When I Finally Quit Quitting

I slept in this morning.  This is something I rarely let myself do anymore.  It's habit, it's guilt, it's my love of chocolate.

But this morning I was tired.  I stood in the dining room at 4:20 a.m. and I just couldn't do it.  My body was so tired.  It was a Monday morning after a weekend at the lake.  I hadn't even wanted to wake up this morning in our bed at home... I had planned to stay one more night at the lake and head to work in the morning directly from there... but plans changed and well, I chose to go back to bed instead of exercising.  And I didn't drag myself back out until 7:15 a.m.

There was no chance of exercising, there was hardly a chance I was going to get breakfast.  But we made it to daycare and work on time and my body I'm sure was thanking me for the little reprieve I allowed it.

I have talked myself into running early in the morning, whatever exercise I do, I do early in the morning.  I've learned if I don't, it won't happen.  Period.  In different seasons I have run and exercised at different times, but in this season, this summer, early morning it is... it's my current ticket to completion.

I assumed the day was a loss for getting to log anything active.  Which is fine, I know there are days of rest needed... But then I got home and my husband was holding in his hand... a garmin running watch for me to try... and the weather outside... well, it was just absolutely perfect running weather.  I played around with the watch settings for a while and then just decided to lace up thee old shoes and head on out.

I got the privilege of running on a trail near my house that I haven't been able to run yet this summer, due to the fact that I'm either inside on my machines, or it's pitch black out while I'm running long miles around our tiny town before work in the morning.

It's a four mile trail from one end to the other, and once upon a time, it was my ultimate summer goal - to be able to run the entire distance without having to stop and walk.  Before this summer it had been several years since I had occasionally been able to reach that goal.

And tonight as I was running, I started thinking about all that running I've tried to do in the past.  All that running I've tried to accomplish, overcome, conquer, and never have been able to.  I would always get to some point and just quit.  It would get too hard, too long, too painful, and I would simply quit and chalk it up for yet another year of not being able to be an actual runner.

Well, low and behold, by definition I am a runner, and have been for years.  I put on running shoes and moved my legs faster than a walk, so I am, in fact a runner. I just didn't give myself the credit because I didn't think I was good enough, and I didn't think I was graceful enough, fast enough, athletic enough to be considered a "real" runner, a "real" athlete.  In my mind I have always been the running non runner...  And in my mind real runners never walked, real runners never struggled with hard runs or sore muscles or days (or weeks) where they slept in.  Real runners never had to fight off all these demons in their head telling them to stop, telling them it's not worth it... Real runners could run any distance they wanted to at amazing speeds.  And I was never quite sure what the draw was for me to even be out running anyway.  Oh yes I do... calories.  Plain and simple, I started running to burn of the maximum number of calories in the shortest amount of time.  I hated it and somehow also loved it all at the same time.

But I have a perfection complex, and I tend to be all in or all out... and when I couldn't conquer running the way I thought a real runner should from within my head, I would just quit.  It was easier to quit than to fail, and for whatever crazy reason I somehow thought I was always a failure because I had to walk, or because I slept in, or because it was so flipp'n hard.  Running isn't natural, easy, graceful or exciting for me, so obviously I simply wasn't a real runner.

But as I ran tonight, this new fancy watch on my wrist vibrating and buzzing with each passing mile as it accurately recorded my pace and distance and time, as I put in one mile, then two, then three, then four, then five... and I couldn't help but wonder why it's all so different this time around, this season, this summer...

And the little voice in my head simply said - "You finally quit quitting." I finally quite quitting.  Mind blowing and earth shattering just a little bit.  Perhaps I am simply a runner, because well... I run.  It doesn't matter if I'm graceful, or fast, or enjoying myself, or accomplishing records, or able to beat anyone.  It isn't about being perfect or even being exceptional in the athletic department.  It's about me, about coming to grips with mediocrity, accepting intervals as necessary instead of failure, about choosing to love myself enough to grant myself the time and space necessary to actually do all this running and training this season.  And... it's about celebrating the body and the health I currently have, that God has currently blessed me to have.

I stopped being a failure. I stopped doubting my own strength and determination. I stopped sleeping in.  I stopped telling myself it was ok to really not care about what I put inside my body.  I stopped leaving the perfection bar of expectation so high I couldn't touch it, even when on my tippy toes.

I finally quit quitting.  At least for this season anyway... and I am humbled and I am grateful.
All this running stuff I'm sure isn't going to last forever... I could break my toe walking through the house in the dark to go to bed in a few minutes... I could get in a car accident on my way to work tomorrow and become paralyzed... But I'm not going to dwell on those unknowns - I'm merely going to gratefully honor the me who I am right here, right now, for however much longer I am given in this season.

And tonight, I just want to ask you - what is holding you back, what are you feeling a failure over, what is still looming above you that you can't seem to just quite reach?  What's inside you that is holding back your drive, your excellence, your ability to try, achieve, believe, explore, grow...

What could you accomplish or overcome if you quit quitting?

{ Next Blog Post "I Have This Small Dream" HERE }
{ Previous Blog Post "Three Weeks Three Habits" HERE }

Three Weeks... Three Habits

I’m not sure if it’s just one of my own personal quirks, but I spend a lot of my time thinking about things I need to change about myself. Goals I’d like to achieve, habits I’d like to break, things I need to change. Yeah, I got this crazy perfection complex thing going on, I know…

I don’t know the statistic right off, but I’ve heard it takes having to do something a certain amount of times over and over again before it will actually start becoming engrained, start becoming a standard thought and action pattern.

I think back to not long ago when I started to worry about transitioning my half marathon training from machines in the basement to outside at the lake. I was so worried I would stop getting up early to exercise and I would soon quit my training all together. But I am determined to tackle this goal, and so far so good. 4:20am every morning at the lake I get up and head out. I have been blessed beyond my wildest imagination at the sunrises, wildlife, and moments in nature with God that I have been granted to experience. While I still fear I’m only one oversleeping morning away from quitting training entirely, I do think it’s safe to say that I have actually transitioned into this new habit and morning routine at the lake with general ease and accomplishment. (I am also very grateful our dog thinks she needs to eat and go out at 4:20am every morning as well. I probably need to give her all the credit for my early morning motivation.)

I think of lists of other things I’ve worked and focused on to achieve, change, overcome throughout the years. Some I’ve achieved, some I haven’t. Some I’ve conquered, some I have failed. Some I have managed to continue long term, some were just short little accomplishments notched on my belt, but unsustainable long term.

In my perfection laced mind there is always something. Always something not good enough, something not perfect enough, something not acceptable enough in mind. I’m also one of those “go big or go home” people, who often just reach out for the biggest thing I can possibly attempt to tackle and just start running towards it.

Until running actually became one of those things I wanted to start tackling (cuz, you know, I'm not actually a runner or athlete...)  Running I have found is a beast like nothing else I’ve experienced. It is hard, it is challenging, it is unpleasant. It is rewarding, it is healthy, it is oddly fulfilling. Running for me seems to be an incredible battle between good vs evil. Mind vs matter. Will vs motivation. Yes, right now I am in a season of running, a season of health, a season of weightloss. I am not sure how long I will continue to conquer, but for today, I will simply continue forward while my health and my body allow.

But, back to the intentional setting out to do something small every single day in hopes that it simply becomes an every day part of daily life. I decided that I would take three small things, three actually very tiny things and target them specifically throughout the next three weeks.

I picked something perhaps odd, perhaps not. But I picked something that I should probably already long have been doing, something I’ve told myself a million time to do, but for whatever reason don't.

Three weeks. Three simple daily steps.

