picasso typically painted noses is places where ears should be.
It’s because you are too close.
You are “in it.”
You cannot see “the big picture.”
You need to step back, even step away, somewhat, TO SEE it.
www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guernica_(Picasso)
Now, let’s go to Italy.
There’s some great art in Italy. And The Sistine Chapel is at the top of that list.
“The Sistine Ceiling,” created by Michaelangelo, according to Wikipedia’s site,is approximately 12,000 square feet, 131 feet in length and 43 feet wide. It is divided into nine panels depicting scenes from the Book of Genesis, including the famous “Creation of Adam.”
www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sistine_Chapel_ceiling
Michealangelo worked on that sucker from 1508 to 1512. And because, well, he was painting A CEILING, he had to paint it on his back.
(I can only imagine his back issues).
Anyway, like the mural “Guernica,” if you were to get up close and personal TO “The Sistine Ceiling,” probably hoisted up there with some crane and a seated swing, you would only see a small fraction of the masterpiece.
Like this…
Again, what are we looking at?
Is that a foot? An arm? A woman wearing blue?
It’s hard to tell.
We cannot get the full impact of Michaelangelo, unless we are back down to earth, looking up at the ceiling.
“The Big Picture.”
See the difference?
See Through a Glass Darkly?
“Now we see but a dim reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”
1 Corinthians 13:12
Then We Shall Know?
It’s maddening.
We want to know the answers to the questions we have right now.
And life- and The Most High- don’t operate like that.
“The Big Picture” requires that we await the telling of the entire story, the telling of our entire life mural.
That does not feel comfortable or comforting, does it?
We ARE His Workmanship…
“For we are His workmanship, having been created in יֵשׁוּעַ. Ha-Mashiach
(Christ Jesus) for good works, which YHWH prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.”
Ephesians 2:10
WE are the ultimate artwork of The Ultimate Artist.
Our lives, yes, our murals. They are a lot to take in.
It’s hard to see the complete picture, “the big picture.”
Nevertheless, they are being beautifully painted right now.
“Being persuaded of this very thing, that the One having begun a good work in you⁺ will complete it until the day of יֵשׁוּעַ. Ha-Mashiach (Christ Jesus).”
Philippians 1:6
Let’s pray.
Abba,
I come to You, through Our Shepherd.
Your only begotten Son, Our Savior, יֵשׁוּעַ.
You know the pain and the difficulty that is my life.
It’s hard for me to see what exactly is going on.
You know I’m confused, disheartened, anxious, and wanting so many answers.
Forgive me for not turning to You.
I know that You have created my life for a purpose, even if I don’t understand what that is.
Help me, teach me, lead me.
Thank You that I Can trust You with my life.
I entrust it to You, even as I only see a small glimpse of what You’re doing.
You will finish what You started.
Thank You.
Amen.
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
“Such a Pretty Face” (“Thin Enough”)
Is it a compliment or an insult?
How many of us have struggled with food, weight, and body images have heard this statement?
“Such a Pretty Face.”
You and I are already considered to be beautiful and valuable, in the Eyes of Someone Who matters the most: Elohim.
“Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes.”Song of Solomon 1:15
Face. Form. Spirit. Soul. Mind.
No distinction.
No qualifier.
“Such a Pretty Face”
When it comes to eating and image disorders, the lion’s share of attention goes to the body. It is about the physique: how large it is, how thin it is, sized up against any particular person and/or cultural image standard.
So, it appears, there is no attention given to the face.
Yet, within the eating disorder context, my negative experience with the punim was just as painful as the unforgiving perception of my body. And it started early.
As an overweight child, several adults repeatedly made the same comment. Perhaps you’ve had it spoken to you.
“… ‘You have such a pretty face, if you’d just lose some weight…’ This comment dangled the hope of beauty, and yet placed the blame on me… for not achieving it. It was my fault…”
(Excerpts taken from Cruse’s book, “Thin Enough: My Spiritual Journey Through the Living Death of an Eating Disorder”)
“Such a pretty face…”
To me, it is the epitome of the backhanded compliment. It has built-in judgment, expectation and pressure present, waiting on the owner of said “pretty face’s” response to “correct” the situation.
But sometimes, that results in an eating disorder. That’s how I responded, anyway.
For, each time that comment was made, I heard I was inferior. After all, adults made this statement. They knew what they were talking about. Certainly, they couldn’t be wrong. Therefore, I had to be.
So, whenever I looked at my face, I saw fat. My chubby cheeks were grotesque; any trace of a double chin was further evidence I was hopeless.
