Last Weekend at the Lake

It’s the last weekend at the lake.

The last weekend. How does that even happen?!?

Was it not just yesterday that it was early spring and we were opening up the camper and cleaning at the campground? Was it not just yesterday that we had the entire summer before us… ours for the taking, our memories for the making…

Oh I knew it was going to be a fast summer… it always is. I knew it was going to slip by in a blink… it always does. The quickness in the rushing passage of time over the summer did not surprise me, and the memories that were collected over that quick tick of the clock did not disappoint me.

Simply said, it was another amazing summer at the lake.

As I type those words I hesitate, feeling the urge to drag my cursor back over them and hit delete… or at least change them… try lessen their potency, puncture their power… downplay their grandeur. But it was amazing, and I’m not sure why that makes me feel so darn guilty, but it does. I’ve so often carried guilt in equal association with my time and experiences at the lake. Part of me wants to just hide away all the amazingness of my time here, and part of me wants to say, who really cares if people are jealous or don't get it. Get over it, go get yourself a camper, and grab the vacant spot up the row from us. (ummmmm, sorry)

It’s no lie, I love the lake. I love the peace. I love the nature. I love the water. I love the sunrises and sunsets. I love the laughter and activity. I love the slower pace, the relaxed environment, the change in routine. I love the acceptableness of sitting… of being… of enjoying the luxury of community without expectation and explanation. I love that God is here, always near, always breathing in the breeze, whispering in the wind, listening in the liquid lapping of waves upon the shore.

There’s magic in the shores of this place, and on the docks and decks of this community. I know I’ve said this before, but I truly believe it to the very core of my soul. There is a salve, a balm, a healing power here that slowly just seeps into the very pores of your skin, into the very depths of your soul, redirecting you, refreshing you, refilling you, rejuvenating you, relaxing you, releasing you.

I think back to a year ago… it’s been quite the year this these past twelve months. It’s been quite the summer these past five months. The amount of miles I logged on my running app at this sacred place this season leaves me humbled and honored. I did not miss one workout, one scheduled run while I was here this summer. Not overly impressive for most probably, but near miraculous for me. In two quick weeks I will be, Lord willing, running 13.1 miles with hundreds (possibly thousands!?! eek) with an official race bib and timed GPS chip pinned neatly to my shirt. Who would have thought. Surely not I.

Yesterday my hubs game me the unexpected gift of one last long run at the lake this morning. All summer I ran all my long runs here at dawn on Friday mornings. The last few weeks, now that school is back in session, I have had to run those double digits miles around and around the blocks and blocks of our tiny town… and it’s hard enough just making yourself have to run that distance, and to me it seems even harder to have to keep weaving up and down streets here, there, and everywhere just to get in the milage length I needed. And there is just something about running at the lake… under the black canopy of stars and wispy night clouds that slowly emerges into the vibrance of the awakening dawn… in the middle of nowhere with this indescribable beauty of nature and countryside spreading far and wide all around you.

I don’t know how many photos I’ve taken or how many miles my shoes have logged this season. I don’t know exactly how many days and nights I’ve spent here or how many miles I’ve put on my vehicle coming and going here every week. I don’t know how many laughs and conversations I’ve enjoyed here or how many tears I’ve shed here (happy and sad). I don’t know how many golf cart rides I’ve gone on, how many naps I’ve taken, books I’ve read, or blogs I’ve written here. I don’t know how many cups of coffee and bananas I’ve eaten here… but I know it’s been a lot in each and every one of those categories. A lot a lot… And a lot of peace and grace. A lot of silence and quiet, a lot of laughter and activity. A lot of alone time, a lot of family time, and a lot of community friendship time. The perfect mix of soul care, self awareness and growth, and family and friend time. It’s been hours in the sun, hours under the stars, hours spent alone, hours spent together, hours spent with God.

Words and photos honestly can’t really capture or describe all this place is and does to me and for me. And I’m ok with that, because in my head… in the endless slide show in my mind… is a continual looping of so many amazing things… so many edifying things… so many happy and filling things that mix and match and mesh with the here and there and everywhere's of my everyday, no matter where I am or what time of year it is.

The memories, the moments, the miles, the miracles, the magic. This place holds it all, offers it all, delivers it all. As in every place and every day of our lives, our life simply is what we choose to make it. And I have chosen to make this place, and this season each year, a priority, a splurge, an indulgence, a justification, a filled need. Yes, I do carry guilt with this, but obviously not enough to actually keep me from continuing to come here.

It’s a bittersweet day today knowing tonight will be my last sleep here. Today was my last long double digit half marathon training run (which I’ve been at allllllll summer long), my last day alone, my last sunrise, my last sunset, my last hurrah before we wake up tomorrow morning and start packing up and closing it all up until next spring.

Tomorrow when I drive away, I won’t get to come back for seven long, cold months.

Oh how I thank the Lord for getting us to this place three seasons ago. We drove in, looking only to hide and hurt alone as we journeyed and mourned the loss of Faith MaryJo. We did hide, we did hurt, we did mourn, we did slowly start to heal in tiny ways… oh but God had a much larger vision beyond that low and horrible season and moment in our lives. He brought us here as a long term gift for each of us in so many ways…. so many many ways. I am grateful for the abundance and blessing we received here in our loss. I honestly can’t imagine my life without all of this, which I say and try express in the most humblest and honoring of ways.

I’m not sure if I’m actually supposed to publicly encourage this - but choose to live life to the fullest. Choose to embrace the magic and moments that bring you greatest joy and fulfillment. Choose to live life just a little slower, a little more intentional, a little more fuller and richer. Choose to put yourself and your family first before getting lost and caught up in the chaos of everything else screaming for our time and attention. Choose to say no to some things so you are able to actually say yes to other more important and filling things. Choose to be healthy, choose to be happy. Choose to allow God to show up, choose to listen to His whisper, choose to allow Him to abide in and around you where you feel Him most clear and near, simply put yourself where you know you’ll experience Him, He’s waiting for us… He’s patiently waiting for each and every one of us. Choose to be a tiny bit selfish, a tiny bit indulgent, a tiny bit greedy. You are absolutely worth it.

