Heather Nestleroad's Blog, page 6
November 16, 2014
Dreams... Are you ready?
Do you remember your dreams? I tend to not remember mine. If I wake up remembering a dream by the time I walk into the restroom I've forgotten it already. Usually I don't think I do dream. My oldest daughter dreams about every night. She remembers them, usually in detail. I have a friend who can do that as well.
The entire idea for the Twilight series came from a dream that Stephenie Meyer had. Yes, I read the Twilight series. Yes, at one time I loved every single one of them. Now, I'm over it. I got caught up in the hoopla of it all. As someone who writes, I am envious of the gift of being able to remember your dreams.
This morning however, was different. I was mid-dream when I awoke. In my dream I was sitting in a chair among hundreds of people. There was a stage and the stage was surrounded by chairs filled with people. I stood up with my papers in my hand and headed to the stage. I walked up on stage and knelt down next to the lady who had asked me to come and speak and whispered, "umm...this looks like a lot more than twenty five women." She replied, "Yes, I know honey but they are here, are you ready?" I told her I may throw up and I should pee first. I looked up at the crowd and when I went to stand up I woke up.
On Tuesday I will be speaking to a group called the Department Club. I have known this was coming since July. In July, I grumbled and fussed and told God I was certain that He needed someone else. In the end, I agreed to do it. The funny thing about this is that I haven't really been all that worried about it. I think that is what scares me. I have a genuine fear of public speaking but what if that goes away? What would I hide behind then?
This woman in my dream who I haven't even met in person, only talked to on the telephone in my real life asked the most poignant question of me ever. Are you ready? Am I? I have no idea. How does one know if they are ready? How does one know if they can really do something for God and do it well? I suppose that is where trust comes in. How much do you trust God? The One who created the heavens and the earth and even me, how much do I or can I trust Him? Are you ready?
I live in the land of What Ifs. I have spoken in public a total of three times now and I never eat before hand because I am afraid of losing control of bodily functions. Would that happen? I suppose it could. It is unlikely but what if? What if I forget what I'm saying in the middle? What if I'm not interesting? What if I'm not funny? What if no one shows up? What if too many show up? Scarier what if I really bomb and I let down not only the people who have come to hear what I have to say but I also let God down int he process? Scarier yet what if I'm actually good at it and I have to do it again?
Am I ready? I don't know. Am I? I have been thinking about speaking to these women since July. I know what I want to talk about. All day I have thought about that dream. What happens next? It's like a cliff hanger only instead of a television show it is my life. Did I go pee then come back and do well? Did I go pee then throw up on stage or in the restroom? What happened or happens next? My greatest downfall is wanting to know the outcome instead of just trusting God to lead me where he wants me. I have to always question it. Always analyze it. Always argue about it. My best friend once asked me what would happen if I didn't throw a fit and just did what I was told. I told her it was my process. God knows it's coming, if I don't throw my fit he will think he got the wrong girl. The ridiculous thing about that is that that is usually my argument. He has the wrong girl.
My favorite verse is Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Do you see the irony? My favorite verse goes completely against my control issues. I always want to know the outcome and yet...maybe I don't need to. Maybe I need to accept that God knows the outcome and quit trying to take control. He has control. I don't have to. I'm a slow learner but I think I'm starting to get it. I don't get commissioned to go alone. I am only being asked to go and allow Him to do His thing through me. I have to learn to stop taking God out of it and start taking me out of it. It's not about me.
I was raised an only child. I have only child tendencies but what a relief it is to know that in this instance, it isn't about me. It is about doing what God asks me to do. I don't need to panic, I need to get with the program. So...am I ready? I'm shaking in my boots, but my boots are made for walkin'.
The entire idea for the Twilight series came from a dream that Stephenie Meyer had. Yes, I read the Twilight series. Yes, at one time I loved every single one of them. Now, I'm over it. I got caught up in the hoopla of it all. As someone who writes, I am envious of the gift of being able to remember your dreams.
This morning however, was different. I was mid-dream when I awoke. In my dream I was sitting in a chair among hundreds of people. There was a stage and the stage was surrounded by chairs filled with people. I stood up with my papers in my hand and headed to the stage. I walked up on stage and knelt down next to the lady who had asked me to come and speak and whispered, "umm...this looks like a lot more than twenty five women." She replied, "Yes, I know honey but they are here, are you ready?" I told her I may throw up and I should pee first. I looked up at the crowd and when I went to stand up I woke up.
On Tuesday I will be speaking to a group called the Department Club. I have known this was coming since July. In July, I grumbled and fussed and told God I was certain that He needed someone else. In the end, I agreed to do it. The funny thing about this is that I haven't really been all that worried about it. I think that is what scares me. I have a genuine fear of public speaking but what if that goes away? What would I hide behind then?
This woman in my dream who I haven't even met in person, only talked to on the telephone in my real life asked the most poignant question of me ever. Are you ready? Am I? I have no idea. How does one know if they are ready? How does one know if they can really do something for God and do it well? I suppose that is where trust comes in. How much do you trust God? The One who created the heavens and the earth and even me, how much do I or can I trust Him? Are you ready?
I live in the land of What Ifs. I have spoken in public a total of three times now and I never eat before hand because I am afraid of losing control of bodily functions. Would that happen? I suppose it could. It is unlikely but what if? What if I forget what I'm saying in the middle? What if I'm not interesting? What if I'm not funny? What if no one shows up? What if too many show up? Scarier what if I really bomb and I let down not only the people who have come to hear what I have to say but I also let God down int he process? Scarier yet what if I'm actually good at it and I have to do it again?
Am I ready? I don't know. Am I? I have been thinking about speaking to these women since July. I know what I want to talk about. All day I have thought about that dream. What happens next? It's like a cliff hanger only instead of a television show it is my life. Did I go pee then come back and do well? Did I go pee then throw up on stage or in the restroom? What happened or happens next? My greatest downfall is wanting to know the outcome instead of just trusting God to lead me where he wants me. I have to always question it. Always analyze it. Always argue about it. My best friend once asked me what would happen if I didn't throw a fit and just did what I was told. I told her it was my process. God knows it's coming, if I don't throw my fit he will think he got the wrong girl. The ridiculous thing about that is that that is usually my argument. He has the wrong girl.
My favorite verse is Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Do you see the irony? My favorite verse goes completely against my control issues. I always want to know the outcome and yet...maybe I don't need to. Maybe I need to accept that God knows the outcome and quit trying to take control. He has control. I don't have to. I'm a slow learner but I think I'm starting to get it. I don't get commissioned to go alone. I am only being asked to go and allow Him to do His thing through me. I have to learn to stop taking God out of it and start taking me out of it. It's not about me.
I was raised an only child. I have only child tendencies but what a relief it is to know that in this instance, it isn't about me. It is about doing what God asks me to do. I don't need to panic, I need to get with the program. So...am I ready? I'm shaking in my boots, but my boots are made for walkin'.
November 10, 2014
The Paper Gown Patient...err Princess?
