Babies and Birthdays

My birthday is coming up in a few days.  Forty-two.  I will be turning forty-two years old.

Birthdays are an odd mile marker time to stop and evaluate life.  We size up the events of the year prior, and look to the year ahead.  We're acutely aware of all the things that still haven't happened, we still haven't achieved, we still haven't changed.  I have always struggled with my birthday, birthdays have always been hard for me, for as long as I can remember.

In my life I have spent a lot of time thinking about the age I am currently at, and how where I am currently at in life, is no where near where I thought I would be, or certainly should be at at that particular age.

I'm a type A, highly organized, controller - and my life has not gone as I had planned it would go.  I'm often reminded of the saying "My life can be summed up in one sentence... well, that did not go as planned!"

When I was in Junior High, I never dreamt I would be looking forty-two in the face and not have a house full of kids, filling various ages, rooms in our house, and scattered through High School, Middle School and Elementary school buildings.  I never dreamt I would survive a traumatic miscarriage, deal with years of infertility, and go through a divorce in my twenties.  I would have never dreamt I would remarry and spend my entire thirties continuing to deal with infertility and adopt a child.  I would have never dreamt I would finally get pregnant and then have to bury that baby in my forties.  That right there, is the stuff of nightmares, not of Junior High dreams.

And I know I'm not alone.  I know each one of us deals with life's disappointments and unexpected events and diagnosis's.  My nearest and dearest friends struggle with the reality of being single and are looking at their forties not far off.  In Junior High their dreams were also full of love, marriage, and lots of babies.  And as their birthdays continue to come and go, they also face the reality of unanswered prayers, hopes, and dreams.

Some days it all just makes me weep.  It makes me angry.  It makes me frustrated.  My dear dear friends and I are not bad people, we are not asking for bad things, we are not setting our hopes on frivolous dreams - the emptiness we are asking to be filled are with legitimately good things, so why is God not choosing to fulfill and fill those requests?

Even though deep inside, what I've learned over and over through the years, is that is just how life works.  That is how God chooses to weave His magic.  It's how He continues to wake us up and call us close to Him time and time again.  He sets us up over and over to fall off the edge of sanity, wash our hands completely of His grace and walk away... But it's at our lowest of lows that He does his highest of highs work.  Our eyesight in the moment is always utterly blinding, but our hindsight is always 20/20.  He is always there in the inner workings of our life.  He is continually drawing us close to Him, asking us to trust Him... no matter what, no matter how sucky, no matter how hard.  He ultimately is in control, and we have to somehow just trust He knows what He's doing.  Easier said than done.

And now as I'm looking at this new number looming ahead, I also know it's time to end a really large chapter in my life, in our lives.  When we lost Faith, I was forty years old.  We had basically given up hope of achieving pregnancy, yes... but it was more something we had just "loosely" let go of.  It wasn't "official".  When we saw that tiny little heartbeat on the tv monitor in that dark room, suddenly everything changed.  My husband and I, together, had created a life.  Something God had not previously granted us through all those years of trying.

God surely had a different plan for our little girl than we did.  He wanted her beside him in Heaven before we got to have her beside us here on earth.  There was a plan and purpose to it, and some days that is easier to comprehend and accept than others.  But even though we lost her, we had in fact created her, and suddenly we had new hope.  New hope of it possibly happening again...

After losing her, we would return to the doctors office for a long conversation about what to do next.  What were the options, what were the odds, what were the statistics, what should we set our hopes on this time?  Could we be assured her Trisomy 18 was absolutely not genetic and not going to happen again? Most people are done having their babies before forty.  Forty is that scary age of down syndrome and dried up eggs.  Babies in their forties means nearly sixty by their graduation.  This conversation was much different than one we would have had ten years prior.  Losing a baby in your twenties or thirties (in my mind) still allows you to have time and hope to get pregnant again.  In your forties however, that all looks very different.  We looked at numbers, we talked about options, and in the end we gave ourselves two more years of "trying".  We would not dive back in hard-core with some of the all-or-nothing fertility treatment options possibly still available to us, but we would continue forward with injections, smaller scale treatments, charting, recording, timing...  We decided to extend our hope two more years.

Twenty-three months have now passed since we said goodbye to our Faith MaryJo.  Twenty-three months have passed without another positive pregnancy test.  In two weeks I will reach that fateful number, and I know the time has come.  It is time, after almost nineteen years, to finally choose to have to be done.  I have used the excuse and blamed and cursed God for the last nineteen years for not granting my wish, not answering my prayers the way I wanted them answered.  And now it's time to fully accept that He is not, and will not be fulfilling and filling that huge void in my life with a biologically ours, red haired, blue eyed, little baby.

This is, in fact, the God destined plan for my life, whether it's what I would have chosen or not.