Find your personal lake life, find what fills you, and simply grab on. I did, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

I thank the Lord for the land, sand, water, beaches, boats, birds, bonfires, decks, docks, silence, laughter, vibrant skylines, friendships, family, health, happiness, memories, and the many many moments of this past season here at the lake. Thank you.

I will drive away with a smile mixed with more than a few tears tomorrow, grateful, thankful, and beyond blessed.  Absolutely beyond blessed.

{ Previous Blog post "Skinny Jeans" HERE }

Skinny Jeans

I'm not sure everyone will get this, especially guys... but I'm going to go out on a limb and assume there is at least a small handful of people out there who can relate to this.

Skinny Jeans.

You know those jeans somewhere in your house... either in a box in the basement, on a hanger in the back of your closet, on the bottom of a dresser drawer... Where ever they are... they are there. Kept and waiting. Waiting for you to someday pull them back out and attempt to put them back on.
Someday, they may even be again worn out in public. Someday. Maybe. But... not today, and probably not next month.

But they're there, you know where they are. They are your most favorite pair of jeans you own, you probably even spent a little more on them than you typically allow yourself to spend on jeans. Because when you bought them... you felt beautiful. You felt thin. You felt successful and healthy... and special.

They were one of the last pair you bought during you last "season" of weight loss success, and they are one of the first you stopped wearing when the weight slowly started crawling back on.

Memories attached to those jeans include surges of great joy as you slipped them on the first time and turned around to admire and critically judge them, and your body in them, in the mirror. But they passed the test, and they gave you a great feeling of fullness and accomplishment. They also carry with them the angst and frustration associated in the feeling of increased tightness in their fabric when the pounds came back... the voices in your head whispered their lies of failure in the physical uncomfortableness of pinched skin in too tight jeans.

These two opposing memories and attachments keep you from allowing yourself to get rid of them. Someday. Someday you will be there again. And someday they will still be there waiting... even if they are incredibly old and out of style. They will still be there to be the final judge on just how far you still need to go, or just how far you have finally again come.

Ok... is this just me?!? Someone tell me surely this is not just me...

Well. I have been on a weight loss and return to health journey for the last year. And you know what... I actually got back into my Skinny Jeans. Yes I did. I even wore them to work a few times this spring. I even had to wear a belt with them once (not that they were BIG by any means... but when you have butt and hips that are bigger than your waist... well, you are doomed to have to wear and mess with belts and pant waist pucker issues basically every day of your life. I often had extra belt loops sewn on to the back of my jeans to try control that huge gap problem that happens below your back kidney area any time I wore jeans that were big enough to fit over my butt and hips.)

But that's another blog post for another day. I digress, sorry.

Anyway... skinny jeans, belts, closet cleaning, and slowly replacing and finally letting go of a lot of clothes that didn't currently fit... that's a slow little sub journey I have been on through my larger and broader current weight loss journey.

A few weeks ago I purged about 80% of my clothes. Gone. Donated. Done. Minus that sacred box of bigger jeans I safely tucked away in the basement for... you know... when I'm going to need them again. Because I will. Because I always do.

I've been quite hesitant to buy a lot of new clothes, but have slowly been adding. A few from the local second hand store, and a few from my new favorite place, Maurice's.

I'm Dutch, I hate shopping, and I'm a tightwad and a total bargain shopper... I always have been... so I often scroll through their clearance section online... and a few weeks ago I found a pair of Silver brand jeans on sale for 80% off, with free shipping to their local store, located in the town about ten minutes away. The only kicker is, they only came in a size that was much smaller than the last pair I had boughten. (Silver brand jeans have been one of my previous allowable splurges because they just fit and felt so good. I have a "big" size pair and I had a "smaller" size pair of the same cut and color). There was also free returns, and I honestly didn't even know what size jeans I currently even wore... so in a moment of shear weakness I purchased them.

About a week and a half later I got an email they were ready for pickup.

Only I wasn't ready to pick them up.

I had woken up one day during that timeframe, and my mind had switched gears on me. My mind had decided to give in to the battle of hard and was wanting to turn and leave this current season of weight loss and head back to a much more simplistic season... that dreaded season of weight gain. Read more HERE about this.

So here I am, sitting in flux between wanting to quit and wanting to continue forward. Lord knows I do not want to walk away from all I've accomplished, all I've overcome this time... but the inner pull to quit is so intense, and so tempting, and so justifiable right now. And I know me... I know myself... and I always end up right back where I started... usually with an extra 5-10 pounds in addition towing along in the cellulite and thickened hips, butt, and waistline.

I let those jeans sit there waiting for me to pick them up for two weeks. I was fairly certain there were not going to fit in the first place, when I was at my thinnest on the day I ordered them... and then I had gained six pounds in six days... and I couldn't figure out how to go forward or backward again at that point... But I knew I needed to just go and pick them up, and return a dress I had decided not to keep. (It was more of a financial excuse that I needed the return money vs really wanting to pick up those jeans if I'm honest).

She handed the jeans over to me and I held them in my hands. I'd forgotten how much I had loved my past Silver jeans. I decided to try them on in the store, I wasn't even going to take them home.

In that dressing room I stood getting ready to put my foot into them. We always look out absolute worst at that moment, nearly naked and exposed in the bad overhead lighting and the enormous mirrors only a foot in front of us. We stand there in our underwear and see our legs, our cellulite, our screaming flaws and imperfections. And then we need to put something on, something we have no idea how will fit, or if we will even be able to get it on...

Well, I put my foot in, then the second... and I slowly pulled them up. And they actually went on. And they zipped. And they weren't too long (rare rare rare because I'm short short short) and... I didn't even need a belt.

"Like a glove" quietly whispered, almost inaudibly, through my mind.

And that I must add, never happens for me. And I honestly had a hard time standing there processing it all. I saw the full price printed on the tag (one dollar away from triple digits), knowing I got them for a steal, and thinking to myself that I might actually take them home with me.

Ten minutes later I walked out the door with them tucked and neatly folded in that beautiful aqua Maurice's shopping bag. I felt humbled and also filled with dread and heaviness.