I have a not so secret secret. I don't like to go to the doctor. I am horrible about preventative medicine. I don't go to get my yearly exam except every three to five years and up until this year I had never had a mammogram. I do go to the eye doctor every year because sight is very important to me. I have to be able to read, also glasses are cool. I go to the dentist every six months because I like to chew my food. Food does not always agree with me but I do enjoy eating. Eye doctors and dentists I have no problem with. I don't have to get naked to see them. OBGYN's I see no use for. I'm done having babies. Yes, I get that it would be responsible of me to make sure I don't have cancer, but nothing else gets checked every year for cancer. My husband doesn't go see a doctor every year and get naked to check for cancer.
Some years ago my doctor actually moved her practice an hour away. I have seen her once in her new office. The discussion with my husband recently when like this: Vaughn: You need to go to the lady doctor. Me: Why? I feel fine and I can't get pregnant. Vaughn: Just to make sure everything is ok. I don't want to have to explain to our kids if something happens to you, that I couldn't get you to go to the doctor. Me: First of all, I am pretty sure I was just there a couple years ago. I remember going to the Italian place for lunch and shopping after. Second of all, I am also sure our children are well aware that no one can talk me into doing anything I don't want to do. Vaughn: Please just call and see if you can get an appointment. Me: Fine.
So I called my old doctor and she was out until February. I took that as a sign that I didn't need to go, because obviously I'm not going to go in February. It's deep freeze winter in February. This didn't fly with my beloved husband so I called and got a new doctor.
Now here's the thing with new doctors who happen to be in the OBGYN field. You meet them naked. I don't know about you, but I don't normally meet people naked. I prefer to see a woman doctor because other than what they studied in school, a man isn't going to get women's issues. I found a doctor closer to home that met my criteria and made an appointment. I found the office and checked in. (Side note: My husband told me before I left for the appointment to remember that I laugh at myself when I get nervous. I have no idea what he's talking about.) When the nurse took me back, she took me straight to the scales. Now... I have to take my shoes off, my coat off, take my phone out of my pocket. Essentially remove any excess just to be weighed because I need all the help I can get. So I say, "You know, I think it would make more sense to have the scales in the rooms because I can tell you for a fact, that I weigh less without clothes and obviously my clothes have to come off here."
Once in the room and after all the preliminaries I am asked if I need to use the restroom. Why yes, yes of course I do. When I return I have to put on the paper shirt and cover up with the paper blanket. So now the situation becomes horizontal or vertical with the paper blanket. As I'm sitting on the table of torture awaiting certain doom, I am thinking that when the doctor (that I am meeting naked in paper coverings) comes in she will see my backside first so..I definitely want to go horizontal with the paper blanket so I can wrap it around and sit on it, thus keeping all parts covered at first meeting.
The doctor was very nice. We talked about Women of Faith and had I not met her wearing paper, I think we could have been friends. I think that she and the nurse were disappointed that visiting them rated below going to the dentist for me, as they said usually rate just above the dentist. Chat time was great. Exam time was uncomfortable as best. After the exam with a bonus round that apparently is required after forty. No, just no. We must not speak of that ...ever. I thought I was done. No, no so much. I need a mammogram and apparently it is a bit appalling that I have never had one at this age. I was given an order and told to go where I wanted to have it done.
All I knew about mammograms at this point, was that 1. I didn't want one, 2. They are apparently uncomfortable and painful. I pictured metal jaws of life compressing what little bit of deflated nothingness I have left after nursing three kids. I called on a Wednesday in October. October is breast cancer awareness month. I was sure I was going to get a reprieve until at least November. They got me in two days later. It was crazy. I made it to the appointment and there were no metal jaws of life. I was given pink beads on the way out.
All in all, it was bearable. It is funny how our imaginations can make things to be worse than they actually turn out to be. I still don't think these appointments need to happen every year, but I am not found of being a paper gown patient. Or would that be a paper gown princess?
Some years ago my doctor actually moved her practice an hour away. I have seen her once in her new office. The discussion with my husband recently when like this: Vaughn: You need to go to the lady doctor. Me: Why? I feel fine and I can't get pregnant. Vaughn: Just to make sure everything is ok. I don't want to have to explain to our kids if something happens to you, that I couldn't get you to go to the doctor. Me: First of all, I am pretty sure I was just there a couple years ago. I remember going to the Italian place for lunch and shopping after. Second of all, I am also sure our children are well aware that no one can talk me into doing anything I don't want to do. Vaughn: Please just call and see if you can get an appointment. Me: Fine.
So I called my old doctor and she was out until February. I took that as a sign that I didn't need to go, because obviously I'm not going to go in February. It's deep freeze winter in February. This didn't fly with my beloved husband so I called and got a new doctor.
Now here's the thing with new doctors who happen to be in the OBGYN field. You meet them naked. I don't know about you, but I don't normally meet people naked. I prefer to see a woman doctor because other than what they studied in school, a man isn't going to get women's issues. I found a doctor closer to home that met my criteria and made an appointment. I found the office and checked in. (Side note: My husband told me before I left for the appointment to remember that I laugh at myself when I get nervous. I have no idea what he's talking about.) When the nurse took me back, she took me straight to the scales. Now... I have to take my shoes off, my coat off, take my phone out of my pocket. Essentially remove any excess just to be weighed because I need all the help I can get. So I say, "You know, I think it would make more sense to have the scales in the rooms because I can tell you for a fact, that I weigh less without clothes and obviously my clothes have to come off here."
Once in the room and after all the preliminaries I am asked if I need to use the restroom. Why yes, yes of course I do. When I return I have to put on the paper shirt and cover up with the paper blanket. So now the situation becomes horizontal or vertical with the paper blanket. As I'm sitting on the table of torture awaiting certain doom, I am thinking that when the doctor (that I am meeting naked in paper coverings) comes in she will see my backside first so..I definitely want to go horizontal with the paper blanket so I can wrap it around and sit on it, thus keeping all parts covered at first meeting.
The doctor was very nice. We talked about Women of Faith and had I not met her wearing paper, I think we could have been friends. I think that she and the nurse were disappointed that visiting them rated below going to the dentist for me, as they said usually rate just above the dentist. Chat time was great. Exam time was uncomfortable as best. After the exam with a bonus round that apparently is required after forty. No, just no. We must not speak of that ...ever. I thought I was done. No, no so much. I need a mammogram and apparently it is a bit appalling that I have never had one at this age. I was given an order and told to go where I wanted to have it done.
All I knew about mammograms at this point, was that 1. I didn't want one, 2. They are apparently uncomfortable and painful. I pictured metal jaws of life compressing what little bit of deflated nothingness I have left after nursing three kids. I called on a Wednesday in October. October is breast cancer awareness month. I was sure I was going to get a reprieve until at least November. They got me in two days later. It was crazy. I made it to the appointment and there were no metal jaws of life. I was given pink beads on the way out.
All in all, it was bearable. It is funny how our imaginations can make things to be worse than they actually turn out to be. I still don't think these appointments need to happen every year, but I am not found of being a paper gown patient. Or would that be a paper gown princess?
September 17, 2014
Running Toward Elightenment
Enlightenment comes when you stop looking around for it. In my wildest dreams I never imagined that I would ever run. Of course I'm still not sure what I do could constitute running. Today during our run a neighbor came up in his car and asked me if I were trudging through Nutella. When I finished begging him for gum, because I had forgotten to grab some before heading out, I told him that was exactly what I was doing. So there is one lesson learned: Never, ever, under any circumstances run without gum. All that huffing and puffing makes for a very dry mouth which makes the run almost unbearable. He didn't have any gum but offered me water which I declined because I can't carry anything when I run. It's just too much of a hardship. I have enough trouble carrying myself.
