Getting in Shape

I was so excited to finally be able to work out in a real gym. I imagined a new svelte me in cute little work-out clothes looking like a million bucks. Okay, I would have been happy just looking better, feeling better, wearing smaller clothes.

I began this adventure nearly 18 months ago. I can honestly say I do enjoy working out. I have gained muscle. I am more flexible. I am stronger. I feel better. Have I lost any weight? Absolutely not. If anything I have gained. So I go to the gym, work up a sweat, and still have not found that svelte person living inside of me. What gives?

When I started, I knew there was more for me to gain than physical muscle. I asked the Lord to teach me spiritual truths. Honestly, though, I have focused mainly on the physical aspect of it.

So why am I not losing weight after working out so much? If more muscle is being produced and I am expending more energy, I should lose, shouldn't I? I figured there must be something more I need to learn. I knew it was more about a spiritual lesson than a physical. But hey, if I learn it, it should help in the natural realm too. I think I'm ready.

The simple truth is, it is not enough (at least not for me) to just work out. I can't just add strenuous exercise, contrary to the opinion of some, and expect to lose weight. Maybe I'm too old, maybe I'm eating more. (Doubt that.) In any case, it doesn't matter. What matters is I have to change my eating habits. I'm not sure yet, but I believe I can do this one of many ways. (I'll let you know if I'm wrong on this one once I figure it out.) I can cut back on my portion sizes, cut back on carbs, cut fat,cut out desserts...basically, something needs to be carved out of what is now considered my regular dietary intake. The result will be, a thinner me. A fitter me will emerge.

So what is the lesson to be learned? I've been at this Christian walk a long time. When I began this walk 22+ years ago, my life was a mess. I was totally out-of-shape spiritually. As I began to exercise my faith, I began to grow. The more I prayed and spent time with God, the more I wanted to pray. I couldn't get enough time alone with Him. I would read my bible every chance I could. I attended church every time the doors were open and shared my faith with anyone who would listen. Along with spiritual exercise, I found that I carried a lot of extra baggage in my life that needed to be gotten rid of. Little-by-little, the Lord began to reveal things that I needed to eliminate. Sometimes they were annoying habits. Others were old coping skills that I no longer needed if I was really going to depend on God. I remember having a hard time saying no to salespeople. I'd end up buying something I didn't need. Afterwards I'd be very angry at myself. After one particularly frustrating purchase, I finally asked the Lord why I gave in to this temptation so often.

He showed me that my real desire was to feel worthy. If someone spent the time to talk to me, show me a product, make the effort to "sell" me, then I owed it to him to buy. I felt the time of others was more valuable than mine so if they spent their time on me, the least I could do was pay them for it. I know this must sound insane, but I truly had so little self-worth, that is what I believed. And what an amazing God to reveal this and then begin to speak to me about how much He values me. He walked me through the steps of not giving in to pressure by giving me worth. In doing so, I was able to throw off another weight that I was carrying around.

The more weights I threw off, the freer I became. Talk about spiritual fitness! I was doing spiritual sprints, spiritual marathons. You name it, I was more than ready to do the work-outs in order to train for these marathons. I was more than ready to give up excess baggage to run this race faster.

So how does this all fit in now? Sometimes the truth hurts. I needed an honest evalution of my spiritual life. I have found, no matter how long you've been in this Christian walk, there will always be more training needed. There are new areas to exercise our faith. And as much as we've already cut out of our lives or changed, there will always be weights we either haven't seen before or new ones we've picked up along the way or even old ones we've gone back to that need to be discarded. We can never think we've arrived, or that all we need to do is exercise our faith and that is enough.

I have to start changing my eating habits. As I do, I need to be open to other changes in my life that I have neglected to see. Those things the Lord knows are weights even if I think they are benefits. Dessert might be a dainty morsel but bring about extraordinary weight. I have to ask myself is it worth it? It is time to lose, in order to gain.

"Therefore this joy of mine is fulfilled. He must increase, but I must decrease." John 3:30

Happy Birthday Ethan

Ethan's great-grandparents came for his 3rd birthday. It was so nice to have them here to celebrate with us. This is their first great-grandchild.