I have to figure out how to come to grips with this final chapter of my fertility.  It is finally time to be done, and it's time to finally just be ok with it.  And to be honest, that is hard.  After all these years - even though we had basically accepted the given reality, we still allowed ourselves to always hang on to that tiny thread of hope.  It's time to open my tightly little clutched fist, that is still desperately clinging to that one last tiny little tread still in my hand, and let it go.  Let. It. Go. Forever.

Has he granted me a husband? You bet (ummmm, two in fact, as horrible as that is to say). Has he granted me a family?  You bet, I have two wonderful sons - one almost twenty and one almost nine.  He has also granted me two other pregnancies which ended before their births.  I know I have to continue to trust His plan for my life, for our families lives... but that is not always easy.  It's not ever easy if I'm completely honest.  It's time to fully focus on all that I have, rather than all that I was never given.

My mind knows the truth of God's goodness and ultimate sovereignty, my heart and soul however still selfishly longs for more, still cringes when I hear pregnancy announcements, still aches when I see little babies in the church pews ahead of me.

I did not choose this, but God did.  God chose me. He chose to create me, to forgive me, to bless me beyond anything I possibly deserve.  He did not take Faith from us, or leave our prayers unanswered as punishment for any of our earthly sins.  He merely wants us to continually come to Him, cling to Him, trust and worship Him through the highs and lows of our lives.  He wants us to live a life that honors and glorifies Him - even through the hard.  Especially through the hard, because that is when loving God and worshiping Him fully is at its hardest.

So I shall take a deep breath and try figure out how to face my birthday with my chin up.  I will continue to process the steps of closure to this unanswered chapter in my life, in our life, with as much grace and poise as I can muster in the moment.  I will try give God praise and glory for MY life, thank him for continuing to wake me up each morning, ensuring me His work through me is not yet done.

It's a delicate balance, this thing called life.  While we long for control as we plan our days and futures, we ultimately know it's not ours for the making.  It's really only ours for the taking, for the receiving.  It's what we choose to do with what we're given, and what to choose to give back to God, to the world, and to others that is ultimately our gift and our reward.

It's also what we choose to do with what we are not given that is the much harder part of our journeys to figure out and gracefully continue on through.  It's the outlook, the attitude, the surrendering of self that ultimately shows our true character and God's greater design for our lives, stories, and purposes.

Missed our Journey to Faith story?  start HERE.

{ next blog click here }

New Running Shoes

A new pair of running shoes just arrived at my door.  They are actually still in the box, inside the shipping box.  I was excited to order them, and now I'm a little hesitant to even acknowledge their existence.

I'm one who does not actually consider herself self "athletic" ~ I "run" but I am not a "runner."  I don't usually have the cute matchy matchy tight fitting workout clothes or the fancy expensive shoes.  But over the years I have tried to make sure I get myself in a new pair of running shoes every season. A few years ago would I run my cheap shoes until the bottoms fell off, literally... and ultimately my feet were the ones that paid the greatest price.  Several years ago I embraced the turning point of realizing the value and importance of an expensive running shoe.

As I think about those shoes in the box, I can't help but wonder what adventures we will have together.  How many miles will we run and walk together in this summer?  Will these finally be the shoes that I run a half marathon in?  What vacation, sights, memories, will these shoes carry me to and through?  It's actually quite exciting really, and yet I know it will be a bit before I actually get them out of the box and on my feet.  I'm the same way every year.

Breaking in new running shoes is sometimes a bit of a task.  I've come to love my current shoes.  We've created a bond, an attachment over the last two plus years.  (I didn't get any new shoes last year because I basically didn't exercise the majority of last year...) And while change is good, change isn't always easy.  They'll hurt my feet for the first several outings.  My heels will bleed, my toes will ache, my bunions will probably flare up. They will make me question why I should even put in the effort of attempting to run or exercise.  They will initially whisper sweet nothings in my ear trying to convince me to just leave them in the box, in the closet, unused, unworn.  They will tell me it's perfectly fine to not exercise anymore. But as I start wearing them more and more, they will in time form to my feet, loosening and stretching to just where they need to be, to allow me the comfort and support I need as I lace them up and head on out.  In time, they will change those tiny whisperings of failure to words of encouragement, egging me to slip them on, lace them up, and take them out for a good pavement pounding.

It is my prayer they will fit well and our transition and relationship with each other will grow quickly.  Soon the old shoes will become just that, the "old" shoes.  The shoes I'll grab that might get dirty, that might get wet, that might be a little more abused than carefully loved.

Why is it that we often have a hard time of letting go of our tried and true, our trusted and rusted go-to favorites?  Why is it so easy to just hold on to the old and continue to put off, push off, the new?  I know it's human nature, everyone struggles with change.  No matter how openly you embrace the overall concept of it, no matter how it's colored or covered, change is hard.  We often think it will be much easier to just leave life in the box, close the lid, and keep on wearing the old shoes. It will surely be easier, safer, and hurt less.