1- brush my teeth every night before bed.
I have somehow got a little hit-and-miss with this… more misses than hits…

2- wash my face and apply skin care cream every night before bed.
I have never been good at doing this, I sleep in my makeup…

3- untie my running shoes before taking them off.
I have somehow long fallen into the habit of just sliding them off while still tied. The backs of most my tennis shoes end up split in the back. Granted they all have each logged thousands of miles probably… but that is irregardless. ~lol. I have finally just upgraded to two brand new sets of running shoes. A set for inside on the equipment. A set that I will need to force myself to break in, force myself to bring them from brand new, to gently used and abused, in a matter of a few shorts weeks. New shoes are hard for me for some reason.

So there they are, the three simple things that will hopefully be old hat in three short weeks. Three simple things I should already be doing, but I'm not.

Little things, tiny steps. Because not everything has to be big and mighty, not everything has to change the world, not everything needs to even change my life. Little is still big enough. Little is still forward, little is still positive momentum, little is often much more achievable.  Little is still worthy… And how often doesn’t the accomplishment of little things lead to the accomplishment of much bigger things?

I’m not sure why for me it’s sometimes hardest to tackle the smallest. I’m all about the extreme, and little is often just overlooked or simply in the way.

That face and those teeth that I’m going to wash, moisturize, brush every night before bed from now on, are going to continue to smile, continue to eat healthy (ok, and some not so healthy) foods. My crows feet and laugh lines will still be there when I smile, my blemishes will still need a little foundation to be covered up. Nice skin and teeth aren’t a big thing in life, but still simply smart to take care of.

Those shoes I’m going to untie every time I take them off from now on, they are going to be on my feet the next time I try accomplish another goal and dream of mine. They will also be on my feet all the days of training and living in-between those big accomplishment making (or failing) days. Nice shoes aren’t a big thing in life, but they too, are still simply smart to take care of.

How about we all try get in the habit of taking care of the little things shall we? And soon we will also hopefully get in the habit of wanting to also take care of the really big things. And that my friends, is perhaps the key to great success. It’s intentionally taking on the little things so the big things can also someday be attainable. It’s not that we can’t skip the small to tackle the large… but I think the practice of small accomplishments is a far stronger longterm foundation in which to continue to build and climb on on our way to much bigger and higher dream catching.

Yup, I am simply going to wash my face, brush my teeth, and untie my shoes all the way to heaven only knows where… :-)

{ Next blog post "When I Finally Quit Quitting" HERE }
{ Previous blog post "Nights That Are Heavy" HERE }

Nights That Are Heavy

Tonight was one of those nights. 

An off night… a hard night… a heavy night… I wasn’t expecting it, it took me a little by surprise, but these days do still happen on occasion. I’m at the lake tonight… I finished up my work week at 5:00pm, packed up the groceries and the nine-year-old, and off we went to the lake together.

Usually these nights are a lifting of the heavy, a release of the anxieties, a filling of the empty… not a shoulder settling deep weight of added intensity and emotion.

I have come to cherish our Thursday nights at the lake. It’s typically just our youngest middle and myself… There are usually a few others already here, but not very many. The campground is still quiet. The golf carts aren’t the steady traffic going by yet. The children aren’t running, screaming, biking, and swimming yet. I can sit alone without feeling the guilt or worry of judgement that I often battle as a slight extrovert when everyone is here and gathered. I love my friends, I love the flutter of weekend activity, but oh I love my alone time and the silence as well {wink}.  

We often arrive close to dusk after a full, busy day and I unpack with my eyes gazing to the west, watching the hues of the sky change as sunset approaches. I’ll slowly make my way down to the beach to enjoy the peace of sunset. My sunset watching rock and bench will not have anyone else already there, no one rarely comes to join me on Thursday night sunsets. I have time to pray, time to watch, time to breath in deep the quiet my soul needs after a busy week of work and responsibilities.

The weather is often perfect on these nights as well. Tonight there is hardly a whisper of a breeze. The sky is black with the twinkle of bright stars all around. The big dipper hangs high in front of me. The moon a fingernail, hanging lazily in the sky. There’s a small buzz of bugs around our deck lights… a quiet distant lapping of waves down at the beach. Birds are chatting back and forth and there’s an occasional rustle in the grass from a passing squirrel or rabbit.

It’s a place and time that is woven with special magic for me… a secret location with a heavy mixing of soul care, and a large dash of guilt. Yes guilt. I have battled guilt all my life. And here is no different. I feel like I need to hide this all away, play it all down as no-big-deal, silence the fact that I’m even here.

I love summer, I love this place, I need this place. I need the slow, I need the relationships, I need the soul filling, salve healing minutes and hours each weekend to rest, to sleep, to read, to write, to pray, to run, to harness and grab the rabbit trails of uncaught creativity that course through me during the week when I don’t have time to hold, to grasp, to process fully.

I need these days, these nights, this place to refuel and recharge my tired batteries.

But tonight there is a heaviness, an ache, a frustration, an unsettledness that has followed me here. It’s holding my hand, pulling me back, it won’t seem to let me go.

I know there are changes on the horizon at my job. I try embrace change and be open to doing whatever I need to, but that still doesn’t mean that change isn’t hard. Change is uncomfortable. I’m not sitting in dread, but I am tiptoeing into that beforehand anticipation of unknown, and it’s becoming a constant little prink in the back of my mind. I got a jury duty summons for July and August, and in less than a month, my oldest will hopefully be a college graduate. He is in the process of moving into his own place, getting settled in a new job, fully embracing his final step into adulthood. And as a parent, I find this a bit of a hard spot to stand in. A shadowy stance of waiting and watching from afar.

I also know my body is physically tired as I continue to half marathon train. The runs are getting longer and harder, the battle in my mind with dates, goals, times, paces is intensifying as I continue to push myself while trying to not allow myself to sink into my obsessive tendencies which I’ve seen myself fall into in the past. My mind is knotted and jumbled up from the to-do lists back home, the responsibilities of day-to-day life. My soul is weary from the heaviness of watching so many hurt and struggle with the effects of sickness, health issues, relationship issues, and life’s daily battle of the burdens we all bare.

I sat on the dock tonight, watching the sun explode through the clouds in all its splendor and majesty. I closed my eyes, feeling the sun rays reflecting off my face - the brilliant brightness still evident through my closed eyelids. I breathed deeply in and out, in and out, looking for words…but the only thing I could utter was “Fill me Lord… Fill me Lord… Fill me Lord…”

I breathed deep, repeating it over and over. It was all I had.

I felt heavy. I felt burdened. I almost felt like a fake, a fraud, as I fleetingly wondered if I’m even truly an all-in Christ follower, or if I’m simply giving great lip service to what sounds good on behalf of the Great God behind the magnificence of this earth, this creation, this joy and journey of life. I felt selfish. I felt like I don’t deserve this time and this place. I felt sad. I thought about the reason we even first found this little place, through the loss of our little Faith MaryJo and the start our Journey to Faith. I felt grateful. I don’t have words for the gift this place has given us through our loss. The healing, the people and community, the perspective. I felt guilt. Satan whispers over and over I don’t deserve to be here. I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t have a four day work week this summer, I shouldn’t love and need this place as much as I do. I shouldn’t find as much happiness here as I do. I shouldn’t find so much joy and soul filling here.

But I do… But I do… But I do… and it makes me hurt, confused, heavy laden when I allow those emotions to hang so forcefully on the narrows my shoulders.

I have battled this teeter-totter of overwhelm and abundance since our first summer here. It ebbs and flows, but it’s always quietly whispering in the back of my mind. Today the whisper was loud. Today the whisper brought heaviness instead of release.