Yes, maybe, underneath these hideous layers of fat, I was, somehow, considered to be a “pretty face.” But it still didn’t change that, in the meantime, I possessed my ugly, overweight body, for which I had no excuse. If I were simply a better caliber of girl, the face and body could both be the way they were “supposed to” look.
So, as childhood grew into adolescence, I constantly dieted, attempting to make that happen. I had a gun-shy reaction each time someone called me pretty. I braced to hear the face qualifier. I waited for the “helpful” advice of the diet-and-fitness plan offered. I could never just rest in the pretty remark. There were strings attached. Those strings were always weight loss.
And, after many a failed diet and fitness regimen, come freshman year of college, my self-determined need to achieve “reinvention” dictated I must lose weight everywhere, in both face and form. No baby fat was seen as adorable or acceptable. Therefore, with commitment in place, I shed the much-detested weight before college’s start.
And, as I believed, I was reinvented. I was treated differently; I was treated better. Flirtation and compliments abounded in my new college life. And no “such a pretty face” comment was uttered. The reaction I received was genuine and sincere. I was intoxicated by this and even more determined. I could not lose this progress. I had to keep going. I needed to be even more chiseled, face included.
“… Each comment, lost pound, and lost inch gave me more of an incentive… I eventually became convinced that death—at least the look of starvation—was beautiful.I was envying the ‘beauty,’ the look of the malnourished, the tortured—even those in concentration camps… Each time I looked at myself in the mirror, all I saw was a fat baby picture of me with fat arms, legs and double chin. I’d spent most of my young life being that photograph. I’d do whatever was needed to make sure that it wasn’t the case now…”
So, I eventually dropped to a two-digit weight. And, with that emaciation, my gaunt face materialized. Sunken-in cheekbones and exaggerated “bug eyes” were just as evident as my jutting collarbone and thin limbs. It was difficult to know, exactly, what people were freaking out the most to concerning my appearance: my face or my body. I received numerous horrified gasps and stares from adults, as well as pointing fingers from filter-less children.
Yet, I reveled in my thin being, whether it was body or face. It was a revenge payback to all of those individuals who burdened me with “such a pretty face.” Do you see how pretty I am now? Deal with THAT. I dare you.
With anger and other toxic unresolved issues driving my behavior, I eventually morphed into my bulimic phase, which, very quickly, brought on weight gain. Physiologically ravenous, as well as emotionally desperate, frustrated and suicidal, I became an eating machine, scrounging college dumpsters and stealing my roommates’ food. I was out of control in a different way now.
It was devastating as I underwent weight gain in both my body and my face. I had ample experience with an overweight body before. That was familiar despair.
But the face changes seemed to have a pain all its own. “Such a pretty face” now roared back, putting me in my place for ever even daring believe I could be worthy.
And, I had a daily, constant reminder from which I could not escape. As I gained weight, I could cover my body. I could hide under baggy sweatshirts and layers. But my face? That was out there, changing, distorting, for everyone to see. I could not avoid that.
“…Puffy ‘chipmunk’ cheeks replaced the hollow, defined cheekbones I’d worked for… I’d lost my sharp jawline and had acquired a double chin. Each morning I woke up and starred in horror at this fat girl’s face…”
The English proverb asserts “the eyes are the window of the soul.”
But, that is the tip of the iceberg concerning disordered eating and image issues. For, we often underestimate the face’s importance in its telltale symptoms of a troubled individual. Written here, on their face, we can also see the afflicted mind, personal will and unhealthy emotions which drive the life-threatening disease. As hallmarks of an eating disorder, we look for the skeletal limbs and the underweight body. But how much time and attention are spent considering the face?
With anorexia, it may be easier to detect the disorder, as, again, we go to the obvious thin criteria. A face is just too gaunt to be thought of as healthy or unaffected.
But bulimia and ednos (eating disorders not otherwise specified) may be more easily disguised in matters of the face. Still, symptoms which point to disorder are there, if we know what to look for.
Medical experts studying eating disorders confirm swelling and puffiness exist because of swollen salivary glands (parotid glands). It’s indicative of purging.*
So, to focus only on the body, at the exclusion of the face, for a valid diagnosis, is to do a disservice to the sufferer.
Disorder involves the entirety of the person: spirit, mind, body and yes, face. Do we take that into account as we each comfortably associate for ourselves what an “eating disorder” looks like?
There’s more to disordered eating and image issues than what we assume. And, when we make any cavalier statement about someone’s appearance, be it body or face, we can never tell just how that may trigger an individual. “Such a pretty face” can be the beginning of a painful, difficult lifetime of self-rejection or oppressive qualification.
“Such a pretty face” is not a harmless comment. We need to stop seeing it as such.