But that new and shiny option of small scale change, is usually exactly what we need to keep us going forward, to keep us on track, and to keep us fresh and up-to-date.  It helps keep us current, keeps us better maintained, and keeps our minds and bodies open and fresh.  We must continually embrace the opportunities and steps of change on the smaller scale, so we will also continually practice and embrace the larger scale steps of change in our lives as they arrive.

Change isn't always easy.  Change isn't always wanted, but change is often needed.  It's the tricky catalyst that helps continue us forward in life, helps continue our openness, our mental toughness, and our growth.

So perhaps today needs to be the day I finally open the boxes, saw hello to those new beauties - those future new best friends of mine, lace them up, and put in our first small workout together.

{ next blog" Babies and Birthdays" post here }
{ previous "Mess Stress" blog post }

"That Kind of Family"

~~~ Flashback Post from July 3, 2013 ~~~
This was from my old Crane Chronicles blog, and fitting with the Mess Stress blog I just posted.

So... I had my dad stop by to help with a few things around the house, since my husband's only job right now is to heal and recover from his recent back surgery.

You know... trim some trees, blow up my bicycle tires, attempt to remove (for the second year now) a tree growing up the side of our house (we'll need vegetation killer for it? seriously, what's that?) give advice on a wild maple tree coming up in our raspberry patch [meaning - HE will either need to remove it entirely or move it and plant it somewhere else in our yard]... not everything got done in one night, so I'm sure he'll be back... we didn't get the van washed (it seriously only gets washed once a year - right before we leave on vacation [I am deathly afraid of car washes]) or get my hair out of my shower drain [sorry - I know it's my hair, but I cannot.do.it.] And of course he was busy pulling all our weeds out of our landscaping rocks and foundation. We do not garden! We have zero plants, flowers, "landscaping" or neat lights or strategic large boulders. ...Just rocks around the front of the house... And we can't even properly maintain those...  Ugh!

Our siding has dings. Our paint on our doorways is peeling. The paint and shingles on my covered bridge need maintenance. The logs in our window wells need some hammering and tlc. Our inside windows all need new stain and vanish. As I followed him around, feeling like a little girl running after her daddy again... I found myself feeling embarrassed... so lazy, so inadequate as a home owner in the shadow of his busyness and over-enthusiasm of lifes expertise. He's modeled so much more than I am when it comes to home ownership. I felt like I have let him down, and it makes me sad.

He attempted to look for a tool on my husband's side of the garage - and couldn't even find enough open footing to move around on that side. I was ever aware of the mess... the utter state of failure at our house upkeep.

Then he stepped in to the house. The counters are littered with stuff - as well as the floors and piano bench, end tables, ect ect... Part of the problem is we seriously have a five year old hoarder in the house. Every box from every toy, every paper, every project from school and daycare cannot be thrown away. I try ~ he checks both the garbage and recycle bin every single day to be sure nothings been thrown away ~ and will have a fit and dig out anything he may find that I have tried to get rid of. One of these days I will find the time and energy to attempt to tackle some of it - and hopefully have enough energy to deal with the aftermath when he gets home. Remember, he's the child that remembers and knows where e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. is...

But as I stood there - I felt ashamed of the state of our house. We never invite anyone over... In fact in over nine years of marriage ~ I think we've invited friends over less than eight times.

Yea, we're "that kind of family..." You know the ones that barely get their lawn mowed when it needs it - and doesn't do one thing more. Cleans the garage just enough to park in it - and not one thing more. Tries to clean the house - but absolutely can't keep up with everyone home and running a full time cake decorating business 24/7 in it.  I just don't have the time or energy to do one more thing. But yet, we camp, we hunt, we fish, we vacation. We have "hobbies" and other things we love to do, which we justify as ok, while just leaving the rest of it all go...

I hate living in clutter. But the reality is that my standards are at an entirely different level than the other three living in this house with me. I'm left to either do it nearly all myself, or just change my expectations of both myself and of them, and just "settle" on a lower standard and continuing as "that kind of family"... Which is both "ok" and "not ok"... I've learned in the last thirty-eight years that expectations... MY expectations... are usually a little too high and a little too unattainable for all those involved, and life really may run a little (or a lot!!) smother without them...

I just wish we could all figure out a happy "meet-in-the-middle" spot... ;-)
And in the meantime, I'm just grateful my dad only lives a few miles away and stops to try help out a little bit every now and again :-)

{ next blog post }

I Don't Want To Want

~~ Flashback Post from Friday, October 5, 2012~~~

This was from my old Crane Chronicles blog, and fitting with the Mess Stress blog I just posted.

why do we have what we have?
why do we keep what we keep?
why do we long to attain more yet find ourselves suffocating in the excess we already have?
how do you take all the "stuff" in your possession and downsize?

oh - the life long saga within me rears it's ugly head again.

I stand in the middle of my house and slowly just look around