Should I have even bought them? Surely they aren't going to even fit me anymore by next week. What was I thinking?!? I got home and laid them on my dresser, on top of the aqua bag, with the receipt neatly in top. All ready to be returned.

And then then two days later, after walking past them twenty-five times, I put them back on and stood looking at myself in my much smaller, toothpaste spatter-filled bathroom mirror... and I decided to wear them to work. I took the tags off, but did not throw them away. I put them on top of the bag and the receipt.

I left the house with them on. For some reason I am incredibly hesitant to actually wear the correct fitting pants right now (because until now I hadn't even bought myself any), I'm fearful of what people will say or think when they see me (which I totally know is all made up stories in my head... because no one other than myself really sees or cares or is even thinking about me, other than me. But there is just something about wearing them, being seen - really seen as I am today, right now, knowing I probably won't be able to sustain this same look long term... so why even show it at all then...?!?) Well, I went to work with them on. I walked out in public with them on. And I had forgotten how great it felt to wear a great pair of great fitting jeans... without needing to wear and fiddle with a belt every time I sat down and stood back up.

I decided to keep them (mostly probably because I dropped my entire bowl of hot oatmeal on the floor over noon-hour that day and a few little splatters got on them, so now I have to wash them and they're no longer returnable. {Wink}).

And with the reality of keeping them, also means that these jeans have now officially become my new Skinny Jeans. And there's a lot of emotional attachment and association with that.

I love them today, but I also know I will probably hate them by next week. These same jeans that made me feel like a million bucks two days ago very well are going to make me feel like a complete and utter failure two months from now as I quietly fold them and place them at the bottom of my drawer.  There is always a love / hate relationship with Skinny Jeans. Well, at least for me anyway...

Yes, maybe they will be the inspiration and incentive I need to continue on with the battle... but probably not. At least not with the track record I currently have in the books.

I don't know what the life and story of these mighty, brand new, first owner Silvers are going to be for me. I can tell you all about the stories of the Skinny Jeans that just retired, and officially got replaced, so I know these babies are going to serve a purpose and will be my new best friend and my absolute worst enemy all in one finely woven, dark denim, little demon with a designer label, and a very small tag size sewn on the inside.

I carry high hopes, but realistic expectations at this point. I would love to wear these to Christmas with my family Christmas morning. We shall see... we shall see... and I will merely hope and pray for the best.

And I'm going to give all of you permission to ask me to post a selfie Christmas morning... and in that selfie will either be me in these jeans... or me in my other Silvers, from that box on the back shelf currently in my basement. But I'll be honest with you as to which pair they are. But I am going to set a goal that I'm still wearing these beauties, and they're still making me feel as beautiful in them as I do right now.

Not that beauty is defined by waist size and jeans, I absolutely know that... but rather the feeling of "beautiful" associated with the long term success at still actually fitting into them.

{ Previous blog post "Friday Sabbath" HERE }

Friday Sabbath

Earlier tonight I wrote about leaving tonight for the lake (click HERE) ... and I left mad and upset, and in a hurry, and filled with a mind of muddled emotions. Thank you spelling words, grumpy boys, and female hormones for coming together for a perfect storm of family meltdown.

After my hasty departure, on the way to the lake, I realized I'd forgotten one of my prized possessions - my good camera. I had to resort to taking sunset photos with my low res, high pixel camera phone. I also forgot all my veggies at home from the fridge. I had to resort to carrots out of a can.

And then I realized ... I forgot my laptop charger. My blood pressure went through the roof and my disappointment pulled the floor from under me. I have an entire day at the lake tomorrow... all.by.myself.  I couldn't wait.

I was finally going to drink my coffee, on my sacred and quiet deck, and write the day away, to try capture the words and images summersaulting around in my head lately. And I was going to venture out with my camera and capture some beautiful nature shots.

Apparently God has slightly different plans than I do. It's forecasted now to rain, no camera, and soon to be no laptop charge. Perhaps I'll have to resort to old school paper and pen. Hmmmmmmm.

I'd love to say I'm excited to see what God actually has in store for me tomorrow, but I'm not. I'm upset and disappointed in myself.

But deep within I know... I know these are the instances when I need to merely open my clutched hands and trust. Let go and let God. He has proven over and over in my life that He's got this, He's got me... I just continue to have a hard time wanting to relinquish that stronghold of control.

An intentional Friday Sabbath is scheduled for me tomorrow. A day of silence and rest. Of soul care and soul filling. I had planned to achieve this through two avenues I love - the lens of my camera and the keyboard of my laptop.

And then I forgot to take them along, because I left the house angry... so tonight I will rest. I will sleep with no alarm and no planned morning long run, my body also getting a scheduled Friday Sabbath instead of my usually early morning long run Fridays.

I will simply embrace the day tomorrow and try view it as a surprise gift from the Lord, instead of a pre-planned day from myself. A day of submission and listening to His whisper. A day of true Sabbath in the way God directs, not in the way I control.

{ Next blog post "Skinny Jeans" HERE }
{ Previous Blog Post "I Almost Missed This" HERE }

I Almost Missed This

Tonight I misplaced my patience, I raised my voice, I lost my temper, and I drove away mad. Really mad. Mad at both myself, and the two I had just lost my cool with inside our house.

Over what else… but spelling words. Those damn spelling words. And apples. And spelling words inside of drawn and colored apples. And it wasn’t the first time this week we have fought over this very very same exact thing. None of us won tonight. Ugh.

I know we’re not supposed to admit we sometimes lose our cool and raise our voices. I know that’s the stuff we’re supposed to keep quiet, keep hidden, keep in denial about. But hey… I surely can’t be the only mom out those who occasionally loses her marbles at 5:30 p.m. between that miserable time of transition between work and school to home… They keep it together (mostly) at school, we keep it together (mostly) at work - and somehow we get ourselves back home and we.are.done. Done done.

And how easily we can slip from our most polite and put together selves, to our most ugly and falling apart selves.

Well… I fell apart, and I raised my voice, and my garage door was open, and my neighbors were outside so I'm sure they heard it, and then… I drove away angry and upset. I carried a heavy grudge on my shoulders and a deep ache that burned in my heart. Our inner ugliness has a way of dragging us down with such force and determination it’s actually quite frightening to me sometimes.