*“Subtle Signs of Eating Disorders,” Amanda Gardner; www.health.com/health
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
“Princess” (“Thin Enough”)
https://sherylesearchesscriptureetc.wordpress.com/2026/08/31/princess-thin-enough/
On August 31st, 1997, we lost Princess Diana.
It was a great loss. She was "The People's Princess."
She had a heart. She suffered.
And, even a Princess, this Princess, suffered from eating disorders.
The "Thinspo" Movement on social media often refers to those who are pursuing emaciation as a goal as "Princess."
We ARE "fearfully and wonderfully made" already, Princess- value ALREADY!
As you think of her, on the anniversary of her passing, think ALSO of your inherent value, eating disorder or not!
The Most High loves you, and He is helping you RIGHT NOW!
Be blessed and returned to FULL HEALTH: Spirit, Mind, Soul, and Body!
Buck Up? No, Bruised Reed
“I am faint and sore bruised: I have groaned by reason of the disquietness of my heart.”
Psalms 38:8
All of us are vulnerable to getting our deep painful circumstances mishandled.
Many of us, recovering from violation can get further harmed, as someone downplays, dismisses, or further insults us about our experiences.
It’s re-traumatizing.
Maybe they meant to do it; maybe they didn’t.
Nevertheless, The Most High wants to heal us. He sees how broken we are.
He sees the bruise.
Buck Up? No, Bruised Reed – Sheryle Searches Scripture Etc.
You Shall Show To Be in The Wrong (“Just Violated?”)
“‘Every weapon formed against you will not prosper, and every tongue that rises against you in judgment, you will prove wicked. This is the inheritance of the servants of YHWH, and their righteousness is from Me!—' A declaration of YHWH.”
Isaiah 54:17
I love this scene from the film classic, “Baby Face” (1933), starring the late great,Barbara Standwyck.
A spiritual cup of hot coffee poured on the lap. Yes, indeedy.
And here is where Scripture meets the road of… inappropriate behavior and/or… rape jokes?
This is not a case of it being “just a joke.”
Violation of another human being is NOT funny.
It’s violating, dehumanizing, sin, and needing to be called to the carpet.
Hence, Isaiah 54:17…
“‘Every weapon formed against you will not prosper, and every tongue that rises against you in judgment, you will prove wicked. This is the inheritance of the servants of YHWH, and their righteousness is from Me!—' A declaration of YHWH.”
If you experienced anything like a rape joke, inappropriate behavior, including, but not limited to, coercive control, sexual harassment, and sexual assault, anything unwanted, you did NOT deserve that.
You are too valuable to be at the mercy of those unacceptable behaviors and choices of others.
They deserve that spiritual coffee cup you proving them wrong.
Spill that coffee, then!
Speak up, even in speaking to yourself.
What happened TO you should not have happened to you!
It was Not Acceptable, Appropriate, OR Funny!
You are Too Valuable IN Our Father’s Eyes and Heart For THAT!
(“Just Violated?” Book Excerpt):
…Now let’s move on to the second experience, one of too many. But this one was a doozy.
It had inappropriateness, entitlement, and rape-y overtones all over it, in my opinion.
It involved me, at my transferred college.
As a theatre major, I was involved in the college stage productions. Nothing earth-shattering about that.
After rehearsal, one Friday night, my theatre comrades and I went to a local college bar. Nothing earth-shattering about that.
I had one or two drinks, I think. Other guys from the play were more lubricated.
And feeling it.
As I was sitting at the bar, two of these guys started chatting with me.
I knew them. I worked with them on different productions. We were in the same theatre classes together. We were “friends,” or at least “theatre acquaintances.”
Entitled To…
Because of their buzzed nature, they were in good spirits. They started joking with me…
“Hey, let’s get Sheryle impregnated.”
They both were so amused at that statement...
Abba Father-
We come to You, in The Name of Our Savior, Yahshua.
You know every moment we have lived and survived.
You know all about the abuse, the coercion, the rape, the unwanted situation that we had to deal with. You know EXACTLY what the violation was.
Help us with that, as so much confusion, fear, and guilt have been attached to what happened.
Restore us and help us to heal.
Reassure us with Your Love, patience, and kindness.
Lead us to the safe people who can actively walk us through this.
We need your help. Help us to move forward, with Your Guidance.
Thank You.
We receive it all, by faith, and with a grateful heart now, In Yahshua’s Name.
Amen.
What was it that I was born into? What was it that I endured?
What WAS I “a product of?”
Rape? Abuse? Violence?
(“Just”) Violation?
Amazon.com: (“Just”) Violated?
Antlers
“My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my persecutors!”