Today we ran for thirty minutes. In. A. Row. Yes, you read that correctly. The girl who whined about running for two minutes is now running for thirty. Not well I might add, but running nonetheless. It's painful, I ache, and it doesn't help me in my quest to stay up late and read as many books as I possibly can in one year, but I am persisting in the quest. I am being enlightened in doing so.
God tends to use unlikely means to get his point across. I always said I couldn't run and I wouldn't run. So...God put it on my husband's heart to want to Run for God. I wish he had put it on my heart to want to run. He didn't. I still don't want to run. But he did put it on my heart to want to encourage my husband and to do this with him. He also took a non-runner and made her a runner, or a trudger (that may not be an actual word but it should be) at the very least.
A couple of weeks ago we were going out to run for twenty minutes. I told myself that my rate of surviving the runs was 100% so I needed to just get over it and get ready to go. Funny how just as we were getting ready to go I heard a whisper from God that said that my survival rate for public speaking was also at 100%. Some people tend to look at me funny when I tell them that. Sometimes God whispers to me but sometimes I need big neon signs.
In July I was asked to speak in November to a group of ladies in the Department Club. Now maybe that doesn't sound unusual to you. Maybe it isn't but what if I told you that just the day before in church we were talking about evangelism and everyone took a candle to light and pray about who we could ask to church. In all fairness maybe not everyone took a candle. I did take one, to this day I think it is still in my car. In my mind I thought, "Well sure I can invite someone to church. No problem!" The next day I got the phone call asking me to come speak. God not only whispers and uses flashing neon signs sometimes he just uses his sense of humor. Funny that I can't just go speak to one person I get to go speak to the masses. OK maybe not the masses. There could be only like ten of them for all I know. But you see the humor right?
I think I'm learning that maybe there are a lot of things that I have always thought I couldn't do that maybe I can do. (Excuse the obnoxiously long sentence.The get longer when I get excited.)
Saturday I went to see Beth Moore live. I cannot even begin to tell you how amazing she is. I look at her and I think, "She is who people should hear speak. Not someone like me. I couldn't possibly have anything to share that could help anyone." But what if I'm wrong? What if I'm just broken enough that God could use me to help even one? Being the runner that I am, in which I tend to run from everything. I'm usually too scared for anything out of my realm of comfort. God is trying to teach me not to run away but to run to him and let him do the work.
At the end of the even on Saturday Beth asked anyone who struggled with panic and fear to stand up so we could be prayed for. Yes I said we. That's my first reaction always. I stood and my best friend and people I've never met laid hands on me and prayed for me. I have never experienced that before. It was very emotional. I suppose I have never thought about whether or not anyone prays for me other than my children, my husband, and Christi (a.k.a. the bff. If you have read my books you've read about our antics.) After the event I asked her if she was ready to take our act on the road. She's not so sure but I think I have her convinced we should have a band. The way I see it, any mistakes I might make in speaking can be made up for by a good praise band.
All that to say this...I'm still running, I'm a runner, only from now on I'm running towards something instead of away from something. Oh and IF you are unfortunate or fortunate enough depending on your perspective to hear me speak, just keep in mind I'm a movie lover so there will be movie references and even clips shown. This broken servant needs visual aids.
Today we ran for thirty minutes. In. A. Row. Yes, you read that correctly. The girl who whined about running for two minutes is now running for thirty. Not well I might add, but running nonetheless. It's painful, I ache, and it doesn't help me in my quest to stay up late and read as many books as I possibly can in one year, but I am persisting in the quest. I am being enlightened in doing so.
God tends to use unlikely means to get his point across. I always said I couldn't run and I wouldn't run. So...God put it on my husband's heart to want to Run for God. I wish he had put it on my heart to want to run. He didn't. I still don't want to run. But he did put it on my heart to want to encourage my husband and to do this with him. He also took a non-runner and made her a runner, or a trudger (that may not be an actual word but it should be) at the very least.
A couple of weeks ago we were going out to run for twenty minutes. I told myself that my rate of surviving the runs was 100% so I needed to just get over it and get ready to go. Funny how just as we were getting ready to go I heard a whisper from God that said that my survival rate for public speaking was also at 100%. Some people tend to look at me funny when I tell them that. Sometimes God whispers to me but sometimes I need big neon signs.
In July I was asked to speak in November to a group of ladies in the Department Club. Now maybe that doesn't sound unusual to you. Maybe it isn't but what if I told you that just the day before in church we were talking about evangelism and everyone took a candle to light and pray about who we could ask to church. In all fairness maybe not everyone took a candle. I did take one, to this day I think it is still in my car. In my mind I thought, "Well sure I can invite someone to church. No problem!" The next day I got the phone call asking me to come speak. God not only whispers and uses flashing neon signs sometimes he just uses his sense of humor. Funny that I can't just go speak to one person I get to go speak to the masses. OK maybe not the masses. There could be only like ten of them for all I know. But you see the humor right?
I think I'm learning that maybe there are a lot of things that I have always thought I couldn't do that maybe I can do. (Excuse the obnoxiously long sentence.The get longer when I get excited.)
Saturday I went to see Beth Moore live. I cannot even begin to tell you how amazing she is. I look at her and I think, "She is who people should hear speak. Not someone like me. I couldn't possibly have anything to share that could help anyone." But what if I'm wrong? What if I'm just broken enough that God could use me to help even one? Being the runner that I am, in which I tend to run from everything. I'm usually too scared for anything out of my realm of comfort. God is trying to teach me not to run away but to run to him and let him do the work.
At the end of the even on Saturday Beth asked anyone who struggled with panic and fear to stand up so we could be prayed for. Yes I said we. That's my first reaction always. I stood and my best friend and people I've never met laid hands on me and prayed for me. I have never experienced that before. It was very emotional. I suppose I have never thought about whether or not anyone prays for me other than my children, my husband, and Christi (a.k.a. the bff. If you have read my books you've read about our antics.) After the event I asked her if she was ready to take our act on the road. She's not so sure but I think I have her convinced we should have a band. The way I see it, any mistakes I might make in speaking can be made up for by a good praise band.
All that to say this...I'm still running, I'm a runner, only from now on I'm running towards something instead of away from something. Oh and IF you are unfortunate or fortunate enough depending on your perspective to hear me speak, just keep in mind I'm a movie lover so there will be movie references and even clips shown. This broken servant needs visual aids.
August 24, 2014
Letting Go With A Vision (A sending the first one to college story.)
We discussed it for a year...maybe more. We planned, we saved, we "prepared," and we packed. We knew it was coming. We were excited. We ARE excited. And yet...I feel a bit like Hannah of the Bible. Walking away from my child and leaving her behind to find her God designed purpose in life. Giving her back I suppose. This child that I nursed, cuddled, taught to walk and talk, introduced to the 80's, whom I love is now a young woman.