I didn’t just drive away for an hour or two… with time to come back and attempt to make amends. Nope - I drove away for the night, and most of tomorrow. I drove away to another state, to spend time alone, in silence, by myself… I drove away leaving behind a wake of shrapnel and no way to repair it, except through time and distance. Sometimes that is the best thing for everyone… But my parents always said to never go to bed angry. “Never let the sun set on an angry heart….” "In your anger do not sin": Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry." ~ Ephesians 4:26.  Ok maybe it was Jesus that said it… but it’s what kept playing over and over, again and again, in my mind as the miles started ticking off.

I got about ten miles down the road and started realizing all the things I’d forgotten, in my angry haste to get in the last word and drive away. One of the items left behind was my beloved canon camera. I contemplated turning around for it… but I looked at the time and there just wasn't time to turn around and still get to where I was going by the time I wanted to get there.

I was upset, and I was on a mission. On a mission to get to my happy place one last time. On a mission to embrace utter silence, peace, rest for just a few blessed hours. I was on a mission to witness #sunsetoclock by myself tonight. After realizing my good camera was not in the car with me, I almost laughed, just knowing there was going to be a fabulous sunset to witness tonight, and no way of really fully capturing it… except through the grainy pixelated lens of my camera phone. While better than nothing, it was still not what I wanted or had planned.

I drove in silence much of the way, my little Lily Lou nestled and sleeping on my lap in her usual traveling posture. She snored and lay limp across my legs… and I slowly stroked her ears, wondering why in the world I always and forever allow life to get so darn hard. It’s got to be me, it’s got to be some ridiculous personal problem that I just can’t seem to ever conquer. I’m always big emotion and over the top drama inside. Intense, overactive, and just an all-in-all a hard person to live with and love.

I know it… and yet I just can’t seem to change it. Like so many other areas of my life. Aware, but seemingly helpless to do anything about it.

Sixty one minutes later I put on my blinker and turned left into the campground entrance. The sun was about thirty minutes from setting and directly in front of me over the water. The clouds were wispy, a little feathery, and delicately dodging in and out of those golden rays of setting sun. I could have driving my car right into the sunset from that road.

I stopped the car and just looked out the windshield at it all for a while. I drove on slowly and unpacked the contents of my vehicle onto our deck. I slowly walked to the beach as the sun continued to silently slip lower, and lower, and lower. I found myself sitting on some rocks along the edge of the beach, my Lily sitting beside me. The air was perfectly calm, the breeze not even a whisper. The clouds reflected off of the water, and the rays of sun sparkled and danced through the sky and the water in a uniform mirrored dance of seductive peace.

I sat there, as the reds, oranges, and pinks turned into lavenders and blues, and that giant orb of fire went from visible to invisible on the other end of the lake, disappearing into the black tree line over the far west horizon.

It didn't make a sound, this sun that slowly set. The only sound was the crickets and little scurries of squirrels, frogs, and other small animals. I could hear the collective buzz of a million mosquitoes as I sat there in the stillness.

And I thought to myself… “Wow, I almost missed this,” immediately mixed with a small whisper that I probably should have missed it. I should have stayed at home longer, I should have apologized, I should have made amends, I should have this… and I should have that…

But I didn’t. I chose to not. I chose to drive away, and I arrived in the exact time I needed to in order to sit amid the silence, amid the golden beauty of natures artwork at it’s very finest, God’s most elegant form of paint strokes and expression. I breathed in deep, and found tears dripping down, leaking from the corners of my eyes.

Soon there was small sobs, my very own small sobs, seeping into the silence of the night, into the purples and deep blues of the lingering and fading sunset. My happy place suddenly filled with sadness. I sat there overwhelmed. Overtaken by unbelievable and moving beauty of the moment, and by the emotions woven into knowing the end of this season is again so close and nearly upon us. Overtaken by the emptiness that has yet again exposed itself inside me, and the emotional drain of day-to-day life.

Mixed with my personal awe and ache, was also the selfish burning reality in knowing I didn’t lose my house or anyone I love in a hurricane recently. I am not currently in an epic battle of illness or cancer, and neither is anyone in my family. I’m not without a job, I am not without anything. All I have is angst and frustration over homework, and serving supper, and folding laundry, and feeling under appreciated and overworked and overlooked.  I have it so easy, and so very good right now… and yet, I allow myself to feel so overwhelmed and so overtaken by all if it sometimes. I am so blessed and so rich in comparison to the majority of the world… and yet here I am worrying about our finances and I am completely coming unglued over spelling words (for the five hundredth and tenth time).

“Wow, I almost missed this…” I repeated the words again as I watched the navy fade into the magic and blackness of the night, the traces of that early vibrance now gone, the gentle touch of God resting lightly on my shoulders.

What else have we have also missed because we were too busy, too distracted, too overwhelmed, too emotional, too busy looking inward at than outward for?  Too busy chasing, racing, and running. Too busy drowning in the noise, too busy ignoring in the overwhelm. Too busy fighting control in the day-to-day battles of life and survival in a fallen world.

Too busy letting satan in and letting satan win.

The beast of busy feeds and preys on every aspect of our lives. It leaves us empty, it leaves us numb, it leaves us bitter, it leaves us lonely, it leaves us broken, and emotional, and irrational. We live with a “suck it up buttercup” mentality which somehow seems to just leave us all hardened and hurting. We’re too scared to be real, honest, raw, vulnerable. We’re too selfish and driven to stop and realize life is so much more than about just ourselves. We’re propelling forward at a speed too fast to stop, too dangerous to slow.

But we must… oh how we need to carve out the silence, make time for the slow, take time for the retreat. We have to look up from our phones and away from our laptops long enough to see and taste all that which we are possibly missing. We need to breathe deep and just let a lot of it go.. the burdens, the expectations, the perfections. We need to learn to operate in the grace mode rather than the destruction mode

I drove away angry and falling apart… and arrived empty and a little lost. I sat in awe at the beauty, in overwhelm at the passing of time, and torn between the weight of the burdens I bear and the blessings I have showered upon me.  It's an odd and incredible and vastly emotional chasm to reside in.  It's selfish, it's selfless. It's lost, it's hope filled. It's filled with failure, it's filled with grace. It's filled with joy, it's filled with despair.