I know this is all a great gift from God. I know I should just praise fully each and every blessing in my life right now, as my blessings are more than the grains of sand right now. Uncountable, unfathomable are His gifts to me. I know I should grasp every passing moment with the grandeur and magnitude they were created to be, and open my hands to release the guilt and release the heaviness.

I know… and yet, I still feel that I need to hide it and I need to hang on to the guilt of it. I need to not share it, not fully embrace it. I worry what others looking in at me are thinking, what they’re judging me over, what they’re secretly harboring towards me. I know the world is all carrying a heavy burden and I feel a great empathy for their journeys. I want to love well and be aware well… so I feel I need to hide my good things for some reason. I need to downplay and under value the very thing that is the greatest thing for me.

I consider my own selfishness… I consider others pain, heaviness, burdens… I consider the pain of the worlds day-to-day living… and I consider just remaining silent. But God is so evident and so good here, and I just want to share that, I want to capture that, reflect that, to outwardly encourage, touch, help, connect…

I sit here on my sacred wooden deck in the silence, in the dark, in my own heaviness, my own emptiness, my own battle between overwhelm, personal blessings, and heavenly abundance amid the icky and sticky of life’s heavy. I want to simply share my struggle, my journey, my pain, my overcome, even though something inside continues to tell me I’m not worthy, I’m not deserving enough, and others don’t want to know, don’t want to hear, and will only resent me if I do share. I’m not sure where this logic stems from. I’m not sure if it’s a truthful whisper from above urging me to remain quiet, or if it is simply the stories I’m falsely weaving in my own mind.   

So tonight I will simply share the story of a quiet evening at the lake, an unexpected night of heavy emotions, amid the grand gift of my known gratitude and blessing. I will simply share the hands outstretched, uttering over and over and over “Fill me Lord… Fill me Lord… Fill me Lord…” I will somehow convince myself it’s ok to continue to share my journey - my pain, my hurt, my hard, my failures, my heart, my joy, my successes.

Today was a hard day, even at my special, happy place. But that is ok. Hard days are simply part of my journey - I have come to embrace this reality, but that doesn’t always make them any easier to trudge through.

Tonight I won’t hide behind a “I’m doing just fine” smile. Tonight I shall look the world in the eyes and quietly admit the heavy, openly admit the hard. I will earnestly pray to be filled. I will allow sleep and give rest to my mind and body. I will allow sleep and give rest to my weary heart and heavy soul.

I will continue breathing deep breathes of “Fill me Lord… Fill me Lord… Fill me Lord…”

I will say goodnight and call it a day. And tomorrow, I will simply trust the Lord will wake me to a new day, a better day, a lighter day, a brighter day…

{ Next blog post "Three Weeks... Three Habits" HERE }
{ Previous Blog Post "No Mud Puddles Mama" HERE }

A No Mud Puddles Mama

Last night I was at the lake, walking to the beach at dusk, after an afternoon of rain.  My good camera clutched firmly in my hands as I was on a quest to not miss sunset.

There was mud and standing puddles all along the way.  I was diligently tiptoeing here and there in a little dance dodging and skirting around all the water, my eyes firmly glued to the ground.

And then I happened to look up, and I saw a little girl ahead of me who was busy jumping and stepping in every puddle she walked past. She was barefoot and her pants were wet up above her knees. The back of her shirt dotted with little brown spots of varying sizes. Her dad was walking beside her, slowing his pace to allow her the time she needed to adequately and completely touch ever droplet of water she could see. My eyes got big and I’m sure I grit my teeth a little. My hands and gut tightened, I inhaled deeply.

I looked back down and continued slowly behind them, carefully watching my meticulous and careful placed steps as to not get dirty myself. But I soon gained on little puddle jumper girl and I found myself watching those little bare feet wade through dirty puddle after dirty puddle. She smiled, she laughed, she turned around and hit a few of them more than once.

And then at some point, it all completely struck me, as if in slow motion, and I almost had to stop. My felt my heart began to beat a little heavier in my chest and I had to blink a few extra times as tears burned the corners of my eyes.

I have never allowed my children to jump in mud puddles after the rain. They could maybe verrrrry carefully, verrrrry slowly, walk through them, but only if they had their boots on, and certainly no splashing… I have never allowed my children to walk around outside without shoes on. Like ever, cardinal rule number one, with no riding bike if not wearing tennis shoes a very close second. No riding bike in flip flops, absolutely no riding bike bare foot!  (Helmets however, have been a bit more negotiable for some reason apparently.)  I have never allowed my children to mix the playdough colors. I have never allowed my children to sleep in bed with us at night. I absolutely cringe when it comes to decorating cut out cookies and making ginger bread houses. Oh Mylanta people!! The sprinkles, the sparkles, the sticky fingers and faces, the flour from floor to ceiling…. I can about give myself an ulcer from the stress of just thinking about it. I hate broken crayons and scribbling outside the lines.  Messy bags, desks, lockers, backpacks, and bedrooms can give me a migraine.

Yes, I am one of “those moms.”  One of “those moms” who apparently just doesn’t do well in the tension of mess, the chaos of interruption and unscheduled change, the mayhem of carefree living . I hover, I oversee, (but I swear to you I am not a helicopter parent!) and I find myself with personal anxiety from the innocence of their “creativity” because I want to control, confine, conform them to my standards and my wishes.  And I am a perfectionist, and I want them to remain clean, concise, careful, controlled… Which unfortunately I fear, does not exist on the same spectrum as carefree and creative.

How much stress and bondage have I instilled and enforced in the lives of my children as they have grown and attempted to live in the careful expression of their joy and creativity while completely under the iron fist of their rigid, unwavering, unachievable perfection complex of their mother?

Oh yes, I want the colorful staged pictures of our lives, their lives, to show off and share, to forever mark the memory with… But, the physical un-staged reality of the moving objects and emotions surrounding some of those captured moments that have been magically burned into each snapshot, is not always as “picture perfect” as portrayed. I think of several different photos over the years, filled with smiles and joy, and still remember the absolute nightmare of emotions and words before and/or after that magical “snap” of the camera. The captured photos may be stunning and awesome and vibrant, but the overall activity in the actual heat of that moment I know for a fact wasn’t quite so much so.

And then I thought about myself - how I know that I am one that I feel is personally always in an inner battle with my own crazy creativity.  I always felt a little off, a little different from my parents and family.  I’ve chosen to be organized and responsible, but something is always wanting to be written, something is always wanting to be photographed, something is always wanting to be read and processed, something is always wanting to be sought, found, captured, expressed, shared, which sometimes fights against the to-do lists, the job responsibilities, the controlled obsessive organizational overdrive also surging through my veins.

To say I live in a constant state of internal discourse is an understatement of epic proportion.  The fight of the crazy that is always going on inside my brain often leaves me absolutely exhausted.

So, why the cleanliness, why the control, why the micromanagement? Why is it that I myself have never jumped in mud puddles, hate going outside in the rain, have never walked outside barefoot (heck, I can’t even walk through my house barefoot, like ever!), and have never discovered the magic hues of mixed play dough creations? Why do I fight with my own inner creativity on some aspects, and completely deny even entertaining the idea of embracing any kind of childish behavior either from myself or from my own children?

I have denied some of the most basic childhood childishnesses to both my children and to myself. For my entire life I have tried to fight for rigidity and demand control over things I have no right controlling. I’ve battled the losing battle of unattainable dreams and unreachable goals in my own life for so long that apparently I at some point began channeling that same infliction towards my children.

Am I the only mama that lives in this crazy tension between letting, allowing, encouraging over controlling, demanding, enforcing? Somehow I don’t think I am alone in this discourse. Granted I know there is a fine line here somewhere between my responsibility as a parent when it comes to safety, protection, and the teaching of basic life skills to my children, but the spectrum between those two ends is very very vast, and are two extremes I rarely entertain, appreciate, or tolerate.