We moved her into college this weekend and said our goodbyes today. She will not be sleeping under my roof every night. She will not be fighting with her sister at least once a week. She is embarking on her own journey that God has designed just for her and it is a strange almost surreal thing. It's a bit like leaving a part of your heart behind that you will see later.
Have I mentioned that her college is a mere twenty minutes from my house? That is by car of course, certainly if you chose to ride a horse or a bike it would take longer. I know it seems ridiculous. Perhaps it is but maybe it isn't. No matter how far away the college is, the entire family dynamic is now changed.
This child of mine will not be sleeping under the same roof as her family every night. This child of mine will not be here for breakfast and dinner. This child of mine will now learn self-discipline on an entirely different level. This child of mine belongs to God.
She will come to visit on breaks but even with her being close, it is my duty to allow her to learn to depend on God and herself. It is my duty to allow her to form a new family within the halls of her dorm. To release my hold and not only hope but expect that there are others that God has in mind to make a difference in her life; that will ultimately help to mold and shape her into the woman He has in mind for His purpose. It is my duty and it is hard.
My heart yearns for the days when she was young and she needed me. She doesn't need me as much anymore. She may want me, but she doesn't need me. She is amazing. I can say this because she is my child. If you know her, or think you know her, allow me to tell you that you don't. You don't know her. You think you do, but you don't. You only know, just as you only know of me, the side of her that she allows you to see. My daughter is smart. She is caring and sensitive. She gets her feelings hurt easily. She has a hard time trusting people. She gets along better with people older than her than with her own peer group. She is incredibly funny. If you don't know this about her, you are missing out on one of her most incredible qualities. She is also fiercely protective of her siblings and if I get sad she senses it and allows me to cry on her shoulder. She is destined for great things.
I know all of these things and through all of my excitement for all she is yet to be, all that she is about to do and see and know, I miss her. It's been an hour, it's been a minute, it's been a week, it's been a year, and I miss her. I miss her and part of me can't wait to see the other side. The side where she has learned what her life calling is, she is mature and self-assured. Where instead of not wanting to make eye contact with people for fear of whatever they may think of her, she holds her head high and makes eye contact with everyone because the only one she is concerned with pleasing is God. I look forward to that day and that is the vision I held in my mind as I walked through first one door and then another door and came home.
A quote shared with us this weekend was this: "The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision." -Helen Heller What a profound statement. Don't you think? Allow me to apply this to my current situation. I refuse to be blind to the needs of my child. While I could see her anytime I wanted, that is not what she needs. She doesn't need me to be in her way. I'm no longer first string, I'm sitting the bench. Oh sure she can still come to me if she needs something, money, advice, or just an ear. But we both have to learn that our roles are changing. We need to keep the vision of the future in front of us. We need to have a vision of the future. We need to trust God's plan.
So with a vision of her bringing friends home on break, calling me to tell me she isn't coming home because she has a better offer, walking across a stage to receive a diploma that she earned, and fulfilling her life calling, I know that not only will she do great but I can allow her to be. I can learn to sleep at night with her at college. I can learn to cook for four instead of five. I can learn to not tell her to do her homework. I can learn to not call or text her EVERY day. I can learn to open my grip so I can receive something more. Can you?
We moved her into college this weekend and said our goodbyes today. She will not be sleeping under my roof every night. She will not be fighting with her sister at least once a week. She is embarking on her own journey that God has designed just for her and it is a strange almost surreal thing. It's a bit like leaving a part of your heart behind that you will see later.
Have I mentioned that her college is a mere twenty minutes from my house? That is by car of course, certainly if you chose to ride a horse or a bike it would take longer. I know it seems ridiculous. Perhaps it is but maybe it isn't. No matter how far away the college is, the entire family dynamic is now changed.
This child of mine will not be sleeping under the same roof as her family every night. This child of mine will not be here for breakfast and dinner. This child of mine will now learn self-discipline on an entirely different level. This child of mine belongs to God.
She will come to visit on breaks but even with her being close, it is my duty to allow her to learn to depend on God and herself. It is my duty to allow her to form a new family within the halls of her dorm. To release my hold and not only hope but expect that there are others that God has in mind to make a difference in her life; that will ultimately help to mold and shape her into the woman He has in mind for His purpose. It is my duty and it is hard.
My heart yearns for the days when she was young and she needed me. She doesn't need me as much anymore. She may want me, but she doesn't need me. She is amazing. I can say this because she is my child. If you know her, or think you know her, allow me to tell you that you don't. You don't know her. You think you do, but you don't. You only know, just as you only know of me, the side of her that she allows you to see. My daughter is smart. She is caring and sensitive. She gets her feelings hurt easily. She has a hard time trusting people. She gets along better with people older than her than with her own peer group. She is incredibly funny. If you don't know this about her, you are missing out on one of her most incredible qualities. She is also fiercely protective of her siblings and if I get sad she senses it and allows me to cry on her shoulder. She is destined for great things.
I know all of these things and through all of my excitement for all she is yet to be, all that she is about to do and see and know, I miss her. It's been an hour, it's been a minute, it's been a week, it's been a year, and I miss her. I miss her and part of me can't wait to see the other side. The side where she has learned what her life calling is, she is mature and self-assured. Where instead of not wanting to make eye contact with people for fear of whatever they may think of her, she holds her head high and makes eye contact with everyone because the only one she is concerned with pleasing is God. I look forward to that day and that is the vision I held in my mind as I walked through first one door and then another door and came home.
A quote shared with us this weekend was this: "The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision." -Helen Heller What a profound statement. Don't you think? Allow me to apply this to my current situation. I refuse to be blind to the needs of my child. While I could see her anytime I wanted, that is not what she needs. She doesn't need me to be in her way. I'm no longer first string, I'm sitting the bench. Oh sure she can still come to me if she needs something, money, advice, or just an ear. But we both have to learn that our roles are changing. We need to keep the vision of the future in front of us. We need to have a vision of the future. We need to trust God's plan.
So with a vision of her bringing friends home on break, calling me to tell me she isn't coming home because she has a better offer, walking across a stage to receive a diploma that she earned, and fulfilling her life calling, I know that not only will she do great but I can allow her to be. I can learn to sleep at night with her at college. I can learn to cook for four instead of five. I can learn to not tell her to do her homework. I can learn to not call or text her EVERY day. I can learn to open my grip so I can receive something more. Can you?
July 23, 2014
Growing Pains
Today was another run day for us. My husband says that he thinks Wednesdays are the best run days. He thinks we get farther or go faster. He may go farther faster but I am still lagging behind. I can't keep up. I trot along with my bouncy shuffle hoping that a bone in my calve doesn't break because my calves hurt so much when I run, I feel sure that something is about to break. This cannot be normal. The only consolation I find in this is that while he does shoot out far ahead of me, he does always walk back to me for the walk part of this venture. This ensures that if I do go down, he will find me and I won't be alone for long. (Hmm...kind of like God keeps coming for us. I feel a lesson here.)
As I was running and listening to my music today, I kept my eyes on my husbands back so I would know when to stop running and when to walk. (His phone has the app running while my phone plays the music that keeps me going.) It occurred to me that this scenario is much like our relationship with God. Only when we keep our eyes on Him do we know which direction to go and when a change is coming.