trying to really "see" everything that's there.
It's always amazing to me how I have to stop and consciously "look" to really "see"
all the junk and the clutter and the piles that have somehow over time,
basically become... invisible.

Not really invisible, but there for so long, you just stop "seeing" it.

When I get busy, I tend to get lazy
Or at least that's what I tell myself.
I stop taking the time to sort and clean - and just start to stack and pack.

Internally I do not do well amid "mess". The busier I am, the more tired I am, the less cleaning I can fit in. The mess grows, the dust grows, the blinders to it all grows.
And then one day, it all becomes overwhelming...
And it does not help that my cleanliness expectations are much higher than the other three
individuals who also live under this roof, all with their own large accumulations of "stuff".
It's really all just a sad and frustrating situation.

Funny, you'd never guess I was a clean freak if you were to actually stop over.
Perhaps that's why we never have anyone over.

Well, I've learned something about myself over the years.
I cycle - I rev into insanity and then totally hit rock bottom.
I swear I have to change and take the proper steps to "start fresh"...
I slow down a bit... and the more I slow down the more "aware" I become.
Aware of the dust... the piles... the papers... the stacks... the boxes... the toys...
all of it - everywhere...
And the more aware, the more annoyed and unsettled I get with myself.

I long to have less... to desire less... to simplify to the extreme.
I don't want to want. Honestly - I do not want to want. But I do.
I want things on a very personal and selfish level
and I want things on a giving and loving level with / for my family.

There are so many with so little, and I have so much.
And yet amid my "so much" I still feel the current financial strain of "so little"...
Which in reality, I also realize, my finances are "so much" in comparison to so many others around the world, causing the stir of guilt over all my personal materialistic struggles.

Oh why is this haves / wants / needs / desires / possessions such a tricky tricky thing to balance?

In 2011 I gave myself a challenge to get rid of 30 items a day for 30 days.
I do believe it time to take on this lofty challenge yet again.

And please Lord, if it be your will, help me not to want.

Anyone else willing to join me?
Surely I am not alone in this struggle...

{ next blog post }

Mess Stress

The boxes have officially arrived...

I rescued several large boxes from the work recycle pile and brought them home.  First they will be filled and juggle around the contents of our kitchen.  Then they will be re-used and filled and juggle around the contents of my closet.

It is time, and I am overwhelmed.  I am overwhelmed with the stress that messiness around me causes me, even when I know in the end the improvements will be worth it.

My house is FAR from neat and tidy.  There are always piles of papers on various counters and surfaces.  There are always boxes of something setting around.  There are always little piles of this-and-that neatly (often not-so-neatly) cluttering our house at all times.  I long for order, but I do not have the time, the patience, the stamina, the help, to attempt to stay ahead.  As my husband sits on the couch holding the tv remote, he assures me time and again that our house is not as bad as I think.  And perhaps it isn't, but it does cause me stress and unrest on the inside, which in turn can cause snappy and snippy on the outside.  The last two years I have been trying very hard to let go of my perfection expectations and overwork tendencies, but apparently I still have some more work to do inside on this little issue in my life ;-)

Truth be told, I could and should probably get rid of over half the contents of our house. But we're not moving, so I don't. This is another struggle I go through year after year after year.  I struggle all the time with "stuff" - the stuff that I allow to fill my house and my life which leaves me at a battling crossroads between contentment and insanity.  I have it, but I don't usually need it, and I often don't have room for it, but I go ahead and get it and / or keep it anyway.  It's just easier.  At least that's what I tell myself... but is the stress that that mess causes me actually worth it?

How much freer and lighter and happier and cleaner would my house be, would my life be, without all this "stuff"?!?  Of course I already know the answer.  And yet... here I sit surrounded by "stuff" and needing to do deep regulation breathing to keep myself from completely flipping out.

All along I have used the "well, we aren't moving, so I'll just keep it" excuse.  And then one day the beautiful trees in our backyard came down, and great excavation began... and now when I look out my window I see the back of a strip mall, next to a new gas station.  I swore to myself I would never publicly complain about this... but it has left my husband and I at a crossroads as to what to do about where we live.  My husband builds beautiful houses for a living... he could build us something amazing.  But that would cost money, and it will also greatly impact our strategic future planning of someday retiring and living in a full-time lake home.  And even more than the money issue... for me it's a stress issue.  The thought of what would be involved in even considering getting our house ready to put on the market, listing, showing, selling, and then the reality of packing, moving and unpacking... oh dear, I almost pass out from just starting to try think about it.

I can't even...  so I won't.   After much discussion, and even looking at a few lots available in town, we have decided to "Love It instead of List It." Yes, I watch too much HGTV, but it's our reality.  So now that we have embraced that decision, we have begun the process of "loving it" again.  Which means, it's home improvement time at our house.  We put in a fireplace and feature wall.  Next we will be getting new countertops and redoing our laundry area.