How do mamas like me learn to open our hands and say “go freely”… open our minds and say “live fully”… open our hearts and say “embrace wholeheartedly”?

How do we as women learn to do this very thing within our very own lives, and how in the world did we even get to be this way in the first place?  Of course I know finding the answer to these questions is at the core of this whole mud puddle jumping issue - the starting point to tackle - the freedom needed to finally overcome.

All that which junks up the insides of my own self needs to be cleaned and taken care of first before I will ever be able to allow and grant the freedom of un-abandoned puddle jumping to my children.

So perhaps I need to start praying for a little more rain in my life… a few more showers and storms of opportunities to continue to grow me, to embrace me, to just force me to step into all that mud, into all that mess, into all those wet and dirty puddles of life… And also continue forcing me to figure out how to start jumping in without the clenched fists, the gritted teeth, the stomach aches, the desire to ultimately be in control… 

And perhaps... even forcing me to jump in without my shoes on!

{ Next Blog post "Nights That Are Heavy" HERE }
{Previous Blog Post "Social Media Mind-Games" HERE }

Social Media Mind-Games

I scroll through my social media pages mindlessly, or at least I tell myself I’m not really paying attention, and that it really doesn’t matter who’s out there doing what…

I scroll through elaborate cakes and cupcake designs I know I’ll never be able to create (elaborate enough to actually make me grateful I’m not a full time cake decorator right now). I scroll through athletics running and exercising at rates and paces I know my body will never be able to achieve. I scroll through amazing photographs of nature at places and angles with light sources I know I will never be able to visit or capture. I scroll through small businesses making much larger impacts, more than I will have ever made through my tiny cake and cupcake business. I scroll through families and children and smiles and selfies and activities and vacations portraying a richness, fullness, happiness, contentment I know I will never be able to live up to. I tell myself it’s ok, I tell myself it doesn’t actually matter, I tell myself to not even really pay attention… and yet I continue to scroll, continue to follow, continue to compare.

I realize that we’re all living and posting and sharing somewhat of a beautiful poison laced lie of who we really are. It’s maybe woven together with some some great truths and some humbling grace, stitched together with the snippets of the few best moments we managed to capture... but overall I think we all know that what we post, what we share, and what we see posted, really isn’t an entirely true representation of reality, of anyone’s reality. It’s the semi-staged, filtered, photoshopped version of our best selves.

Why are we so obsessed with looking so good and so accomplished on the outside, while attempting to live up to and obsessing over wanting to look as good as what everyone else is portraying and posting? Why is it so important to us that we share this fancy version of ourselves to the public, while struggling and hiding the real private version of ourselves?

I stop for a moment and wonder if anything I post has anyone thinking this about me. Am I posting things that people are looking at that cause them to feel less than, feel lower than, feel inadequate in comparison to. I surely hope not because that is not my intent… but I know that that is how so many people in my feeds make me feel, so it does make me pause and wonder a little. Does anyone even see me, does anyone even hear the message I’m trying to share, does anyone (beyond myself) even care what I am actually doing in my life? We are all pretty well wrapped up in all the details of our own little lives, so it’s probably pretty safe to say that no, no one really cares about my life, my journey, my adventures. I’ve made a pact with myself to live authentically, to live fully and richly, to share as honestly and humbly as I possibly can. I try not filter and perfect and paint a flawless picture of my life that is of a different hue than what is painted on my inside.

But nearly each and every one of us, myself included, still tend to post and share away the best and the amazing moments of our lives… Occasionally a few of the not-so-amazing… just enough to give the perception we’re still “real” but surely not enough to allow anyone to think failures and nervous break downs are part of our daily norm.

I know I struggle with this if I’m brutally honest. I so want to share about what I’m learning, seeing, discovering about myself through this journey God has me on. I want to share the beauty in the nature around me, hoping to help, to encourage, to remind others to stop and slow and breathe in the beauty of God’s creation around them.

But if I whittle it all down to the very very roots…is God honestly at the very core, the crux, the meat and bones entirely of what I am posting and writing and sharing? Or is there some selfishness, some conceit, some “see-me” identity crisis still going on within me that is a silent underlier wanting to take the credit instead of God? Well of course there is… that is the unfortunate nature of the fallen world we live in. But is it ok to just write that off as an excuse, as a pretty little cop-out thanks to the apple Eve gave to Adam?? I have cursed that damn apple for so many years of my life. Oh how life could have been so different, should have been so much better… but that wasn’t the plan, that wasn’t the reality for the world.

I think I need to spend some time coming to a better relationship with that apple, I need to switch my outlook from disgust and disappointment for the sin now surrounding me, to somehow embracing the struggle, enduring the difficulties as a result of the apple as great gifts of growth, as grace and gracious blessing and abundance. Some day I am going to get to meet Eve in person, and I probably should not still be harboring all this animosity I currently have towards her. I need to figure out a way to somehow thank her, somehow show my appreciation for the journey I got to experience through the aftermath and trajectory of her and Adam’s choices thousands of years ago. But that’s a different blog post for a different day.

Today I continue sitting in the tension of the social media reality vs perception. The popular addiction nearly every single person has fallen victim to, and nearly every single person has knowingly and unknowingly fed into.

We post the perfect, we believe in the beauty, we boast of the bold, we allow ourselves to feel defeated in the daily barrage of society’s better-thans. We don’t want to feel this way, we don’t want to come off this way, and yet we do… we continue to post, we continue to follow. We continue to paint the portrait of our lives for the public to see and we continue to judge ourselves in a comparison that isn’t neither accurate nor attainable.

It’s a messed up thing we’ve created isn’t it. A gloriously connected, instantaneous, feel good, helpful, hopeful, dreadful, marvelous thing. We can build each other up and tear each other down all in the same key stroke. We can believe in and feel a bold greatness in ourselves, and fall short and dive to the empty ache of disappointment within ourselves, all in a matter of a few clicks and swipes. We can share our grand story of God’s provision and purpose while at the same time oddly taking personal credit for all the things and accomplishments God has ultimately granted and gifted us with.

I’m not even quite sure what to do with this reality, with this juxtaposition. I know the intents of my heart and mind are to share and give all the credit to the Creator of it all - the master artist of life and love, but I’m also aware of the selfish and egocentric bend of my sin that leaves me checking the interactive responses and likes on all that which I post, write, and share... a small illustration of the selfishness, vanity, and gainful pride within me.

“May the words of my mouth and meditations of my heart be pleasing to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer." ~Psalm 19:13

May the words and intents of my social media presence, may the meditations and reactions within me as I read everyone else social media posts, be pleasing to the Lord. May I put the Lord first, to be my rock and my redeemer. May the Words of the Lord be the words I choose to fill me and fulfill me, not the words in my social media feeds. May the love of my Heavenly father fill me with the purpose and validation to which He ultimately created me for and to become. May I allow His truths to fill me, so the world’s half-truths won’t deplete me. May I seek Him, honor Him, love Him, worship Him in all I say and do - in all I share and all I represent.

May all of who I am and what I represent fully represent and point to the Lord, may the Lord clearly be seen and found through the lens of my eyes and my social media presence.

{ Next blog post "No Puddles Mama" HERE }
{ Previous blog "My Health, My Self, My God" HERE }

My Health, My Self, My God

I feel like there has been a bit of social media hype these days with various products and opportunities…  I want to start right off by saying that I’m not opposed to any of this, I have nothing negative towards any of the companies, or products, or people - in fact there are lots I actually love following and love their refreshing honesty, drive, and obvious passion as they follow their journeys and invest in themselves, while trying and encouraging and help others around them.