I sing along when I run sometimes. I also apparently have revelations about my walk/run with God. I realized also that the pain I feel in my legs could be compared to growing pains. Oh I don't think I'm going to get any taller and if two weeks of this business hasn't helped me to lose any weight yet, I'd venture that it's not going to any time soon. I think I'm having more than one kind of growing pains though. As I run and feel the pain in my legs, I tell myself that it cannot possible hurt forever. This pain that I'm feeling now will go away once I get to where I'm going, which is home when my run is over. (Side note: Could this help with restless leg syndrome? I, of course, self diagnosed myself with this but I do wonder if it will help or hinder this problem.)
Much like the pain I have in my legs from running, I seem to be having growing pains in my faith. I get asked to do things that I don't necessarily want to do. I don't feel qualified to do. I don't feel prepared to do. I don't think should be necessary for me to do, but mostly I just don't want to do. I am having growing pains and I feel weak. But then 2Corinthians 12:9 pops into my head. It says: But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
I am weak but He is strong. In the race to this life's finish line I don't want to miss out on the celebration at the end. While I'm feeling the growing pains now, with Christ all things are made new. 2 Corinthians 5:17
If then any be in Christ a new creature, the old things are passed away, behold all things are made new. I don't know how new I qualify to be at this age, but I do know I have a lot of growing to do. I also know that I don't want to stay the caterpillar if I can become the butterfly. Butterflies are beautiful and they can fly.
When I run I sometimes grow weary. I won't lie to you about that. (It is sincerely possible that I'm doing something wrong while actually running. Form maybe? I don't know) In the Bible study we are doing it quotes Isaiah 40:31 -but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. I don't want to grow weary. I want to run my race and meet my Jesus at the finish line. I sing praises to God while I run and my legs are burning but when I get to the part where I'm asked to trust and fulfill what may be my true purpose I do sometimes grow weary there too. I'm getting there. When asked personally by someone to do something I say yes. I panic first of course and throw a fit, but then I say yes. It's my process. God knows it's coming. God understands growing pains.
I don't have everything figured out yet. This running Bible study has given me much to ponder and I think I'm learning a lot. Mostly that sometimes we get asked to do things we don't necessarily want to do (like running, speaking in front of people in a class, speaking in front of a large group, like running) but if we will only allow ourselves to try something different we might just get to the other side and wonder what we were afraid of in the first place. It's just growing pains...I have them, you might have them too. I hope to see you on the other side.
As I was running and listening to my music today, I kept my eyes on my husbands back so I would know when to stop running and when to walk. (His phone has the app running while my phone plays the music that keeps me going.) It occurred to me that this scenario is much like our relationship with God. Only when we keep our eyes on Him do we know which direction to go and when a change is coming.
I sing along when I run sometimes. I also apparently have revelations about my walk/run with God. I realized also that the pain I feel in my legs could be compared to growing pains. Oh I don't think I'm going to get any taller and if two weeks of this business hasn't helped me to lose any weight yet, I'd venture that it's not going to any time soon. I think I'm having more than one kind of growing pains though. As I run and feel the pain in my legs, I tell myself that it cannot possible hurt forever. This pain that I'm feeling now will go away once I get to where I'm going, which is home when my run is over. (Side note: Could this help with restless leg syndrome? I, of course, self diagnosed myself with this but I do wonder if it will help or hinder this problem.)
Much like the pain I have in my legs from running, I seem to be having growing pains in my faith. I get asked to do things that I don't necessarily want to do. I don't feel qualified to do. I don't feel prepared to do. I don't think should be necessary for me to do, but mostly I just don't want to do. I am having growing pains and I feel weak. But then 2Corinthians 12:9 pops into my head. It says: But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
I am weak but He is strong. In the race to this life's finish line I don't want to miss out on the celebration at the end. While I'm feeling the growing pains now, with Christ all things are made new. 2 Corinthians 5:17
If then any be in Christ a new creature, the old things are passed away, behold all things are made new. I don't know how new I qualify to be at this age, but I do know I have a lot of growing to do. I also know that I don't want to stay the caterpillar if I can become the butterfly. Butterflies are beautiful and they can fly.
When I run I sometimes grow weary. I won't lie to you about that. (It is sincerely possible that I'm doing something wrong while actually running. Form maybe? I don't know) In the Bible study we are doing it quotes Isaiah 40:31 -but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. I don't want to grow weary. I want to run my race and meet my Jesus at the finish line. I sing praises to God while I run and my legs are burning but when I get to the part where I'm asked to trust and fulfill what may be my true purpose I do sometimes grow weary there too. I'm getting there. When asked personally by someone to do something I say yes. I panic first of course and throw a fit, but then I say yes. It's my process. God knows it's coming. God understands growing pains.
I don't have everything figured out yet. This running Bible study has given me much to ponder and I think I'm learning a lot. Mostly that sometimes we get asked to do things we don't necessarily want to do (like running, speaking in front of people in a class, speaking in front of a large group, like running) but if we will only allow ourselves to try something different we might just get to the other side and wonder what we were afraid of in the first place. It's just growing pains...I have them, you might have them too. I hope to see you on the other side.
July 20, 2014
The Runner
I have many friends who are runners. In fact, I'm friends with an entire group that get up at 5ish in the morning to run. While I do love them all, I find this well...nuts. Never having been a runner and the most running I've ever done, being when chasing after my children, I really have never seen the draw. I still don't. I have to say that I don't see myself ever rising before daybreak to get in a run. I only rise before daybreak if I'm going on a trip or Black Friday shopping.
We have completed our second week of actual running in this C25K program. I love my couch. My couch is white with these removable covers that are machine washable making it safe for kids. The comfort level of this couch is second to none. The windows in the room this couch resides in faces the east and the light streams in making it a wonderful place to get comfy with a book. While this room is a living room or receiving room, I think of it more as a sanctuary. It's my peaceful place in a world gone mad. I can get lost here and venture to brave new worlds. There is a piano here that my daughter sometimes plays while I'm reading making it an even more pleasant experience as I listen to beautiful music as I read.
I miss my couch and yet...sometimes...when we are out together hitting the pavement, my husband and I, I think about what I may be missing holing up in my favorite place. This place that I find such a comfort and bring me such joy may also be the very place that I am hiding in.
Am I hiding? Surely I'm not hiding because I'm not a runner. I've never once had a desire to run. Sure I've had a desire to be healthier or thinner but never, not once, to be a runner. I still don't. The irony of these last few statements is that without question that is exactly what I am. I'm a runner. Not in that I take to the open road and pound the pavement, although I have been doing that. Well in as much as I do my bouncy shuffle down the road and hope that I don't hurt myself or pass out. But more than that, I'm a runner in the sense that when I get scared or overwhelmed or just don't want to do something...I run.
I don't stick around to see the outcome. I don't climb the mountain to see what's on the other side. I much prefer it if someone goes first, takes pictures, and then tells me all about it. Sure I have dreams. Big giant, scary, what if dreams but I really don't think I want them to come true, because what if it's too hard? What if I fail? What if it's not right? What if I misjudged and I chose wrong? What if I only THINK that it is what God wants for me? What if it isn't?