I want the improvements, but I don't want to do the work or pay the money required to achieve those improvements.  The amount of work I know I have before me in prep, packing, and patience leaves me uncomfortably edgy.

Home improvement means mess. It means inconvenience.  It means making some decisions, spending some money, and still packing some boxes - cleaning and shuffling, keeping what is good and needed, getting rid of that which is not.  It means choosing contentment, choosing to stay - but also choosing to improve, update, clean, and better.

It's just like the journeys of our lives.  We always have the option to change or to stay status quo.  Sometimes it's time for the big moves, sometimes it's time to stay put, and sometimes it's time to stay but embrace the inconvenience and hard work of making some needed improvements.  To turn up and tune up our personal vibrancy, updating our approach and outlook to this life God has given us to live.

So I have begun to pack the boxes in my kitchen so my husband can move in and start the update next week.  I'm trying to push myself to get rid of things quietly resting in the dark corners of my cupboards that I don't use often enough to justify and allow them to continue to take up the space they consume.  (Of course this means we're going to want waffles next week now that I've gotten rid of the waffle maker we use once a year).

It's all making me uptight, stressed, irritable... and I stopped and tried to figure out why.  More deep breathing...  The extreme mess of improvement is uncomfortable, inconvenient, and often costly.  It's taking things out of dark places and putting them outside, on top, into the light for awhile during the process of cleaning, changing, refining.  And it's knowing that the work will never be done.  As soon as one project is complete, there will always be something else... there will always be something else.

How many little things (and big things) are quietly resting inside us that we need to slow down long enough to actually see, pick up and examine, and decide to either finally part with it and free up the space, or get it out, dust it off, change it up a little, and start using again. What gifts, talents, grievances, angers, habits, do we need to do some home improvements to in our own lives?  And are we willing to take the time and investment to endure the messy process of ultimate improvement?

At times this quest and hope for personal improvement can get so overwhelming we want to stop, to quit, to run away.  But we can't quit... we need to figure out how to continue forward, somehow ~ someway... to continue to work on the projects at hand... work on reaching the goal, the completion for this moments required work, and then continue all they way through the cleanup process afterwards.  It always has to get worse before it gets better.

If we allow ourselves to dream, allow ourselves the honesty to embrace needed and desired changes, figure out how to hang on through the mess, not losing sight of the vision we clearly had at the beginning... we all have the opportunity of achieving an amazing transformation, a big reveal and wow-factor of improvement from both inside and outside.  But we have to do the work, nothing will happen until we actually get up and do it.

In the beginning, it will be scary and hard and a little bit exciting.  In the middle, in the mess, in the stress, in the overwhelm, that is where all the the real transformation occurs.  Embrace the mess, endure the stress, and start the home improvement transformation process to start becoming the beautiful new you - inside and out - that you know you have the potential to be.  In the end, it will be worth it - because YOU are worth it!

{ next blog post }
{ previous blog post }

My Failures of Yesterday

Last night I hung up a pair of jeans in my closet and stood there looking at them and thinking...
"I wonder how long it will be before I can't get these on any more and they will become part of that stack in the top of my closet?"

It left me sad and feeling heavy hearted.  Those feelings and thoughts continued to pool around my soul this morning.

I have recently gone shopping.  Clothes shopping.  First owner clothes shopping.  This is something I have never done before.  I am one who generally does not enjoy shopping, of any kind.  I hate grocery shopping, I hate shopping at Walmart, I hate clothing shopping.  I own a lot of clothes, but they have basically all come from a thrift second hand store, or handed down from friends or my sister-in-law, and they all "sort-of" fit on their best day.   At least until recently.

At Christmas my husband wrapped up an old shirt and an old pair of my boots and inside them there were gift certificates to a local women's clothing store.  And then a few days later he drove me to that store and dropped me off and said he would be back in a few hours.

I stood there having no idea what size I was or what I should get.  I was filled with anxiety and dread, not wanting to climb into a dressing room with an oversized mirror and pouring my cellulite heavy legs in and out of ill-fitting clothes.  And then a wonderful saleslady took me by the hand and helped me find a few new shirts, pants, and an adorable pair of tall boots.  Most of the items actually fit and looked fairly ok on me, and I had to admit, I had a rather enjoyable experience.

I also recently ordered a few new items online, which haven't arrived yet, and I'm more than a little nervous what I ordered isn't going to fit, and I'm more than a little disappointed in myself for allowing myself to continue to spend money on new clothing.  I also headed back to that women's clothing store to return just a few small items from my initial shopping experience, and I was able to exchange and find a few more new items to add to my wardrobe.  Part of me wants to go back and return everything.  Part of me wants to change my clothes multiple times a day so I can wear everything new I bought.  This is completely foreign territory for me.