I am also a small business owner of a small little cake decorating company that I built from nothing, grew to something, and then scaled back to not-such-a-big-something again… for the moment anyway. I am very passionate about my little blessing based business, I am quite attached to it, and I rather enjoy getting to be a part of a few things on occasion that can in return bless a friend, or a stranger, or merely just be a sweet indulgence for someone now and again. It’s a cake and cupcake business… it’s edible art. It’s something created that is meant to be shared, and eaten, and it’s not at all healthy, it’s merely a tasty, pretty, celebration piece.

I understand wanting followers, I get wanting to be seen, I get wanting to make a positive impact on the world around me. And yet, for some odd reason, I also feel like I need to almost defend some of my own personal health related decisions that I’ve been making over the past nine months, and clearly state that an occasional cupcake and a little free soul care motivation here or there is the only thing I’m at all concerned about promoting right now.

I have chosen to embrace my health from a totally free and pure approach this time. I am not part of or affiliated with any organization, or business, or team, or gym, or health coach.

Nearly a year ago I hit a personal low… after trudging through a very long and low season of loss in my life. And one day I woke up and realized that it was time for a change. It was time to start trying to pick up a few more pieces of my crumbly life and continue to try piece myself slowly back together again.

For a year and a half I’d already been diligently working on healing some deep wounds and pains after the loss of our infant daughter, a child I had prayed for, wished for, gutturally begged and pleaded to God for for over seventeen years… and when He finally granted that wish, He also blessed her with a little disease called Trisomy 18. She would never live to come home with us, and would get the joy of meeting Jesus before meeting her mom and dad.

I grieved, I mourned, I healed. Well, I started to heal. It took a long time for my body to physically heal from the effects of this on my body, and I know I will never reach a state of complete healing mentally or physically while I’m still on earth. But through our loss, God set me out on an amazing and powerful journey of finding myself and finding my faith.

As I diligently worked on my inner hurts, focusing so intently on my soul and my heart and my mind, I allowed my outer self to fall apart a little. I gained quite a bit of weight, and I chose to ignore it for a long time. My whole life I’ve battled weight and body image. I’ve dealt with eating issues and diet issues and perfection issues for as long as I can remember. The rollercoaster ride of my crazed reality was nothing new.

But God kept working, He kept nudging and whispering and carefully pushing me toward a humbleness of knowing it was again time to return to a healthier way of living. I heard it and fought it for a very long time. I refused to listen - until the reality could no longer be denied as I could no longer physically fit into anything I owned.

Pride set in and I refused to allow myself to purchase yet another set of clothes another size larger. Pride and financial thriftiness also set in and I would not allow justification to spend any money specifically towards this new health quest.

I would not join a gym and pay any membership fees. I would not sign on and pay any type of health coach. I would not sign up for any kind of diet fad plan currently available out there.

This was merely between me, and God, and nature.

And that is exactly what I did. It was very hard and very slow going and I was incredibly discouraged for a very long time. But I chose to not give up. I chose to continue to get up every morning and just try do the next right thing, figure out the next right thing to try tackle next. I had good days, I had worst days, I had ok days. In time, I slowly started making some small headway… and the more I learned, the more I figured out, the more determined I became.

I tried to not talk about it much… but unfortunately when the inside of your brain is filled and transfixed on something that it’s diligently working on, what you think about tends to often seep into what you also talk about. But I honestly tried to just remain quiet, and remain diligent.

I’m not there yet, I never will be. But I’m further than what I was. At least for today I am. I do live in fear that falling off the bandwagon is only one bad choice away - only one Bunny Tracks® double scoop away from forever leaving this current quest for living a naturally healthy life.

All that being said, I have had a few people ask me what I’ve done, what I’m doing, what I’ve taken to get where I currently stand today.

I am not a health coach in any way shape or form. I am not taking any sort of product or supplement. I am not drinking any kind of special colored drinks or shakes, I am not on any all-or-nothing type diet. I am not selling or endorsing anything (expect my cupcakes, which I’m sorry ~ will not help you one iota on any diet plan).

I have chosen a few really close, really strong people to journey beside me and hold me accountable, whom I know will love me and be honest and real with me through both my failures and my successes. They lift me up, they pull me back in, they drag me along, they walk beside me, and these few friends have become my absolute rocks.

I drink water. Lots of water - and I should probably drink more. I occasionally will put in a little crystal light drink mix thingy, but that’s it. I still drink coffee every day, and I still use creamer. I switched to unsweetened almond milk. I have given up all pop and alcohol.

I eat from all food groups, I just record what I eat, and try eat in moderation. I do a kind-of old school weight watchers type thing I think - but I’m not officially a paying weight watchers person. I have some off brand old app I log everything into, along with another off brand old app where I try find what numbers I need to log from the food that I eat. No bar code scanning, no weekly weighing and meetings. I do weigh twice a week, but alone in my bathroom. I still eat carbs - even white sandwich bread. I still eat crackers and an occasional sweet… I just eat a whole lot more fruits, vegetables, and meats. I eat pork, beef, deer, chicken, turkey, fish, eggs… I eat dairy and cheese. I just watch how much I eat of it all. I take a multivitamin, a cascara sagrada, and some extra magnesium every day. I take a prescription sleeping pill every night, and some days a few alieve pain relievers (because I run, but I'm really not a runner...)

I try exercise several times a week. I don’t belong to a gym, I don’t have a personal trainer. I don’t lift weights, or crossfit, or bodypump, or yoga, or any kind of video things. I simply walk and I run - either on my treadmill or outside in the elements alongside the beauty of nature. I log my distance and time after most workouts. I trained and ran a half marathon in May. I hope to run another in June, and a final one in October. I did splurge and purchased an elliptical for my birthday this winter. Oh, and I convinced my husband last week to finally cobble together my now twenty-year-olds bike from ten years ago, so I can maybe start riding that too… but I haven’t actually convinced myself to get on it just yet.

I go to the chiropractor once or twice a month. And I have no opposition to medical doctors and using prescription and over-the-counter medication when needed.

I’ve bought a few new clothes at Maurice’s, the rest are from the second hand store. I buy my makeup at the dollar store and a few items through Mary Kay. I buy groceries from Hyvee solely because I can order online, I'll occasionally buy groceries in town if I have to. I hate shopping, especially at places like Walmart… so if I can’t order it online, I probably really don’t even need it.

I read. I journal. I write. I pray. I do devotions. I take time to be alone and in silence. I allow myself to do things that fill me, that I enjoy. I try openly share the real, the honest, the vulnerable from within, in hopes to simply bless and encourage someone else who may need it. I try leave myself open and available for anyone to reach out to me, to contact me, to be real with me in their struggle and hurt. No one needs to ache alone in silence… I merely want to be an open palm for a hand if they need someone to walk beside them.

So no, I’m not going to try contact you about anything. I’m not going to push or pedal anything (other than my own bike, but I’m not even to the point of convincing myself to even pedal that thing yet ~LOL). I’m also probably not interested in anything from anyone other than your support and encouragement. I’m not dissing or downing anyone out there who is passionate and believes in what they are invested in. Personally, I find their passion and drive an encouragement. But that’s not me, and if I would be interested in trying something they offer, I would be contacting them, be assured of that.

I have chosen to simply try live in a balance of natural health and diet and exercise, doing what over time I have found seems to work for me. I may continue onward with an occasional post and talk about the struggle, the reality, the journey I’m on. A journey of life, of love, of loss, of gain, of blessing, of failure, of curse, of struggle, of overcome. I can only hope some will choose to read and follow, but that’s entirely up to them… I will continue to be someone who will listen, will care, will encourage, and will not judge, because I have found life is hard - far too hard to go it alone and live in silently.