But this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. This wasn't how we planned to celebrate his 3rd birthday.

When my daughter was pregnant, Michael and I told her that on Ethan's 3rd birthday, we would take him to Disneyland. Of course that meant we'd take the whole family. We knew at the time it would be an expensive trip, but this was our first grandbaby. With 5 kids, we'd never been able to be so extravagant. So why not with our grandson? Afterall, we would be taking our 5 kids too and it would be a grand time for all.

We had no way of knowing that just months after Ethan's birth Michael would no longer have a job. But honestly, that wouldn't have stopped this. Michael has always been very good with our finances and provided well, and he would make it happen.

We knew things like finances could be a problem, but we never anticipated Ethan might not be ready for Disneyland. How could we know that? Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that at 3 he would not be speaking any words. I never thought he would have seizures and be on medications. Nor could any of us have known that this sweet, beautiful boy would have the struggles he has.

Just to see his smile, you'd never know anything was wrong. All you'd see is his curly hair, inquisitive blue eyes, and a big grin. But when you spoke to him and he didn't respond, you might begin to wonder. His jerky hand movement as he waved, or his awkward gait might tell you something was not quite right. If you asked him if he wanted to go to Disneyland, he probably wouldn't even look up at you. Ethan is not ready for Disneyland.

Will he be ready next year? Will he be able to say "mama?" Will he understand what a plane ride is? Will his face light up when we tell him he is going to meet Mickey Mouse? We don't know. It's hard to know what next year holds. It's difficult to imagine him talking and laughing while waiting in line for the next ride. It's not easy to dream about what the future holds.

We have learned new things about life from Ethan. And we have learned to celebrate the little things. This wasn't the plan for Ethan's 3rd birthday. But we had a glorious time anyway.

Happy 3rd Birthday Ethan!

Happy Birthday

On July 11th, at 12:30a.m. I called Chris. Afterall, it was his 21st birthday. He answered the phone and I wished him a happy birthday. His response was, "Ma, it isn't my birthday yet." I corrected him that although he may be residing in Arizona he was born in Colorado. Therefore, he truly was 21. He couldn't argue with that logic.

This was his very first birthday away from home. I missed him greatly. I missed baking him his favorite cake. (I even had to ask what his favorite cake was this year. Does that mean I am losing touch with him???)

I asked him what he was going to do to celebrate. He acted as if I must be nuts. I was supposed to know that at the stroke of midnight, or a minute thereafter, anyone who just turned 21 absolutely had to go out to a nightclub somewhere to have his first drink. Of course your college buddies who were already 21 were going with you and would proceed to try to get you to drink as much as possible. And I am supposed to wish him well, have a good time??? I did ask him to be wise and be safe, told him I loved him, and wished him a happy birthday.

When the real morning arrived, I put off calling him. I figured he'd be sleeping in for awhile. I was surprised when he phoned around 10a.m. He regaled me with tales of his first night of being 21. He told me of a couple of shots he was "forced" to drink. The only one I remember was something like FIRE, I think he said Tequila and Tabasco sauce. Who thinks up these things??? Is this really supposed to be fun? But, at the same time, I was thankful that he called me. How many 21 year olds will call their mom and share with them what they really did for their birthday?

Somehow, hearing of his celebration, didn't help me feel better about missing out on his 21st birthday. No balloons, no cake, no covering his door with wrapping paper....sigh. I was told "No 21 year old wants to celebrate his birthday with his family," but I think that person doesn't know my son. Happy Birthday Chris!

Strangers In The Night

Ahhh...quiet has arrived temporarily. I have a moment to compose my thoughts. Alas, my brain seems to have fallen victim to stage fright. Those thoughts that have swirled in my head no longer want to be released from their hidden place to become a piece of cyberland.

Well, guess I will have to resort to the telling of a story that happened recently.

There have been some recent burglaries in our area. The first we heard about it was from an officer knocking on our door at 12:30a.m. Of course the kids and I were still up, but hubby was asleep.) The sheriff officer wanted us to shut our garage door. He told us of the burglaries and said most of the burglaries had occurred at homes where the garage was open. He happened to be driving through the neighborhood, so stopped to tell us. (Hey, maybe I can get hubby to get that garage door opener fixed now!)