I almost missed this moment tonight… I almost missed all of this. But I didn’t, and I’m grateful.  Grateful, laced with a tiny bit of regretful.

I sit here in the black of the night wondering... Wondering about all the moments that we might miss. Wondering why we allow our days and time and attention to get so filled, so waylaid that we stop seeing, stop recognizing, stop observing.

What moments have we all already missed? What moments are we all going to proactively stop allowing to slip unnoticed through our fingertips?  No one else can actively change this within us except ourselves.  It is my prayer for myself, and for all of us, that we can continue to slow.  Continue to fill our selves and our souls.  Continue to look up, look out, look within, look without... without the distractions and devices that keep us so deprived and deceived. 

May we live a life of fullness and fulfillment.  May we live a life influential to others.  May we live a life of raw honesty and deep vulnerability... and grace... lots and lots of grace... especially for all those moments of manic mama meltdowns over spelling words and math flashcards.

{ Next blog post "Friday Sabbath" HERE }
{ Previous blog post "My Blue Ink Inspiration" HERE }

My Blue Ink Inspiriation

I have found myself at the lake this morning, in the dark, thinking over the events of the week. The chaos, the busy, the events, the emotions, the hectic pace and packed calendar. I’m grateful for this moment of grace-filled peace… so so grateful. This deep breath, this quiet time, this call to reflection and recognition.

So much of my week was spent frustrated, rushed, heavy, emotionally taxed. I spent much of my week weary and worried. Some of it due to the nature of the time of year, some of it due to the nature of the personality God has “blessed” me with.

Rest is hard for me. Calm is hard for me. Go-with-the-flow is hard for me. Letting go and letting God is hard for me.
Yet over and over again I feel that these are the very things God is laying across my path, things that can so easy trip me up and get in my way if I’m not intentionally watching for, to try gracefully climb over before violently falling over them.

This morning I was reading a book (an amazing book - Still Waiting by Ann Swindell), and I underlined a paragraph. In my hand was a blue ball point pen. My blue marks mixed with the black marks from the person who previously read and underlined. The blue lines made me smile, and I thought… “I love blue ink…” And that simple thought led me to spend some time thinking about what fills me, what makes me joy filled, what makes my soul shine and my heart sing… Intentional thoughts of little things, tiny things, really probably insignificant things to the majority of the world around me…

And yet, I found it an amazing blessing, this blue ink inspiration… What a wonderful way to start a quiet morning at the lake.

What are the things you love, the things that bring you peace, and joy, and love, and fill your dangerously low tanks? Take some time and really allow yourself to think about this… jot down some words, no matter how big or how small, no matter how cool or seemingly silly… What really are some of the tiny threads that make up the whole of the fabric woven into your joy, your strength, your happiness, your sanity, your bucket-filling awesomeness??

Here are just a few of mine.

• I love blue ink, fat ball point pens.

• I love the glow of soft lamp light.

• I love whispering breezes through trees and leaves, while birds sing and nature quietly bustles around me.
• I love the golden changing hues of sunsets and sunrises. I love the click of my camera in my attempts to capture the vibrance and magic of God’s daily artwork.
• I love getting to push the stop button on my running watch at the end of a run. Stop. Save. Workout complete.
• I love reading a good book in the quiet.
• I love the soft glow and flicker of a fireplace or campfire.
• I love unhurried, un-rushed, unscheduled time alone, time at home, time away.
• I love the smell of fresh ground coffee beans and fresh brewed coffee.
• I love coming home to the lingering smell of warm cupcakes or baked bread as you open the door and re-enter hours after the ovens have been turned off.
• I love watching my children sleep sweetly and peacefully at the end of a long day.
• I love logo-ed hoodies and coffee mugs from the near and dear places I’ve been to.
• I love how my dog loves me, how she nestles in next to me and drifts off to sleep, so close, so peaceful as I slowly pet her soft fur and listen to her quietly snore.
• I love the sound of keyboard typing as words, thoughts, paragraphs, pages, form on the screen in front of me. Thoughts, feelings, emotions, colors captured through the black and white world of words.
• I love the sound of a howling winter blizzard outside when all my chickadees are warm and safe and home together under one roof.
• I love receiving unexpected words of joy, thanks, affirmation, recognition.
• I love the sound of unabashed laughter, especially that including my husband, my children, my best friends.
• I love when my running music app, on shuffle mode, chooses and starts one of my favorite songs randomly when I’m struggling most and wanting to quit, giving me just enough energy to keep going just a little longer.
• I love late night texting with friends… the deep conversations, the odd conversations, the hard conversations, the ridiculously silly and bizarre conversations between best friends.
• I love knowing God is always pulling me towards Him, even when I am pulling and running as hard as I can in the opposite direction… I just love the imagery in my mind of Him softly, quietly, lovingly pulling me to Him - over and over and over again… not in frustration or anger, but merely in patience and love, whispering “Come back home my child… come back home, I’m waiting for you…”
• I love early mornings and the hours and minutes before dawn, before the start of the rest of the worlds day, when the seconds on the clock still quietly whisper, and the promise and hope of calm and quiet still exist.
• I love the occasional late nights after the house is asleep and I’m still awake, walking quietly through the house that is lit only by two dim corner lamps.
• I love being in a clean house, counters with nothing on them, sinks that are empty, mirrors that are free of spots and splatters, floors and surfaces free of dust and grime.
• I love the deep and heady smell of lotions, candles, oils, heated melts in the scents of coconut, vanilla, coffee, baking, outdoors, woodsy…
• I love scrapbook paper, paper cutters, photographs, paper scraps, stickers, scissors, glue sticks, the surge of memories and the rush of reliving past events through the simple sight and touch of precious photographs.
• I love stacks of books. Stacks of books already read filled with underlining and margin notes, and stacks of books with still crisp white pages, words calling out and waiting to be read and ingested.
• I love the look of a crisply made bed with all the decorative pillows neat and in place.
• I love the little hint of sparkles, the little shimmer of glitter, the happy reflection of reflection.
• I love long dangly, decorative, colorful earrings with fish hook posts.