What if ...excuses are second nature to me. I'm great at excuses. Runners usually are. Not the ones in running shoes and all the fancy running gear, no they are dedicated. Rain, snow, or the heat of the day, they keep on running. They have to get their run in. They are more reliable than the USPS or just as reliable anyway. No I'm not that kind of runner. I'm the other kind.
God couldn't possibly want ME to go speak. God couldn't possibly have plans for ME. God couldn't possibly be trying to tell Me something. Who am I? I'm broken. I'm a,,, well... forty something woman with daddy issues. Still upset that her dad didn't call and wish her a happy birthday five days later. What on earth do I have to share?
When I am walking with my husband I take one of my ear buds out so we can talk. Tell him my fears and we talk about the kids, we talk about everything and nothing. When the app says to run however, I plug back in and listen to my contemporary Christian music. Sometimes I cry. I'm really out of shape, I only know how out of shape I am because I was once very in shape. I can tell a distinct difference. But I don't cry because of the pain from running, or maybe I do, only it's the running I'm good at. My legs burn and I listen to my music and talk to God and I wonder why I'm running. Until a whisper comes that maybe I'm running to something instead of away from something this time. Towards what I don't know. I don't even know if I want to know.
Do you run? In this running we've been doing I have to run for 1.5 minutes then walk 2 minutes back and forth until time is up and I have to say I count them down. For someone who is good at one kind of running I count this down till it's over. Then I think shouldn't it go for the other way too? Shouldn't my faith be enough to sustain me so I don't have to run anymore? So I don't WANT to run anymore?
We were asked in this bible study to think of what our life verse would be. The first verse I could think of hangs on my wall. Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." My father comes out and tells me plainly that He will not harm me that He wants to give me hope and a future and I run...because I suppose I don't know how to stop.
I think that is why we are meant to do this program. I didn't want to do it. My husband did, I didn't. I'm a very supportive wife so I agreed. I'm good at supporting everyone but myself actually. But I think this is why we are doing it, at least why I have to do it. Because I need to know that the running can end. That there is a beginning and end to everything and sometimes even when you are running there is an end. Maybe that's the point. You have to learn to run to learn to stop running. To learn to trust that even if I don't like it, it leads to something better than what I had before. To learn to get past my fear so I can get to the blessing beyond it.
I'm not certain of anything except that I'm a slow learner. So if you are looking for me, I'll be hitting the pavement with my husband three days a week. I should warn you that I did get some new running shoes today so my bouncy shuffle may faster.
We have completed our second week of actual running in this C25K program. I love my couch. My couch is white with these removable covers that are machine washable making it safe for kids. The comfort level of this couch is second to none. The windows in the room this couch resides in faces the east and the light streams in making it a wonderful place to get comfy with a book. While this room is a living room or receiving room, I think of it more as a sanctuary. It's my peaceful place in a world gone mad. I can get lost here and venture to brave new worlds. There is a piano here that my daughter sometimes plays while I'm reading making it an even more pleasant experience as I listen to beautiful music as I read.
I miss my couch and yet...sometimes...when we are out together hitting the pavement, my husband and I, I think about what I may be missing holing up in my favorite place. This place that I find such a comfort and bring me such joy may also be the very place that I am hiding in.
Am I hiding? Surely I'm not hiding because I'm not a runner. I've never once had a desire to run. Sure I've had a desire to be healthier or thinner but never, not once, to be a runner. I still don't. The irony of these last few statements is that without question that is exactly what I am. I'm a runner. Not in that I take to the open road and pound the pavement, although I have been doing that. Well in as much as I do my bouncy shuffle down the road and hope that I don't hurt myself or pass out. But more than that, I'm a runner in the sense that when I get scared or overwhelmed or just don't want to do something...I run.
I don't stick around to see the outcome. I don't climb the mountain to see what's on the other side. I much prefer it if someone goes first, takes pictures, and then tells me all about it. Sure I have dreams. Big giant, scary, what if dreams but I really don't think I want them to come true, because what if it's too hard? What if I fail? What if it's not right? What if I misjudged and I chose wrong? What if I only THINK that it is what God wants for me? What if it isn't?
What if ...excuses are second nature to me. I'm great at excuses. Runners usually are. Not the ones in running shoes and all the fancy running gear, no they are dedicated. Rain, snow, or the heat of the day, they keep on running. They have to get their run in. They are more reliable than the USPS or just as reliable anyway. No I'm not that kind of runner. I'm the other kind.
God couldn't possibly want ME to go speak. God couldn't possibly have plans for ME. God couldn't possibly be trying to tell Me something. Who am I? I'm broken. I'm a,,, well... forty something woman with daddy issues. Still upset that her dad didn't call and wish her a happy birthday five days later. What on earth do I have to share?
When I am walking with my husband I take one of my ear buds out so we can talk. Tell him my fears and we talk about the kids, we talk about everything and nothing. When the app says to run however, I plug back in and listen to my contemporary Christian music. Sometimes I cry. I'm really out of shape, I only know how out of shape I am because I was once very in shape. I can tell a distinct difference. But I don't cry because of the pain from running, or maybe I do, only it's the running I'm good at. My legs burn and I listen to my music and talk to God and I wonder why I'm running. Until a whisper comes that maybe I'm running to something instead of away from something this time. Towards what I don't know. I don't even know if I want to know.
Do you run? In this running we've been doing I have to run for 1.5 minutes then walk 2 minutes back and forth until time is up and I have to say I count them down. For someone who is good at one kind of running I count this down till it's over. Then I think shouldn't it go for the other way too? Shouldn't my faith be enough to sustain me so I don't have to run anymore? So I don't WANT to run anymore?
We were asked in this bible study to think of what our life verse would be. The first verse I could think of hangs on my wall. Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." My father comes out and tells me plainly that He will not harm me that He wants to give me hope and a future and I run...because I suppose I don't know how to stop.
I think that is why we are meant to do this program. I didn't want to do it. My husband did, I didn't. I'm a very supportive wife so I agreed. I'm good at supporting everyone but myself actually. But I think this is why we are doing it, at least why I have to do it. Because I need to know that the running can end. That there is a beginning and end to everything and sometimes even when you are running there is an end. Maybe that's the point. You have to learn to run to learn to stop running. To learn to trust that even if I don't like it, it leads to something better than what I had before. To learn to get past my fear so I can get to the blessing beyond it.
I'm not certain of anything except that I'm a slow learner. So if you are looking for me, I'll be hitting the pavement with my husband three days a week. I should warn you that I did get some new running shoes today so my bouncy shuffle may faster.
July 13, 2014
Ten Years...I Wonder....Did you know?
I find myself sitting in my office this evening, torn between wanting to express what I'm feeling and wanting to escape into the book I'm reading. This room has been so many things in the ten years since you were here, yet I can still see the hospital bed in front of the window and the dresser with the television on top of it in the corner. It would seem as though nothing has changed and yet everything has changed.
This morning I awoke in complete despair as if it were going to happen all over again. My feelings so raw that it could be a premonition of what is coming even though it has been ten years since it became my reality. I keep waiting for the rain to come and the lightening show outside the window. By this time ten years ago...has it really been ten years? It feels so fresh to me today. By this time ten years ago everyone had gone home from the pool. The nurse had been called hours ago and come and gone. In just a bit will be the time when I told uncle Paul to go home and get some sleep because we didn't know how long it would be. The children would have been long down in their slumber at their other grandma's house. And here I sit.