And now I am suddenly faced with the reality that it's probably time to clean out my closet. 

It's time to dive in and take the time to go through, try on, evaluate, and ultimately clean out some of the old and some of the now too big.  I keep putting it off.  I've been at this point before.  Over and over in fact I've been here.  The number on the scale has finally passed to that mental number I set as my goal, and I'm left with an odd excitement over finally fitting back into those smaller clothes, mixed with an already self growing disappointment in myself just knowing I probably won't be at this place for very long.  Soon the weight will start creeping back on, and soon those smaller clothes will again become tight, and soon, I will again throw in the towel and give up the battle.  I'll stop getting up every morning to exercise, and I'll allow that pain in my feet, or hip, or head tell me it's ok... it's justified.  A few skipped days will become a few skipped weeks. I'll start eating more sweets and less fruit and vegetables.  I'll allow a little more sauce on my meats, a few more helpings here and there.  I'll start drinking more wine and a lot less water, and the more I eat and cheat, the less I will log and blog.  And suddenly an entire season will have passed and I'll find myself right back at square one.  Thirty pounds heavier and both mentally and physically miserable.

I have shuffled my boxes of cheap, used clothes of various sizes and shapes around my house my whole life.  What hangs directly in the middle of the closet usually is what currently fits.  The outer hanging wings are most tops and shirts that I could wear, but usually don't.  There are stacks and stacks of pant on the shelf above the hanging clothes.  The majority don't fit and are never worn.  After awhile I will finally box up several boxes of clothes I can no longer fit into and quietly stack them in a corner of the basement.  On occasion it's the larger clothes going into those boxes, and the smaller clothes will find their place for a very short time again amid the hangers.

And here I am again, at the doorway of my closet.  Overwhelmed with many emotions.  I find excitement with my current journey with my weight.  I'm proud of how far I've come this time.  I'm filled with strength, health, hope.  I'm also filled with fear and dread, and now guilt.  The dread of knowing I am probably destined, yet again, to fail on this weight journey.  I know I will end up quitting the battle and cycling right back up to where I always seem to end up.  I look at the new clothes recently purchased, with their crisp pleats and tiny shiny sparkles and little price tags, and I feel guilt.  Guilt over the money I have spent.  Money spent that will end up folded and stacked neatly in another box in the corner of my basement.  The question of when is only a matter of time.

How is it we let the lies of satan creep in durning our highest of highs and allow him to take us back down to our lowest of lows?  Surely God wants me to conquer my health and my happiness once and for all.  He wants me to be filled with energy and good will.  He wants what I've accomplished last week to still be a prized accomplishment in a year... two years... ultimately to the end of my days.

And yet, I sit here, at a time when I should be shouting my praise, filled with pride, and laughing in the face of the enemy, because I have achieved something.  But today I am not.  Today I have allowed the wallowing and failures of my past to overshadow the outlook of my future.

I've not lost the battle yet.  I've not gained the weight back yet.  I am not a repeat failure yet.  I've not given up yet.   But I feel the force of the enemy wanting me to... pushing me, upsetting me, whispering his lies and unrest deep within the vulnerable recesses of my insecurities.

He does not want us to be strong, he does not want us to succeed.  He does not want us to have hope in tomorrow.

Perhaps it's time to finally clip off those price tags and wear those new clothes.  I admit, I have worn a few, but the majority are still nicely stacked in the floor of my closet, resting on top of the aqua bag I brought them home in, the return option still available.  It's time to bring up the boxes and start the closet cleaning and swapping process.

It's time to start trying to figure out how to continue forward in this moment, continue onward in this journey.  It's time to figure out how to step into the tricky and slippery slope of weight loss maintenance.

It's time to stop worrying about tomorrow, stop remembering the failures of yesterday, and live life as I have it already within my hands today.

{ Missed the start of my Journey of Weight... start HERE. }
{ Next Journey of Weight post HERE }
{ next blog post }
{ previous post HERE }

Words on Weight

So, I'm going to give a little update on my current weight loss journey.

The update I found I have been putting off, for a myriad of odd reasons, most of which are just bizarre little stories I'm making up in my head, if I'm completely honest.  I can't quite decide if I should share about this or not...  Oddly, I feel like this is another one of those areas society is oddly silent about.

Who will care, who will even be interested in the fact I've lost a little weight??  When I knew I needed to get healthy and lose some weight - I would often feel slightly jealous towards those who were, those who were conquering and getting somewhere and giving themselves a deserved shout-out, and I found I sometimes avoided them.  I don't want people to avoid me...  Now that I've lost some weight and working towards regaining a healthier lifestyle, I feel some guilt over what I've actually accomplished and I'm afraid if I share about it, I'll turn off the jealous types, and also sets myself up for what people will think if I fall off the bandwagon (like I always have) and gain it all back again.  And as one who has struggled with the control issues of an eating disorder time and again, I also fear people will judge me with an assumption that it is my current reality and diet plan, which for once it isn't.