You know, I guess I could continue on and on as I realize that there are many more things that I love, that fill me with joy and happiness, that give me strength and hope, that can be woven in to my very core to straighten, lengthen, and enhance my simple every day life, love, and experiences.

Little things that perhaps add up in big ways.

My list of loves is probably rather odd, my own little “quirks” as I call them, that make up the meat and bones, the core of who I am, what I feel, and why I do what I do. We all have our own set of personal “quirks” that make us special and unique. We all enjoy, seek, and require different stimuli and requirements to help round ourselves out spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and physically. It’s how we were created, how we’ve been hard-wired for greatness.

Let’s all spend some time reflecting on the things we love today, on the things that bring us joy… rather than on the things that bring us stress and that bring us down. Breathe in deep and take stock of the good things in and around us, the warm things, the happy things. Seek the joy, find the happiness, hang on to the laughter. Let’s tuck the chaos and the fretting away for just a few minutes while we search our minds for the things of fullness and fulfillment within ourselves.

Let’s all take some time to thank the Lord for our life, our breath, our family, our friends, our health, our wealth, our provision, our joys, our gifts, our talents. Let’s intentionally seek that which fills us. Embrace the good. Cling to the things we love and the people we love. Surround ourselves with the things that make us better people, so in turn, we can reach out and touch the lives of those around us, making the world happier, healthier, stronger and filled with calm, grace, hope, acceptance, and love.

{ Next blog post "I Almost Missed This" HERE }
{ Previous blog post "I've Been At This For A Year" HERE }

I've Been At This For A Year

It was almost a year ago exactly that I sat on this very couch and wrote my first blog addressing weight… specifically my weight, and my discontent with my current health, and my frustration and uncertainty as to what to do about it.

I would fight it… and fight it… but in time I would finally decide I had no choice but to jump in both feet. It’s been a daily battle, a daily journey every day since. It’s been a daily choice to choose to be healthy and rejoice in all I’ve gained or to choose to wallow in sorrow over all that I’ve lost.

My whole life I have battled my weight. My whole life I have juggled between a thirty to forty pound high and low weight, always on either one end or the other… very rarely am I somewhere in between. All in - or all out.

If you’ve known me longer than five years… you’ve have watched me cycle though this at least once… possibly twice. Typically it’s about a three to five year cycle. I let myself go… the weight slowly creeps back on… first three pounds… then five… then a week or two later it will be up to ten…. and I’ll give up and will be up another ten or more within the next month. I’ll hover in this state of disappointment and frustration for a while, a long while... years sometimes... and then finally decide to get my poop in a group yet again, and begin the battle and fight those scale numbers downward yet again.

It always takes me a while to get going… to convince myself… to convince my body it’s time to “do it again…” And once I’m back on the bandwagon… I’m all in. It’s all or nothing… do or die… black or white.

No cheating, no rest, no skipped workouts, no if’s ands, or buts. It’s go big or go home time. I’ll gain back the control, I’ll take back the wayward reigns of my mind and willpower and zone in. And yes, I know I’m on the obsessive compulsive side of it all as well.

I’ve also come to know it’s not going to last… it never does, or at least never has in the past. Yes, it will last for a little while, maybe a year or so if I’m lucky… It will be great and glorious for a little while… and it will almost even be easy and fun for a little while. I’ll be all on board, all hands on deck, all miles in the training program for a little while.

And then one day I will wake up and the tides will have turned inside me. I’ll be tired. I’ll be weary. I’ll be hungry. I’ll be weak and emotional. I’ll choose sleep over exercise, I’ll choose bread over berries, I’ll choose chocolate over carrots.

I’ll choose to start giving in and I’ll choose to start giving up.  I will choose to start quitting.

And so the landslide will again begin. One Tuesday I’ll weigh in and gasp at the six pound gain. I’ll begin the battle in my mind, begging myself to hang on a little longer… keep at it a little longer… remain diligent a little longer. I’ll swear to myself up and down that it’s still soon enough to stay in control, I can still re-lose those six pounds and continue onward. I’ve slipped but I haven’t completely fallen just yet.

Then I’ll talk myself into skipping the next few weigh ins… knowing I’ve made a few more poor choices over that time, knowing the scale number will not have decreased. I will fear the number that will show… I will fear the numbers I’ll have gained. We are the only ones wearing our weight… we know when we’re in control and losing… and we know when we’ve lost control and are gaining. We know when single digit gaining turns into double digit gaining.

And once I start to gain… time and time again, that becomes the point when I throw in the towel and give up. I fight it tooth and nail, but never hard enough… never long enough… and I quit.
My entire life since the age of thirteen every single morsel of food that I have put in my mouth has been a battle between want and willpower. My willpower is seasonal at best. It longs to be permanent, but my willpower is weak… so very weak… it hangs on and throws a few good punches, and then it will simply tuck tail, turn around, and briskly walk away, slipping quietly back into the black shadows of the night. It will retreat back to where it’s most comfortable, most hidden. I will call for it, looking, seeking, searching, wishing, watching, begging, pleading with it to return… but it will remain hidden, retreated, unreachable for the next few years.

And then it will all cycle again. Time after time after time this has proven the cycle of my life and my weight. All my life my weight and self image has been foremost in my thoughts, eating and willpower forever a vivid and raging battle within. I’ve allowed it to define me, and I can't tell you how many times I’ve allowed it to control me, allowed it to rule me.

It’s been nearly twelve months since the start of my last “shift in seasons” with my weight. It’s been about six months, maybe a little less, that I have been at this current weight. I have battled, I have diligently worked really hard to get to where I am at, and to continue on, to maintain where I am currently at.

Where I am currently at, is where I would love to be forever.  Well, where I was currently at last week anyway… a week and a half ago to be exact.

I honestly thought that my mindset was that of celebration, of praise, of gratitude of returned health. Perhaps it was still merely a mindset of self-serving perfectionism, which makes me sad. Maybe I haven’t won anything, maybe I haven’t learned or overcome anything.