So, go find your rocks, find what works for you, and then just do it. If you haven’t found “it” yet, don’t give up, keep on looking, keep on trying. There’s a wealth of people, products, information, and plans available. I would suggest starting with your Bible, a bottle of water, and a three mile walk or jog outside, but whatever you chose, whatever your mix of motivation is, just choose it wisely, and then rock it with all your might - because you are worth it.

{ Next Blog Post "Social Media Mind Games" HERE }
{ Previous Blog post "Days of White" HERE }

Days of White

You know what this is… this is a blank screen… a sheet of boring white paper containing absolutely nothing. No words, no thoughts, no creativity, no color, no message.

Blank. Empty. Void.
Today I want to write, I want to create… but I have nothing.

Why is it some days are like this? Blank, empty, void of anything creative, moving, motivational… Lacking in depth, lacking in words, lacking in color, lacking in vibrancy.

And yet, I don’t actually think these exact days and seasons are actually lacking anything in their invisible layer of worth underneath. I think it’s days like this that are actually, in the long run, sometimes the most beneficial and the most necessary. The words and ideas and thoughts and colors might not be there today, but in the wake of their silence, they are still creating a foundation, a solid surface for all that creative chaos that is just around the corner.

It’s days and moments of white void that allow for us to more clearly see the days of vibrant color ahead. It’s quiet days of stagnant mind waves that help make way for the crashing waves of artistic expression later. It’s the mute days of mundane that lay the base in which the crazy can come to solidly plant their feet on in days, weeks, seasons yet to come. And it’s these days of “nothing” that allow you to more fully and more clearly reflect on all those days and moments of bold color that have already passed by and painted their lasting memories within our minds to draw and gaze upon in the museums of our minds.

I think sometimes we are so set on achieving and accomplishing and wanting to see the immediate fruit of our inner workings and creativity that we can find ourselves a little lost, a little hesitant, floundering perhaps a little in the lull, the low, the quiet within. For some reason we fear it’s actually a lack of something, and we don’t want to see it for the actual gift that it is.

Some days I’m actually grateful when my mind goes on vacation for a while. My life and my mind is filled with motion, filled with color, filled with chaos. There are days when all circuits are firing up there and I have a hard time harnessing and channeling all the thoughts and ideas and rabbit trails wanting to be chased after and caught. The words and thoughts and ideas bumping around in a grand explosion of color and force, desperately trying to distract me from the tasks and work and conversations immediately at hand needing to be completed. They entice, they distract, they suck me in, they envelope me with their power and prestige and promise and potency.

Enjoy the quiet, enjoy the days of the restful vacation of your mind. Sit back, make another cup of coffee, and simply enjoy the inner peace for the minutes and moments that it chooses to grace you with. You aren’t lost, you haven’t misplaced anything, you aren’t failing or even faltering. This is something I’ve come to realize is actually a gift, a get out of jail free card in the every day busy of the dice throwing, random card picking days of our every day life.

When our eyes open every day, we honestly don’t know what the day will all bring. We can have a dream, a plan for how we hope it will go - but every day is a new day, a different day than the day before. Every day is paving the day for tomorrow, for the future tomorrows.

Some days are filled with greatness, some days are filled with nothing great at all.

And yet, it’s all of the days of boring white that will someday boldly mix with all the days of amazing flash and color, creating for us an amazing canvas of majestic proportion on the overall artistic painting of our life’s story.

So, while today might seem boring and white inside, my curser just a quiet blinking little line on the very top of a very vast and white sheet of blank paper, I will trust my tomorrows will contain just the amount of color and richness that each day needs to to provide a palette mix of the most glorious bold hues in which God will continue to paint and create with for the most amazing life story inside and all around me.

Today I rest. I rest my mind, body, and soul. Today I celebrate the quiet white.

{ Next blog post "My Health, My Self, My God" HERE }
{ Previous blog post "The Relaxation To Do List" HERE }

My Relaxation To Do List

I woke up early this morning to distant thunder and sprinkles.

I went to bed last night mentally tired and physically exhausted after a long weekend of fun in the sun, the alarm clock set to 4:20am.  The calendar says it’s an interval run / walk day today on my half marathon training schedule. And it’s a day I actually chose to take off and cash in some PTO for. A me day at the lake, a day I shouldn’t have taken, but did none-the-less.

Last week I push, push, pushed to relax, relax, relax. I had worked all week at church, I had allowed my financial overwhelm to speak too loudly in my head and I went against my summer cake rule and I baked, decorated, and posted cupcakes for sale during the week.

I push all week so I can rush back to the lake to relax all weekend. This is the standard story of the entire summer. And it’s one that I’ve grown to love, and I am not complaining about in the least, but I’m thinking I should maybe feel a tiny bit more relaxed right now…

Now, it wasn’t that I hadn’t actually relaxed while I was at the lake this weekend, because I had… but I realized that I have been starting to try actually schedule my relaxation lately, and I’ve yet to decide if this is a good thing or not, it’s something I need to spend some time looking closer at.

I actually made a “Relaxation To Do List” of what to do at the lake this weekend.
- Long run (check - 9 miles)
- Finish book (check - and read an entire 2nd book cover to cover)
- Download and process all new photos (check - so many awesome new picts)

- Early morning long walk (check - 4 miles)
- Photograph wind turbines at sunrise (check - and it was breathtaking)
- Write a blog (check - wrote two actually)
- Be vulnerable and share swimsuit blog on FB (hmmmm - didn’t have enough wi-fi time and haven’t gotten up enough courage for that one yet)
- Short run (check - 5 miles, and it was HARD, really hard)
- Organize my new photos that came in the mail this week (check - oh how I love new photo orders I get to physically touch and sort)
- Take a nap (half a check - I tried. I laid down but don’t think I actually slept)
- Sunset photos at the wooden bench on the other end of the campground (check - God was good and didn’t disappoint, the pict I had in my head I was able to capture in reality)
- Scrapbook prep 30 pages (not yet, but I have a few hours yet…)
- Go on a bike ride (not yet… I’m oddly hesitant about getting on that bike for some reason)

These are all things I love, things that fill me, things that I honestly consider relaxation… but when you start to list them all together all on one weekend’s to-do list… I can’t help but wonder if that starts to actually turn them into work. I’m wondering why I feel such a deep need to try control, fill, and maintain that intentionally carved out time of rest.

I’m a type-A, perfection-run, list maker. I always have been. It keeps me going, it keeps me on task, it keeps me producing productively, it keeps me feeling like I’m accomplishing something real and tangible as I boldly cross off line after line with my black fat sharpie marker. As I wrote about earlier, I’ve just recently started to allow myself to put some of my personal, passionate things right on my big life’s “get ‘r done” to-do lists every week. I’m still tackling the monumental mundane every day, but I began to make sure that I was also allowing time and recognition for intentional soul care as well.

And then, somehow, here I ended up with a to-do list of just soul care items to do while I was to be intentionally relaxing at the lake.  Looking at this list (which is of course a book marker in my book), I started feeling oddly torn. While I love the idea of making sure I’m doing all these great passion-filled things for myself every day, that I’m being mindful of those crazy minutes that absolutely fly-by any time I’m intentionally trying to take a time of rest, I can’t help but ask myself if this is the best way to really relax.  Is pre-identifying my desired areas of passion, pre-defining the tasks I plan to do to help re-fill my depleted tank of self actually going to continue to be all that filling and all that relaxful if it suddenly becomes a requirement of achievement to accomplish every weekend?

This is the very thing I both love and hate about myself. This is the very thing that screams of my quirky, driven, overachieving personality. Apparently all my recent work on personal soul care, of slowing down, of balancing self worth with the overwhelm of world responsibilities has gotten just slightly derailed. This manic mom has apparently gone just a few tiny steps too far in my quest for finding and carving out time for myself.