The next day a frightening thought came. Just the night before, the girl next door was over. When it was time to go, my daughter Sb walked her home. They were only out the door briefly when they came running back into the house. They thought someone was outside and started to run after them. They were afraid to go back outside. We had written it off that they both were a little afraid of the dark. But now we were wondering, could someone have been out there?

Last week, Chris, my son came home from college for a week. His girlfriend had just returned from a semester abroad. He was sitting on my front porch at 3:30a.m. talking on the phone to her. While sitting there, he noticed a guy walking down the street. The guy starts walking through our yard between our house and the neighbors. So my son yells out, "hey! What are you doing?" The guy takes off running, with Chris running after him. Chris was wearing flip flops, so had a hard time keeping up. The guy cut through a neighbors yard 3 houses down.

Chris called the police and they came out. They talked to him and also to the neighbors whose yard the guy disappeared in. (And can you believe, hubby and I slept through the whole thing? We didn't hear about it until the next day.

So now we aren't sure if it was the burglar scoping out the neighborhood, or if "stalker boy" is back and was headed towards the back of our house where El's bedroom is. (For those who don't know, that is a another story. I'll pull it up some other time when my brain decides to be shy.)

Either way, I am thankful that Chris was sitting outside on his cell phone at 3:30a.m. Next time I start to complain about my kids staying up so late at night, I will think twice. Who knows, maybe there is a real good reason they are up.

Need Help

This morning after church I walked into the women's restroom. In front of me, a gentleman was pushing his wife's wheelchair into the restroom. I wondered to myself if he was going to go all the way in with her. But he stopped just inside the door.

I could tell she was struggling to move the chair herself, so I asked if she needed any assistance. She gladly accepted my offer. I pushed the chair to the back of a long line of waiting ladies. It was then that I began to question proper etiquette. Normally, when one stands in this line you wait for a stall door to open. Once open, you take your turn in whatever stall opens up. But wait, when this lady gets to the front of the line, it won't matter which stall door opens, she will only be able to use one. Does this restroom even have a wheelchair accessible stall? I felt so terribly inept at helping this lady. I mumbled something about where the stall was and peaked around the corner to see if there was one and if it was available. Yes, the first stall was wheelchair accessible, but it was already occupied by someone in a wheelchair. In a moment, we were in the front of the line. As stall doors began to open, I spoke to those waiting behind us to go ahead. And we waited. Were we blocking access to people leaving by where we were parked? Should I stand in front so we could carry on a conversation? Was she going to need help once inside the stall? I hated the panicked feeling of not having a better understanding of how to help someone in a wheel chair.

The stall door swung open and two ladies came out; one pushing the other in a wheelchair. She must have needed help once in there. They manuevered around us, or at least tried to. At one point the other pusher told me I needed to go ahead and push the chair forward so they could get around us. I opened the stall door and tried to push the chair forward, but the door did not want to stay open. I nearly caught her foot on the door. How do you do this? I couldn't reach the door to hold it while I pushed, should I try to back in? But if I back in, I will be trapped in the corner by the chair, then what? I did the best I could, fumbling about and go her beside the commode. I asked her where the easiest place to be was, and she said facing the other direction.

Thankfully, the stall was just big enough for me to turn her around so she was more beside the commode, then I squeezed myself past her and asked if she needed further assistance. She said she just needed to put the locks on the chair so it wouldn't move while she was getting in and out. I told her I would use the restroom myself and come back to help her. As I am closing the stall door, I wondered if I could latch it from the outside. No such luck. So I closed it the best I could. While in another stall, I hear someone open her door, apologies and such and I sat there feeling so terribly inadequate to help. Should I have locked the wheels for her or would it have just taken longer since I had no clue how to do it? She looked so frail, how was she going to manage all in there?