Psalm 31:15
(Cancerventures Book Excerpt):
I pay attention to my physical being a lot more now. Anything new going on? Do I feel sick? Do I feel like something is growing that shouldn’t be? Do I feel more tired? Is that pain or sensitivity supposed to be that way?
After all, everyone responds/heals differently.
Is that all that is? Me just responding/healing in that unique way? I’m not erupting into another deadly cancer?
Physically, I mostly experience the weird sensation around my scar site. I have asked surgeons, Firefly Sisterhood Guides, and every specialist I’ve encountered, “Is this normal?”
And that’s usually when I hear, “Well, everyone is different; everyone heals differently.”
Yeah, I know that already. But there needs to be some baseline of standard mastectomy recovery, something in the vicinity of “nothing to see here.” Give me something, please! At least tell me I won’t be sprouting antlers from my scar site! Something!
“Well, everyone responds differently…”
Ah, forget it! I’ll just be nervous! And await the antlers…
…Body Changes and Antlers:
Another no-brainer, but yes, we need to prepare for a different life and body after diagnosis. Certainly, after such treatments as breast surgery (or surgeries) and radiation.
I had mistakenly believed once I had my bilateral mastectomy, the only major physical change would be that I’d have no breasts. It’s a little more complicated than that.
We also need to prepare for a difference in feeling: the lack of breast weight, the way the skin feels. That can be a numb sensation, a tighter chest feeling, or some irradiated swelling.
And if reconstruction enters the picture, well, there’s a whole array of differences, feelings, complications, and “new body adjustments” to take in.
Please just know you will notice your body feels different, beyond lump or breast removal. You and I are going to have to learn how to inhabit this skin now.
One cannot be too fussy in this area, in my opinion. Ask repeatedly any questions you have. Bother your treatment team; bug your doctors. Mention concerns. Do what you can to rule out fears of dreaded outcomes.
Yes, it’s a pain to be so hyperaware. Most of the time, a sensation is harmless, just part of your new normal. Still, when in doubt, ask.
And keep an eye out for the antlers.
So far, I’m in the clear.
TAG! You’re It! (“The Name Devotional”)
When was the last time you played tag?
When was the last time you wore a name tag?
You know those labels we slap on ourselves, identifying ourselves to a group of strangers?
Well, What Is HIS Name?
The Big HIM?
Beyond “God?”
Beyond “Jesus?”
What is in a Name, HIS Name?
He wants us to know Him better.
And it starts with His Name, right?
Tag! You are invited to BE “it!”
What’s in a Name?
What’s in HIS Name?
How Do We Address Him?
Scripture Mentions His Name.
What Does That Mean To Him?
Freddi Washington (“IF You Know?”)
“It is the Glory of The Most High to conceal a thing: but the honor of kings is to search out a matter.”
Proverbs 25:2
If You Know?: Cruse, Sheryle: 9798272042019: Amazon.com: Books
Bette Davis’ Pity For Me? (Cancerventures)
“How beautiful you are, my darling!
Oh, how very beautiful!
Your eyes are like doves.”
Song Of Solomon 1:15
(Cancerventures Book Excerpt):
…As I was recovering from this cancer-related stuff: diagnosis, testing, surgery, radiation, fear, dread, and me-specific fussiness, I went down the YouTube rabbit hole: cute animals, BBC documentaries and Phil Donahue talk show episodes from the 1970s and 1980s.
One day, I happened upon a 1987 Donahue show featuring the Hollywood legend, Bette Davis. She was plugging her second memoir, “This ‘N That,” discussing her later years and health challenges; this included her Breast cancer diagnosis and her mastectomy.
Well, now, my ears really perked up.
I felt she was quite nonchalant about her removed breasts. I don’t know if that was the elderly candor we often encounter from older people. I don’t know how much of it was just Bette being Bette. Whatever it was, she, indeed, spoke of how, because this happened later in her life, it wasn’t as difficult for her. She had already lived that part of her life in which beauty, glamour, romance, and relationships would have perhaps required more so her to have breasts.
She insisted, now, as a person, in her 70s, she didn’t need them.
She also stated how she felt sorry for young women who had to go through the diagnosis and the mastectomy.
So, would Bette Davis feel sorry for me?
Would she view me as this “young woman,” with, supposedly, so much
life ahead of her?
I cannot say for sure.
Regardless, as far as (Hubby) goes concerning me now, post-mastectomy, of course, he’s tried to be loving, supportive… and complimentary.
He has helped me change my bandages and measure the drain output, post-surgery. He has seen enough of my mastectomy chest, walking around greasy, covered in Aquaphor, waiting to dry enough so I don’t ruin yet another t-shirt. He never has shown a look of horror or disgust. At least, I haven’t seen it.
He seems unfazed…
Vultures? (“IF You Know?”)