Maybe I’m still the same forever messed up rollercoaster dieter that I have always been, and always will be.

Yea… that thing has happened again… that mind shift, that waking up no longer wanting to play the game, no longer wanting to battle the demons, war the willpower, combat the cookies, fight my body to go beyond what it did the day before. I’m again at the precipice of wanting to jump ship and quit entirely. Walk away completely. Be done entirely.

It's. just. so. damn. hard.
I’m in the early stages of again battling and pleading with my willpower to please just stay just a little longer. I’ve worked so hard, I’ve come so far… and here I am yet again… ready to lose it all… lose it all by gaining it all back that is.

And yes, I absolutely know and realize that my life and my worth is not defined by the number on the scale and the size printed on the inside of my pants and the amount of cellulite delicately deposited on my thighs, buttocks, and upper legs. I absolutely know and am aware that I am first and foremost a child of God, a daughter of the King, and that He doesn’t see me for my weaknesses, my failures, my negative traits… He sees me with compassion and love and grace and forgiveness. Please do not leave a mile long myriad of comments trying to explain this to me, I am more than well aware. Thank you, but no.

I am merely trying to be vulnerable, real, openly weak.  I don't want lectures, I don't want criticism, I don't want pity.  I just want to simply be honest.
I am merely wanting to openly admit that I am at the dreaded turning point yet again… I’ve been here so often in the past… I knew it was inevitably coming. I knew it would rear it’s ugly head yet again… I wasn’t sure when, but I knew it would. And sure as shit… as I near that marked one year mile marker… I feel it’s full force starting to bare down on me.

My mind is screaming, my body is rebelling, my willpower if fading. I’ve gained six pounds in the last six days. I skipped my first weigh-in on Friday, because I knew… I knew that six is now probably closer to ten. I know my pants are getting tight… I know my food and exercise choices are already falling apart.

And I know more than anything that I do not want to be standing here at this spot in the road in my life yet again. I do not want to be here, I do not want to do this, I do not want to repeat all the past failures yet again.

No, I haven’t gained it all back yet. But I have gained some… it’s started, and I’m already giving up. I’m feeling defeated before I actually am, and I’m listening to the lies and playing into the hands of great temptation and defeat before I should be.

Repeat offender… repeat patterns… repeat cycles… I’m sure I’m a classic case in any shrinks office. I’m sure I’m not alone in my feelings and inner battles, but somehow that doesn’t give me much hope… much comfort… much grace to offer myself.

I do not want to be here. I repeat… I do not want to be here again.

I do not want to quit. I do not want to fail. I do not want to gain. I do not want to lose the battle. I do not want to feel the control yet again slip between my fingers. I do not want to be weak. I do not want to continue repeating the endless rollercoaster cycle of weight loss and weight gain.

I want my body to continue to know it’s agility and shine in it’s new found strength. I want my mind to continue to win the battle over will vs want. I want my determination to remain unwavering.

I want my jeans to continue to fit. As selfish and utterly stupid as that sounds… I simply want to stay exactly where I am today… I mean where I was a week and a half ago.

I want to wake up tomorrow and grab back ahold of everything that is slipping away today. I want to wake up tomorrow with renewed vision and hope. I want to stop and turn back around before it’s too late. Because it’s not too late yet today… but tomorrow might be a different story.

Granted, I also know it’s never too late to change, never too late to jump back in the game… Lord knows I’ve jumped in and out of the game so many times… I would just really love to somehow figure out how to simply stay in the game just a little longer. Actually - I want to stay in the game more than “just a little longer” - I’m wanting to stay in the game forever this time. Really, truly, honestly… I want to finally figure out how to give up the control to actually stay in control (if that actually makes any sense at all.)

How does one get up tomorrow and actually choose a new path, a different path than the one long engrained and embedded deep to their very core? How do I choose to win this time? How do I choose to stay in the game, turn back around, regain the home court advantage, and get my groove back?

Tonight I must pray for strength, for clarity, for renewed determination. Tonight I must again lay it at the foot of the cross, across the feet of Jesus and merely trust His plans for my journey. Tonight I must again ask to be carried… I can’t do it any longer… I just can’t…

Oh carry me Lord… Carry me to… and through… tomorrow. One day at a time. One mile at a time. One step at a time. We’ve come too far together this time Lord… don’t let me go… don’t let me slip back away… don’t let me go, even when I tell you I want to.

{ Next blog post "My Blue Ink Inspiration" HERE }

{ Previous blog post "Back Where It All Began" HERE }

Back Where It All Began

Today I had to face one of my great fears.

Today I had to check myself in, sit silently in that back little waiting room, and enter those doors of the ultrasound room. I had to walk in, lay down, and live through a whole host of enormous and overpowering emotions.

Today I had to come face to face again with that moment when my life was changed in an instant… forever.

The last time I had been in that room, was actually for the same reason I was there again today. Irregular bleeding, inconsistent cycles. Only the last time I was there, I was in for one of the largest shocking surprises of my life. I walked in fearing results that would possibly lead to the words and conversations of hysterectomy… and would find out I was actually twelve weeks pregnant. At the age of forty. After sixteen years of infertility.

Yes, I had been three months pregnant and had no idea.

That blessed little heartbeat I heard and saw for the first time that day was our dear little Faith MaryJo. We would lose her to the Trisomy 18 disease a few months later. A miracle baby we never expected and then never got to take home. The life that we lost, which ended up saving my own in a roundabout way. We lost a lot when we lost our dear daughter, but I can honestly say now, that I have also gained more than I ever imagined in my life in regards to her.
Read more of our Journey to Faith story HERE.

Well… fast forward two and a half years, and surprise surprise, I am still dealing with bleeding issues. Sorry, this is TMI I totally realize… But I’m fairly certain I am not the only one dealing with this… I think a vast percentage of the population has dealt with, or is dealing with something that isn’t quite right for far too long of a period of time… a waiting… a wishing… a longing… an illness… an unknown on one’s life’s timeline…

For years I have felt a connection with the bleeding woman in the Bible. Although I would say I carried a little bit more bitterness than excitement or hope over it. Oh I understood the bleeding, and the unclean, and the waiting, and the year after year after year part… and I totally believed Jesus DID heal her, and I totally believed Jesus COULD heal me as well… but I also know that Jesus choose NOT to heal me in the physical way in which I had hoped and pleaded with Him for.