Then there's the odd reality that over a six month period, less than a handful of people have actually commented or mentioned my weight loss in a face to face conversation.  I've lost around thirty pounds, and while I'm sure I do talk about it in my general conversations, I have tried really hard to remain as quiet about it all as I can.  But apparently either no one who notices cares enough to say anything, or no one who cares has noticed any change.  Odd.  It does make me stop and wonder, what areas in my life amid interactions with others am I missing opportunities for praise, growth, and confidence building into those around me?

Are we as a society not "seeing" - or are we just no longer "affirming"?

Yup, the crazy in my brain is always a little wacka-do-dah... So beyond all these silly mind games I play with myself, I decided I will give an update and hope for the best.   I've been working really hard for quite a while, and while I don't want to "toot my own horn" and spotlight myself, I do want to document these challenging steps in my journey.

In case you're new to this part of my journey, click HERE.  Basically, I have battled my weight all my life, I'm not naturally skinny or athletic.  I rollercoaster up and down, year after year.  Back in the fall I was finally prompted into action about the weight I had gained over the summer.  My body had finally reached a point of healing about 18 months after I had delivered Faith.  I had spent my entire pregnancy with her sick, not just a morning sickness sick, but an overall full body sickness as my body bled and carried a tiny baby that was also filled with the sickness and the genetic disease, Trisomy 18.

After her birth and funeral I very quickly, without having to do anything, lost a rather large amount of weight, and was able to fairly naturally maintain that weight over the next 18 months without having to be overly careful what I ate or how much I exercised.  For a person who has spent her entire life struggling with her weight, it was really nice, even though the reality of all the emotional, spiritual, and physical healing I was dealing with left me overly unconcerned about my weight.  I'm left grateful, as I'm sure I could have very easily packed on an impressive amount of weight during that hard season.

Fast forward to last summer, our second full summer at the lake in a permanent spot, and once June hit I slowly noticed the weight coming back on.  By the end of September I was faced with the very real reality that none of my pants fit and I had nothing to wear for winter. Not just an "oh my pants are tight"... but a "I can't even get them up / on / zipped..."  I fought it, but did finally start on the all-too-familiar journey of weight loss, yet again.

It was very slow going for a long time.  I went to my tried-and-true go to diet of counting fat grams and eating very low fat food every day.  Despite my diligence, the weight did not budge.  I started doctoring for the pain and bunions on my feet.  I slowly got back on the treadmill again.  And I decided to try something new to me, I started counting weight watcher points.

It was all new and a little hard to get the hang of initially, but after a while I did start to see some small successes.  It was slow, as it is designed to be.  I don't do slow well.  As I stated earlier, I am a tried and true eating disorder food controller, which I did not want to have take over this time and tried to remain very conscious of.  It has been a battle, I won't lie, but I can honestly say this time I am really doing the work and putting in the time to correctly lose the weight and get my body back in shape.  No starvation in hopes of instant success.  No obsessive exercise regime.  No expensive fad specific food, shakes, or drinks (although my grocery budget did increase due to buying fruits, veggies, healthy, and organic foods...) Just logging points, points, and more points and 5-6 days of getting myself on my treadmill for 2-3 miles a day.

The whole thing has been difficult for me, and doing it "correctly" has taken so much longer than it ever has in the past.  But after nearly six months, I have recently met the goal weight that I set for myself.  It's a higher weight than the golden number of unattainable perfection I have carried with me in my mind for the last 30 years, but I'm hoping that might also help me somehow be able to maintain it longer than a few short weeks once I reached my goal weight.  And I'm not going to lie, it feels great to feel great again.  It feels amazing to slip on jeans I haven't worn in over 5 years, to go shopping for a select few new items to add to my wardrobe, items that are new and in the correct size.  I am not much of a fashion driven person, but I will tell you this- there is quite honestly nothing better than the feel of high-end expensive designer jeans, in a size and length that fits you.  Mmmmm that was a recent gift and revelation after a shopping stop at a Maurice's with a gift card from my husband.  I own a ton of jeans, they've all come from thrift stores and most don't really fit and aren't true designer denim, but I splurged and bought myself a pair that day.  Oh mylanta! Now that is sweet treat!

But I also won't lie... Every time I look at them and think about them, I can't help but wonder how long it will be before I can't get them on any more and they will become part of the growing stack of unwearable jeans in the top of my closet...