As I was washing my hands, I looked around for a lower sink that she would be able to reach from her chair. There wasn't one. Would she be able to reach the sink? I searched in my person and found I had a small bottle of waterless hand sanitizer. Good! I could always offer her that if she couldn't reach the sink. When I was finished I walked to the door of her stall. I told her I was there if she needed anything.

While I was waiting, a friend that I hadn't seen in awhile came in. We exchanged greetings and into a stall she went. I was hoping that this lady finished soon, as I was afraid it would be awkward if my friend came out and began chatting to me. What if I didn't hear the lady say she was finished and needed help? This friend tends to be long-winded and normally it would not be a big deal, but all of the sudden it was. As much as I didn't mind catching up on things, at the moment I didn't care. My friend did come out and began chatting. I thought I heard the soft voice of the lady in the stall but wasn't sure, and my friend kept talking. I glanced over at the stall twice to see if I could make out if she was moving about. I did hear her. I interrupted my friend and turned to the stall door. Yes, she answered, she could use some help. She was having a hard time getting back into the chair. It seemed like the brake was not on all the way and she could not slide back into it.

Once again, I painfully fumbled about trying to assist her back into her chair. Should I hold the chair steady, should I help her hold her weight with one arm, both? Somehow, without much help from me, she did manage to get back into her chair. She could not get the foot pegs in place and there just wasn't much room in the stall, so I told her I'd get her out and we'd manage it once outside the stall. Once again, I pushed her through the door fee first, instead of backing up. I pushed the door open and tried to get her through it before it closed on her. Ugh! This was awful. The door nearly hit her as I pushed it out of the way again. We got around the corner and I pushed her to one side of the room. Then I attempted to lock her foot pegs back in place. I got one, then lifted her foot and put it in what I thought was the right place. I swung the other one forward until I heard a click, then lifted that leg and placed her foot on the platform. I then pushed her chair out the door to where her husband was patiently waiting. He thanked me for helping and took over pushing her chair. Then I realized I didn't even let her wash her hands or even offer the hand cleaner.

The whole experience haunted me during the drive home. I didn't even ask her name. I didn't greet her, ask how she was doing. Nothing. Why didn't I at least engage her in a conversation? When I felt so inadequate, why didn't I tell her I wasn't sure how to do this, could she direct me to what would work best.

Tonight the whole scenario is still with me. I want to be able to help, but I am going to have to get a whole lot more comfortable. Just like when I was in the Dermatologist's office last week. A woman came in who was deaf. She did have someone there to interpret, but I still wanted to be of some assistance. I have been learning sign language with my 2 year old grandson. Somehow asking her if she wanted juice, milk, cracker, cookie, etc. did not seem adequate. Did I know how to say hello, my name is...and ask her how she was. Well, yes, but I have not had a lot of practice with reading sign language. What if she signed something back that I didn't understand and then I did not have a way to communicate that I didn't understand.

The Lord is teaching me much and this is just the beginning I'm sure. I have much to ponder, but in some way, can't help but think this incident will help with my grandson. As he gets older, others may be uncomfortable with him. There is already awkward silence when sometime tried to engage him in a conversation. I don't feel the need to go into an explanation of why he doesn't talk or why he seems different, but I usually try to offer, "he doesn't talk." But that is probably not sufficient, as it might leave others with the impression that he also doesn't understand. But truthfully, does he understand? We don't have the answers either, so the Lord will have to keep training me. I'm sure I will have many more experiences to learn from, no matter how humbling they may be.

Death

When the shadow of death
creeps in unnanounced
w/nary a whisper or hint

It shatters and breaks
the lives that are left
trying to stand, but just barely

If we'd only known
what lay ahead
we could have done things different

But could we really?
would the outcome change?
Or still hanging, stripped to the core?

Death shouldn't be allowed
to take the innocence
nor have a child of any age

Death should be reserved
for the old and aged
ones who've lived a rich full life

What is today
what is tomorrow
in this game that we call life?

Nobody knows
what the next day holds
or for that matter this very day

We can only count
for the moment we hold
and spend it on something worthwhile

The moment for now
is spent on grief
for a life has been lost to death

A very precious life
should be here still
But with it have gone our hearts

Where my heart was
now is emptiness
nothing can fill that space inside