I sit on the same side of the room that I would have been at your bedside. Sharon would be at the other side of the bed. About 12:30 a.m. I would have sent my husband upstairs to sleep not knowing it would only be another hour or so. I talked to you that night. I told you how much I loved you and told you it was OK if you wanted to go be with Jesus. In between talking I watch the lightening show and while I am normally afraid of storms, for some reason I felt no fear of the storm that night. I only whispered my love for you and how much I would miss you.
It was after one in the morning and I knew instinctively almost, that the time was drawing near. It was as if time slowed down and sped up all at the same time. You were here and yet you were leaving, as though I had been watching you pack for hours and you were trying to say goodbye but weren't sure about it. I think I felt Him come to the foot of the bed before I felt you leave. I was holding your hand and told Sharon to do the same, it was time. I still find it a miracle that I knew that. It is an add sensation to feel the spirit leave the body. One minute there is life and the next minute it is gone, off to a distant place I can not yet visit.
I wonder...did you know that day that you would be leaving this night? Did you know that Jesus would come himself to take you home? What was it like to awaken and look up onto His face? Did you cry or did you smile knowing you were finally going home? Did you take one last look at your family or did you in awe and wonder just follow Him home?
I can't remember the last time I heard your voice. It makes me sad that I can no longer hear your voice. I have no one to call when I'm cooking dinner.
I think I even miss you getting mad at me. You used to get mad at me. I hate that you got mad at me but I liked it too. It's how I knew you cared. You don't bother getting mad at people you don't care about.
I'm sorry. It's been ten years and I'm sorry if I didn't do enough. I'm sorry if I didn't make you proud or if I didn't do enough for you. I tried. It's so lonely this feeling. I'm an only child and I'm alone without my mother and yet I'm not really alone. I'm surrounded by family and friends. Perhaps just alone in the misery I sink myself into every year for three days.
Tomorrow is the official date of death. July 14th. It's the French Independence Day, one of the only things I remember from French class in high school and also just one day before my birthday. I haven't decided if you were trying to hold out or if you were trying to go before so as not to ruin it. Not that you had much choice in the matter, no one ever does really. I do remember the struggle on your face though before you left. You were always so stubborn. A trait I might have inherited a bit of.
I hate my birthday. Everything about it reminds me of this, of you. You always made birthdays such a big deal. Now they are, but for all the wrong reasons. I'm a willful child mad and upset because nothing can be the way it was because you aren't here. You didn't miss anything and the parent I'm left with misses everything. Barely acknowledging us four times a year. I know, what did I expect? I guess I had hoped he would come up to bat. He just stays in the dugout and never even makes it to the batter's box. That makes me sad too. He's missing everything and even though you are in heaven I feel as though you still never miss a thing.
Today in church we talked about what Jesus as been doing in our life. I went back ten years to this night. The night Jesus came and stood in this very room I sit in now. I have a feeling He is here tonight as well. Perhaps sitting in the other chair as I write this, reminding me of how far we've come. I've struggled more this year than last. Yet I know He will find me and help me find my way back. That's the difference between now and then. I couldn't find my way through all the darkness. Now it's as if when my heart feels heavy and dark His light starts piercing through all the dark until the light just bursts through and the darkness is gone. I know I'm not alone. I know my father holds me in his arms and comforts me and heals me. I know the pain I feel every year is the reminder of His love and His grace and without the pain I wouldn't have truly known what I was missing. I accept it, it still hurts and threatens to break me, yet it refines me. I know this is what I must do to get where I want to be...with my father, always with Him. I know now I can't do anything on my own. Nothing works without Him. I need Him. I long for Him. My heart breaks and sometimes I still feel like running away and yet I turn around and I run back to Him because the alternative would shatter me.
I'm so happy you get to be with Jesus. He loves you so much. I know he does because he loves me too. I wonder...did you know?
This morning I awoke in complete despair as if it were going to happen all over again. My feelings so raw that it could be a premonition of what is coming even though it has been ten years since it became my reality. I keep waiting for the rain to come and the lightening show outside the window. By this time ten years ago...has it really been ten years? It feels so fresh to me today. By this time ten years ago everyone had gone home from the pool. The nurse had been called hours ago and come and gone. In just a bit will be the time when I told uncle Paul to go home and get some sleep because we didn't know how long it would be. The children would have been long down in their slumber at their other grandma's house. And here I sit.
I sit on the same side of the room that I would have been at your bedside. Sharon would be at the other side of the bed. About 12:30 a.m. I would have sent my husband upstairs to sleep not knowing it would only be another hour or so. I talked to you that night. I told you how much I loved you and told you it was OK if you wanted to go be with Jesus. In between talking I watch the lightening show and while I am normally afraid of storms, for some reason I felt no fear of the storm that night. I only whispered my love for you and how much I would miss you.
It was after one in the morning and I knew instinctively almost, that the time was drawing near. It was as if time slowed down and sped up all at the same time. You were here and yet you were leaving, as though I had been watching you pack for hours and you were trying to say goodbye but weren't sure about it. I think I felt Him come to the foot of the bed before I felt you leave. I was holding your hand and told Sharon to do the same, it was time. I still find it a miracle that I knew that. It is an add sensation to feel the spirit leave the body. One minute there is life and the next minute it is gone, off to a distant place I can not yet visit.
I wonder...did you know that day that you would be leaving this night? Did you know that Jesus would come himself to take you home? What was it like to awaken and look up onto His face? Did you cry or did you smile knowing you were finally going home? Did you take one last look at your family or did you in awe and wonder just follow Him home?
I can't remember the last time I heard your voice. It makes me sad that I can no longer hear your voice. I have no one to call when I'm cooking dinner.
I think I even miss you getting mad at me. You used to get mad at me. I hate that you got mad at me but I liked it too. It's how I knew you cared. You don't bother getting mad at people you don't care about.
I'm sorry. It's been ten years and I'm sorry if I didn't do enough. I'm sorry if I didn't make you proud or if I didn't do enough for you. I tried. It's so lonely this feeling. I'm an only child and I'm alone without my mother and yet I'm not really alone. I'm surrounded by family and friends. Perhaps just alone in the misery I sink myself into every year for three days.
Tomorrow is the official date of death. July 14th. It's the French Independence Day, one of the only things I remember from French class in high school and also just one day before my birthday. I haven't decided if you were trying to hold out or if you were trying to go before so as not to ruin it. Not that you had much choice in the matter, no one ever does really. I do remember the struggle on your face though before you left. You were always so stubborn. A trait I might have inherited a bit of.
I hate my birthday. Everything about it reminds me of this, of you. You always made birthdays such a big deal. Now they are, but for all the wrong reasons. I'm a willful child mad and upset because nothing can be the way it was because you aren't here. You didn't miss anything and the parent I'm left with misses everything. Barely acknowledging us four times a year. I know, what did I expect? I guess I had hoped he would come up to bat. He just stays in the dugout and never even makes it to the batter's box. That makes me sad too. He's missing everything and even though you are in heaven I feel as though you still never miss a thing.