I knew what His answer was, but I always struggled trying to understand why. Why not heal me if He could? Why not simply reach down and touch me and instantly heal me or take away Faith's disease as well? I never had a doubt that he COULDN’T do it… I just knew He never was going to actually do it. I believe in miracles, I just knew He wasn’t going to grant me the opportunity to be a witness of them.

So I’ve bled, and I’ve waited, and I’ve questioned, and I’ve struggled, and I’ve lost babies, and I’ve cycled through many many emotions towards the great and all-powerful God for years and years and years. But His answer has always been the same - No. And after forty-two years, I was finally starting to come to grips with this reality.

My recent doctor appointment didn’t go quite as I had hoped, and I found my body shaking, my heart pumping loudly in my ears, my eyes leaking hot emotional tears as I heard her say the words “Let’s schedule an ultrasound and just see if we can find out what’s going on in there…” Nearly the same exact words a different doctor had said to me on that fateful day in February 2015. The day my world crashed around me and changed forever in the blink of an eye.

Oh dear Lord, I was going to have to go back into that room. I was going to have to lay back down on that bed. I was going to have to look back over to that screen again. My mind was wild with pulsing emotions.

As I sat in the waiting room, I had closed my eyes and said the simple words again “Lord, I need you to carry me… I cannot do it today… I cannot face this with the strength and courage needed today… I simply need to be carried today…” Moments later I was led to the room by the same tech who had walked me back at my last appointment. I stood in the room, and I found myself again in tears, my heart beating loudly, my hands shaking, my very soul heaving within me… and it all came rushing back.

So vivid, so close to home, so fresh, so raw, so big and overwhelming.

I was honest in my apparent emotions and apologized… I wasn’t sure if she was going to remember me or not, but I was instantly met with amazing love and full understanding from the tech. She gave me the time I needed, she gave me the space to feel what I needed, and she remembered, honored, and then talked with me about a broad range of subjects centering around myself and my family, making me feel seen, understood, special… and I was beyond grateful.

There was no big baby surprise today. And to be honest, I was greatly relieved when her very first words were “No baby in there this time…” I had no idea what I was going to do if there had been… and when I had mentioned my anxiety to a dear friend, I also said that I was pretty sure I couldn’t live through that all again… and I have to laugh because she had replied quite frankly, that she was pretty sure she couldn’t live through walking with me through that again either. :-) Oh she had loved me so well during that long and difficult time. I can only imagine how difficult I was to love during that time. She loved me when I was most unloveable. Many people loved me when I was most unloveable, and I am beyond grateful.

I’m not quite sure what the next steps in this particular journey will be. I’m honestly not overly worried, and I will need to wait for a week before I will hear anything back from the results. I will simply have to wait and see, and trust that whatever may or may not need to happen next, are simply God’s continued steps for me in my grand journey through this one life I have been given.

Whether I’ll hear “all is fine” or I’ll hear “possible cancer” or "endometriosis" or any variable in-between, I will either rejoice with singing and dancing, or I will hang on tight for the next rollercoaster adventure to begin.

It’s all about faith, it’s all about the journey… it’s all about my continued Journey to Faith.

{ Next blog post "I've Been At This A Year" HERE }

{Previous blog post "Heaviness" HERE }

Heaviness

Somehow I have allowed the heaviness inside me, and the heaviness of the world around me right now, to seep in and cause a sharpening of my senses, giving a razors edge to my words and my reactions.

This is not the me I want to be right now. This is not the me anyone wants me to be right now. If you don’t believe me, I dare you to ask anyone I live with, and anyone I work with right now, and I’m pretty sure there will be a unanimous vote to veto me off the island right now.

I’m quite certain I need to start following myself around again with a broom and dustpan to attempt to sweep up the path of my own destruction.  I'm moody.  I'm grumpy.  I'm irritable.  What a sad and disappointing place to return to.

How does this happen? Where did the fullness and joy that once filled me not long ago all go? Who snuck in and sucked it all out of me, who pulled the rug out from under me, who replaced all my newly acquired sparkles with old rusty razor blades?

I lay in my bed, in the semi quiet of the house, breathing in and out… in and out… Tears stinging in the corners of my eyes as I reflect on the day. Another day of needing to somehow try right all my wrongs tomorrow… unless tomorrow goes off even worse than today, which will then only compound the already growing mire of bitterness and upset.

Why do we cling to so many little things, why do we care so incredibly much about such incredibly insignificant things? Things, laced with bold emotions, leading to unpleasantness. Why do I let it bother me, why do I allow it to sway my thoughts and feelings, why do I get worked up over the smallest of things in the grand scheme of life?

Speaking of small things in the grand scheme of life… I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself, all “woe is me” in the wake of my own personal emotional instability and lashing out today to those near and dear to me. My heart aches at my lack, at my poor choice of words and emotions, my mind weary of the continual battle of good vs evil. But beyond this tiny little town, with my tiny little pity-me self, there is a world that is lost and hurting. There are millions of people being affected by a hurricane. Many losing their homes, their pets, every material item they owned. There are people being openly persecuted for the color of their skin. There are historical books filled with heavy stories of what people have survived, what people have chosen to overcome. Great big events, great big tragedies, great big occurrences far greater than my little irritability with myself and those within my bubble.

Perhaps its time to retreat, time to pull myself back inward for a while. Stop sharing, stop caring, stop feeling with an intensity that causes pain and frustration, both to myself and to others around me. Perhaps it’s time to retreat to prayer and journaling, laying it at the foot of the cross, covering the feet of Jesus, handing it all over to Him.

Perhaps it’s time to simply ask Him to pick me up and carry me… just carry me… I just can’t do it, I just don't know how far I can make it right now...  Carry me to tomorrow and create in me a clean heart... renew in me a right spirit...

{ Next blog post "Back Where It All Began" HERE }

{ Previous blog post "August Due Date" HERE }