So back to that 4:20 am alarm clock, back to the thunder and sprinkles…

I am still at the lake, I am cashing in that PTO day for just me today.. and you know what, I honestly feel like I need to hide this fact for some reason - like that I need to lie about where I am and what I’m doing, because I’m doing it solely for me, and I’m basically doing nothing at all today. What is wrong with me, seriously, why do I think this way?!?!

As I stood in the humid, dark haze on my deck at 4:25 am, tiny sprinkles starting to whisper on the wood beneath my feet, I decided today was going to be a day off - a day off from everything. I might go on a slow walk around the campground later, weather permitting, but I am not going to do my interval running miles today. I am not going to head down the road in my running gear, headphones, and silicone sally chirping my time, distance and average speed every five minutes in my ear for an hour. I’m not going to look at the to-do list and try strategically plan the remaining ten hours of this day of rest and silence.

I am going to brew another cup of coffee, I am going to allow myself to sit in this glorious silence of dusk, and I am going to wrestle with those demons of controlling chaos in my head that are telling me I need to plan, I need to do, I need to accomplish, I need to achieve, I need to compete, I need to complete that mountain of tasks and decided upon desires that are all around me. I will continue to try conquer that crazy that says I can’t allow myself to feel worthy, feel successful, feel accomplished, feel filled, feel whole, feel complete, feel enough until I have actually physically accomplished every single thing, on every single list, in every single area of my life.

Today I will sit. Today I will rest - both my mind and my body. Today I will mourn the incredible speed in which I know the minutes and hours will tick by… but hopefully I will not put a tangible value on the worth of what today is by the number of tasks I need to achieve.

May today merely be a day of complete rest, a day of granted grace, a day of powerful peace, a day worthy of being marked as great, even if not one great thing is actually done or accomplished.

And for someone like me, I think giving myself the freedom to actually not accomplishing anything, may just in fact be the biggest accomplishment ever.

{ Next blog post "Days of White" HERE }
{ Previous blog post "The Aging of Lily" HERE }

The Aging of Miss Lily

I believe our dearly beloved dog is nearing her end… granted we are all nearing our end with the passing of each day, but this is different, this is true aging at it’s most tangible.

She is so so tired, her little body unable to keep up anymore. Her little legs can’t function and carry her the way they used to, her breathing often heavy. Her youth, vitality, and vibrance are slowly being replaced by pain and sleep. While it makes me quite sad, I can’t help but think of the amazing memories and joy she brings to our little family every single day, and I smile, so grateful for getting the opportunity to simply have her in our lives.

Our little Lily is somewhat of a rescue dog. We don’t know her age, we don’t know her date or location of birth, we don’t know anything about her past before the day I picked her up, we don’t even know her actual name. She was dirty and matted, incredibly overweight, and well… I took her home after inquiring about her online. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if we were going to keep her, but I couldn’t will myself to drive away without taking her with me, even if that meant finding her another home myself if ours didn’t work. When I first brought her to the vet a few days later, it felt very similar to when I’d sat in the doctors office with our adopted littlest the first time. Nope, we didn’t know her medical history. Nope, we had no idea if she was chipped, if she was current on her shots, if she’d been neutered, if she’d ever been a mama, if she’d ever bitten anyone, or if she had ever been out of the country.

I don’t know how many times I’ve wished she could talk, that she could tell me all about her life and her adventures before our family while she’s nestled on my lap. Although, to be honest, it’s probably best we don’t know.

Our family quickly loved up Miss Lily, and she was soon deeply loved and connected to us, and us with her. She nestled right in and we take her everywhere we go. She loves the adventure as much as we do, maybe even more so somedays from the way she goes a little bananas every time the overnight bag comes out or we say the words “Shall we go for a ride?!?”

I think I was in a little bit of denial about her age when we got her, and over the years she has had to have most of her teeth removed and her little tongue now just hangs out the side of her mouth. I always feared she was maybe a little older than what they “thought” she was… and this past winter that reality was finally confirmed.

This winter she started to limp a little, and couldn’t jump up on her favorite chair and climb to the top to hang out and watch the day pass by through her high up little perch anymore. Spring came and camping season arrived, and we knew something wasn’t right. We didn’t know if she was just that out of shape, or if it was something more serious, but we all commented how much she had obviously aged since the fall. After a call from our groomer that she couldn’t even handle standing anymore to get her hair cut, we knew it was time to go in.

I of course feared the worst (cuz that’s the way this mama is wired… over-thinker, over-worrier, over-doer, over-processor). I feared she was going to have something causing her pain that wasn’t treatable, or the only option was for expensive surgery and we would have to choose surgery or putting her down. In the end… well, she is old… she has knee issues, which affect her hips, which affect her back, which caused arthritis, and she’s still a bit overweight (despite the fact she gets no table scraps and only two tiny cups of diet dog food a day ~ poor thing ~ lol)…

We were told she was, in fact, in a good amount of continual pain, and we needed to start her on long term joint and pain management medicine. I hoped for the best, but deep inside kind of knew this was probably the start to the end…

Her aging becomes more and more evident every week, as she gets slower and slower, and more and more frail and weak. I watched her fall down the stairs inside our camper this morning and I just about started to cry.

We all age, we all slow down, we all start to tire… it’s the natural cycle of life. I think we all openly pray we will get to live long, healthy lives and reach a ripe old age of greatness before it’s our time to begin our earthly slumber. But as I continue to watch her struggle and fail, I can’t help but think about the realities of entering into that “next phase” … that “final phase” ~ and not just in our little dog’s world and reality, but also in my own life and circle of family.

I think about and watch my parents, who are in the process of moving into nearly full time retirement after years and years of faithful and fruitful work and child rearing. They’re still very active and healthy and always on the go… they’re probably both busier now in retirement than they were when they were still working. But it’s also the entering into their “next stage” … which is another natural step in their aging, on their timeline of reaching that “final step.”

I watched my parents journey with both sets of their parents through their final stages. But I wasn't old enough to fully know the magnitude of those footsteps through those years and that season. I often desperately wish I had been more mature and had had more of those deep conversations with my grandparents that I would love to have now, but can’t.

My parents aren't there yet, and hopefully we have lots and lots of years ahead of us before we start to have to think about and have more of those larger conversations and transitions. But those days are coming.

Another reality is that their aging also signifies the reality of my own aging. I now have an adult child who is out on his own, making his own choices and responsibilities. Someday, he will be the one having to transition into taking care of me, having the big conversations with me. It’s kind of a sobering thought… and while it isn’t something I want to stop and dwell on in great depth, it is also something I don’t want to just ignore and brush off until later either.

I’m on a journey learning to live in the right now, but I’m also about being aware of the tomorrows. I am not one who wants to keep tripping over the past, or letting the future paralyze me, but I am one who is trying to be conscious of… to simply be aware of this amazing and wonderful full cycle of life. Conception, to birth, to death, and everything in between. We are all on our own little journey’s.

I want to help my children grow and mature gracefully. I want to help myself grow old gracefully. I want to help my parents grow old gracefully. I want to help our little Lily dog grow old gracefully. My heart just aches as I watch and care for her… and she is only a dog… I cannot even begin to imagine having to say goodbye to her, and worse yet, someday having to say goodbye to a human loved one.

I think about our little Faith MaryJo. Yes, we said goodbye to her - but that was different. That was a goodbye to a future, a dream, a what-if that was simply taken too soon. For my parents, and with their parents, those are goodbyes to memories, to great moments shared. Goodbyes to years and years of every single day togethers.