I have just recently arrived at this number on my scale, so now I'm trying to figure out and navigate the ever elusive "maintaining" aspect of weight loss that I have never ever been able to even remotely conquer in the past. Now I have changed my goal to maintaining it through the entire 2017 year.  And I will plan to log updates as I go - both to hold me accountable, and hopefully to encourage you to keep going yourself.

Maybe it's not weight that you're needing to journey to and through... but we all have something hard in front of us, and around us, that we know we need to persevere through and diligently remain conscious of in hopes of bettering our tomorrows.  Find a friend, find an accountability partner, don't feel you need to go it alone.

Don't keep putting it off, just dive in and breathe deep and take that first step.  You can never get to the second, third, and fourth steps until you take that very first one.  Just do it and get it over with, it will be hard, but it will start the forward momentum you need.  I promise, it will.  Starting is always the hardest.  And then when you reach the middle, hit the plateau, hit the roadblock that wants to make you quit...  push through.  Do the next right thing, just keep doing the next right thing.  (Just eat the carrots instead of the box of chocolates, trust me on this.)

Don't keep putting off to tomorrow what you can actually start today.  You've got this my friend, you've got this.  I believe in you and I know you have the power to believe in you.  Set the goal (make it small!), take the first step, hang on to your support system, and know it's going to be a long journey... But when the journey is long, it is always worth it, because God is always there, woven into each detail of each new day and each new step forward.  He is most visible and close during the darkest, hardest parts of our journeys.  He believes in you and knows your success is just within reach, it just needs a little hard work and your commitment to just keep doing that next right thing...

And just a little side note hint... often the next right thing, is really the next really hard thing, so if in doubt ~ just pick the thing that's hard, the thing you're avoiding, the "I can't even...!..." thing, and it's pretty sure a sure-fire winner in your journey towards success!

{ next Journey of Weight post HERE }

Coffee Mugs and Hoodies

I have a small love of coffee mugs and hoodies.

Just typing these words make me smile.  My husband does NOT get this relationship, but it's one of those things that just fill me with a great warmth and peace.

I don't a have a huge overflow of coffee mugs, but I do have several favorites, and most of them are housed at work.  Work is where I drink the majority of my coffee, and there is honestly something almost magical about drinking great coffee, at work (which happens to also be at church), from a mug that you have a special emotional attachment to.

Most of the time my go-to mug is one that looks like a camera lens, with the added bonus of a secure screw on lid.  I got this as a Christmas gift from my brother and sister-in-law and I loved it so much that I ordered myself a second one so I could have one for work and one for home.  In the summer one of them will get to enjoy the season at the lake nestled comfortably in my hands watching the sun rise and set through the cool spring, the hot summer, and back through the cool of fall.

Since I do work at church, I also have my go-to Sunday mugs.  One is Christmas themed and personalized with photos of my boys on it (yes, I designed and ordered it for myself) or the church logo-ed one that has my name in large letters label-makered across the bottom, which doesn't fit under the staff keurig, but fits perfectly under the pour spouts from the giant cafe carafes on Sunday mornings ;-)  And we all know Sunday's call for an extra large cup of coffee (or two or three or four...)!  I may have a tendency of setting down those mugs throughout the chaos of the morning and not find them back.  And yet, both those mugs always seem to find their way back to my desk by the following morning :-)  I have my Turkey Run covered bridge mug, for the days I need a special pick-me-up, there's the extra large mug from my friend for light-hearted days, there's the mug from the Belong conference for the heavy days...

The same thing happens with the various hoodies in my closet.  Oh how I love to get a new hoodie when we are on vacation or at someplace fun or special to me.

It's not really about the article of clothing itself, or about the liquid inside the mug, it's about the emotional attachment and feeling evoked within as I fondly recall the special moments and memories of those near and dear places and adventures. They are my security blanket to my past perhaps.

I pull on a destination specific hoodie and nestle my hands warmly inside, or I fill and hold that steaming logo-ed cup in my hands, and I'm taken back to a place and time when God was good, life was slower, memories were made, soul care soared... They fill me with a glow, a hope, a quietness, a richness, a specialness... honestly, those hoodies and coffee mugs simply bring me joy.  They warm my soul from both the inside and outside.

I realize my husband will never quite grasp this concept and connection, as he looks at me annoyed and confused when I stand in a gift shop ohh'ing and ahh'ing and mulling over which coffee mug or hoodie I've currently fallen in love with.  He will assure me I already have enough of both and there is no need or justification in buying either.  I will of course know he's right, and be secretly disappointed... and then try I find a way to sneak back and still smuggle one home. :-)

I don't buy just any coffee mug or hoodie... but the ones I do have are just a special part of a physical link to an emotion interlaced with a special moment from my past, helping me get through today, into the hopes and dreams of my awaiting tomorrows.

{ next blog post "Words On Weight" click HERE }
( previous blog post "Ready to Welcome 2017" click HERE }