I’m gently reminded again of the grand importance of intentionality, of our need to take care of our health - our physical, mental, spiritual, relational health. We have no idea the number that God has put in our books of life… we don’t know when we’ll turn the page to the day that will be the last. We merely need to live and love well each and every possible day.

Our little Lilith might have lots of puppy months and years left, of course I don’t know that. I hope we all have lots of months and years left, but of course no one knows that either. It is my deep ache and prayer that we can all work on continuing to be aware, be involved, be diligent, be fully present, making things a little better each day… a little bolder, a little stronger, a little healthier, a little happier than the day before.

Say the I loves you’s. Say the I’m sorry’s. Say the I forgive you’s. Make the commitments. Spend the time, take the initiative. Listen, learn, love, before it’s too late. May we end each day being ok if it were to be our last. May we end each day being ok if it were to be anyone else’s last.

May we live fully with intentionality and greatness. May we live healthy, regret free, ready to embrace and say hello to tomorrow, while also being prepared to possibly have to say goodbye today. We are given this one life, this one great life… It’s ours for the taking, it’s ours for the making.

So go out - take hold, and do what you can, and do what you have to, to make it great, before it's simply too late.

{ Next blog post "My Relaxation To Do List" HERE }
{ Previous blog post "Hello Swimsuit Season" here }

Hello Swimsuit Season

I'm sitting at the beach, in the summer sun, in a swimsuit. A new swimsuit my husband helped me pick out and purchase from an expensive sporting goods store, something I have never allowed myself to do before.

I’m sitting at the same beach, with the same friends, at the same campground as the last three summers... although, I am a slightly different weight this year.

I have been diligently working at it all winter, and I returned this spring with a slightly transformed inside and outside. And yet as I sit here at the beach for the first time this season, I find I am still completely self conscious... still unhappy with my legs, still unhappy with the hanging skin of my underarms… still unhappy with the stomach that will never be flat after a c-section twenty years ago. I’m still looking around and comparing myself.

Yes, can you believe it - I am still unhappy with those same legs that I have been diligently training with and that recently allowed me to cross off completing a half marathon from my bucket list. Those legs continue to carry me mile after mile, and hour after hour, of continued half marathon training this summer. I worked so hard to lose the weight, to firm and tone, and now I’m seeing crepey skin, wrinkles, and cellulite that is still there.

I look at the stats I've copied over onto my calendar each month with the hours, and miles, and average paces I've logged each month. I look at the pile of books I’ve read, heavy with pencil marks and marginal notes. I look at the words I’ve written and shared about my journey. All that work, all those hours, all those miles, all that prayer and soul care... and here is sit… my self confidence seems to have missed the improvement memo.

Apparently simply losing weight does not magically lose the insecurities. Simply losing weight does not magically make our bodies perfect.

To be honest, I don’t think I actually expected it to. I’ve lived on the weight-loss roller coaster my whole entire life. For me in the past, the scale number goals that I gave myself were sometimes possible to attainable, but had never been sustainable. So I’m not sure why I thought this time might be any different. Perhaps it was because this time I haven’t been just work on losing the physical weight that hangs extra on my body… I’ve been diligently working on losing the spiritual and mental weight that also hangs so heavy inside me.

It is interesting how so often when we’re still standing on the other side - the before side, the ok let’s get this party started side, we stand there thinking ahead to the end results, to the final destinations - the when we finally accomplish / get / achieve that one thing, or those series of things… THEN we’ll be happy… THEN we’ll be content… THEN we’ll finally have peace and contentment.

But no matter how much we lose, no matter how much we accomplish, no matter how much we acquire or give away, I’m coming to grips with the reality, that it is simply never going to be enough.

Our bodies will never be perfect enough, our bank accounts will never be full enough, our relationships will never be filling enough, our possessions will never be new enough and big enough.

As John Maxwell beautifully states in his book Developing The Leaders Around You “The idea of arriving is an illusion. Our society is filled with people who arrive somewhere only to find themselves as discontented as they were before they succeed. The point of the journey is not arriving. The point is what you learn and whom you become along the way. Having goals is positive. Thinking that our journey is over once we achieve some of them is a danger we all face… Focus on the process, not the end product”

The point of the journey is not arriving. The point is what you learn and whom you become along the way. Yes, Yes, Yes. It’s so screamingly simple, so boldly complete. And yet, and yet… so incredibly hard to tangibly hang on to in the reality of our day-to-day living and breathing!

I look around at all the other people around me today at the beach. I look at the other moms and girls in their swimsuits. I look at the dads and boys in their lawn chairs and boats. Deep inside I know each and every one of us are all carrying around these same thoughts and insecurities as I am right now. We all look in the mirror and see the flaws we have pinpointed in our lives, we worry about the comparison game, we are all at war with the demons of “not enough” that bounce around like a rogue ping pong ball in our minds. It’s no wonder we all suffer from chronic headaches and exhaustion.

So, may I boldly ask… if we’re all dealing with this same thing inside, why do we allow it to continue? Why can’t we finally come to grips and shake hands with our imperfections and insecurities and merely stand up and say - hey world this is who I am. This is who God created me to be - cellulite, under arm jiggle, laugh line wrinkles and all. Look at me for who I am striving to be on the inside, look beyond the sin-filled flaws of my earthly body, look beyond the things you can judge me for and see me for who I am. All of me - the good the bad and the ugly. And then let’s stop looking at and judging all those around us and see them, and love them unconditionally for who they are, who God created them to be. Accepting them graciously and openly with all their good’s, bad’s, and ugly’s as well.

Let’s all make a pact to love more and judge less. Love ourselves more, love others more… judge ourselves less, judge others less. Stop comparing, stop complaining, stop striving for unattainable perfection.

Put on the swimsuit, join the gang down at the beach, get in the water and play with the kiddos. Stop caring quite so much about the things you fear others are thinking… I’ve been learning over the course of this crazy journey, that in reality - I’m the one who is entirely guilty of creating all sorts of untrue and unnecessary drama and conversations in my head with what I think other people are thinking or saying or feeling in regards to things involving myself and them. It’s my own inner insecurities busy at work day in-and-day out trying to convince myself that the world around me is out to get me, that the world around me is far bigger, and greater, and better, and thinner, and more accomplished, and more qualified at everything than I will ever be.

My inner demons want to keep me small, keep me weak, keep me dependent and focused on myself and my fears and my flaws. But God is eagerly holding out His hand to me, providing me strength, and courage, and the sustainability I need for each hour, each day. I have to choose to turn around to seek it and take it. I have to stand up and battle myself and my perfection insecurities.

I need to figure out what I do need as I continue to invest in, to mold, to change within myself while I strive to become a better person, but also figure out what I need to simply just let go of, just stop trying to change and perfect, because it’s just not worth it in the grand scheme of life.

I’m finding it’s a fine sticky line between know what I need to change, and what’s not worth changing. It’s a tricky area in the margins of betterment and contentment. It’s being self aware, but not quite so self conscious. It’s about granting favor and grasping fallen world falsities with dignity and grace. It’s balancing personal perfection complexes in a very impersonal and imperfect world.

Today it’s simply putting on the swimsuit, going to the beach, and getting in the water. Not caring, not comparing, not obsessing. Tomorrow I’m sure it will be something else that will loom large and try overtake me, but I’ll deal with that demon tomorrow.

Today is today. Tomorrow is tomorrow. I am who I am, and that is simply going to have to be enough. Of course I know it never will be, but in theory it sure sounds good, and it sure makes for an amazing journey of self awareness and self care. And I remind myself yet again as John Maxwell states… “The point of the journey is not arriving. The point is what you learn and whom you become along the way.”

{ Next blog post "The Aging of Miss Lily" HERE }
{ Previous blog post "#sunsetoclock" HERE }