Today in church we talked about what Jesus as been doing in our life. I went back ten years to this night. The night Jesus came and stood in this very room I sit in now. I have a feeling He is here tonight as well. Perhaps sitting in the other chair as I write this, reminding me of how far we've come. I've struggled more this year than last. Yet I know He will find me and help me find my way back. That's the difference between now and then. I couldn't find my way through all the darkness. Now it's as if when my heart feels heavy and dark His light starts piercing through all the dark until the light just bursts through and the darkness is gone. I know I'm not alone. I know my father holds me in his arms and comforts me and heals me. I know the pain I feel every year is the reminder of His love and His grace and without the pain I wouldn't have truly known what I was missing. I accept it, it still hurts and threatens to break me, yet it refines me. I know this is what I must do to get where I want to be...with my father, always with Him. I know now I can't do anything on my own. Nothing works without Him. I need Him. I long for Him. My heart breaks and sometimes I still feel like running away and yet I turn around and I run back to Him because the alternative would shatter me.
I'm so happy you get to be with Jesus. He loves you so much. I know he does because he loves me too. I wonder...did you know?
July 10, 2014
Running My Race
Hello! It has been so long since we've talked. So...how have you been? It seems amazing to me that I haven't written since May and yet somehow it seems natural. Not that I wouldn't be writing, but that I have been so busy with family and summer and all that goes with it that I haven't had a minute to even think about it. Forgive me. If you follow me on Facebook, I'm sorry. I'm really bad at social media as it turns out. There are so many authors and public figures that have that whole thing down and I envy them. I am not one of them. Here is what you've missed.
About two weeks ago my husband and I started going to a bible study/exercise thing at church called Run for God. Now I should preface this by saying that I don't run. Not only do I not run I have never ran. I was never an athlete of any sort. I wasn't even a mathlete. I have never been anything that ends with thlete. So you would be correct in assuming that this was not my idea. Love makes you do crazy things.
My husband needed motivation and accountability. Both are things that we all probably need a bit of. When this opportunity at church came up he decided this was just what "we" needed. My husband played sports in school. He was an athlete and he is also very good at math although I don't think he was a mathlete. He also stands for hours at a time for his job so his legs are in far better shape than mine are. I rather enjoy my couch.
The plan is this. We have about 45 minutes of bible study time and then we get outside and walk/run. This week was a five minute warm up followed by 60 second run then 90 second walk over and over and over again ending with a five minute cool down. All this lasts for a total of 30 minutes.
On Monday, we had class then hit the streets for our walk run. I am very good at walking. Why I venture to say I could walk for a good while. We had had some rain earlier and there was some moisture and small puddles in the road. By the second or third round of run I was contemplating licking the water from the road. I was also pretty sure that I didn't have muscles where I was hurting and this was a problem. My head hurt, my legs hurt, my groin hurt, and I was concerned with the whole breathing problem I was having. Breathing was becoming a problem.
My husband said I didn't need to breathe in I needed to breathe out. I was using my reserve air. I had plenty of air. I think he was high on adrenaline. I was pretty sure I didn't have any reserve air. I couldn't get enough air and I was glistening so much it was looking like true sweat. I don't sweat. I didn't even think I had sweat glands. I kept wondering if I passed out which hospital they would take me to and if they would give me an ice cream sundae and tell me everything would be ok. Then I remembered I can't eat dairy anymore and wondered if they would give me a gluten free cupcake and tell me everything would be ok. I was definitely not feeling ok.
On Tuesday we walked, on Wednesday we did another walk/run in our neighborhood. On Wednesday I informed him I loved him and that I didn't necessarily think he was my best friend anymore. He smiled and told me to think about how hot I was going to look on the beach next time we go to Florida. My run looks like a bouncy shuffle and it's so slow a turtle could lap me. But I did it because love makes you do crazy things.
I have no goal. I am supposed to have a goal in mind. I suppose it helps those who truly want to become runners. My dream is not to run and complete a 5k. I suppose if I were to pick a goal for this experience it would be to help my beloved to reach HIS goal. He wants to be able to run a 5k. He wants to be stronger and healthier and I want those things too, I just wouldn't choose running as my means of getting there. But I DO want to help him with his goals and his dreams because I love him. He is the supporter of all of our dreams and he is also my best friend. Whether I get frustrated that I can't keep up with him or not, he is "the cheese to my macaroni." (10 points if you get the reference.)
So I guess I'm running my race while helping him run his race. When you love someone you sometimes do crazy things. The more I think about it, maybe this is good for me too. I get time with him, I get time with God, and I get time to figure out me. I guess even when we aren't runners, we still have our own race to run.
About two weeks ago my husband and I started going to a bible study/exercise thing at church called Run for God. Now I should preface this by saying that I don't run. Not only do I not run I have never ran. I was never an athlete of any sort. I wasn't even a mathlete. I have never been anything that ends with thlete. So you would be correct in assuming that this was not my idea. Love makes you do crazy things.
My husband needed motivation and accountability. Both are things that we all probably need a bit of. When this opportunity at church came up he decided this was just what "we" needed. My husband played sports in school. He was an athlete and he is also very good at math although I don't think he was a mathlete. He also stands for hours at a time for his job so his legs are in far better shape than mine are. I rather enjoy my couch.
The plan is this. We have about 45 minutes of bible study time and then we get outside and walk/run. This week was a five minute warm up followed by 60 second run then 90 second walk over and over and over again ending with a five minute cool down. All this lasts for a total of 30 minutes.
On Monday, we had class then hit the streets for our walk run. I am very good at walking. Why I venture to say I could walk for a good while. We had had some rain earlier and there was some moisture and small puddles in the road. By the second or third round of run I was contemplating licking the water from the road. I was also pretty sure that I didn't have muscles where I was hurting and this was a problem. My head hurt, my legs hurt, my groin hurt, and I was concerned with the whole breathing problem I was having. Breathing was becoming a problem.
My husband said I didn't need to breathe in I needed to breathe out. I was using my reserve air. I had plenty of air. I think he was high on adrenaline. I was pretty sure I didn't have any reserve air. I couldn't get enough air and I was glistening so much it was looking like true sweat. I don't sweat. I didn't even think I had sweat glands. I kept wondering if I passed out which hospital they would take me to and if they would give me an ice cream sundae and tell me everything would be ok. Then I remembered I can't eat dairy anymore and wondered if they would give me a gluten free cupcake and tell me everything would be ok. I was definitely not feeling ok.
On Tuesday we walked, on Wednesday we did another walk/run in our neighborhood. On Wednesday I informed him I loved him and that I didn't necessarily think he was my best friend anymore. He smiled and told me to think about how hot I was going to look on the beach next time we go to Florida. My run looks like a bouncy shuffle and it's so slow a turtle could lap me. But I did it because love makes you do crazy things.
I have no goal. I am supposed to have a goal in mind. I suppose it helps those who truly want to become runners. My dream is not to run and complete a 5k. I suppose if I were to pick a goal for this experience it would be to help my beloved to reach HIS goal. He wants to be able to run a 5k. He wants to be stronger and healthier and I want those things too, I just wouldn't choose running as my means of getting there. But I DO want to help him with his goals and his dreams because I love him. He is the supporter of all of our dreams and he is also my best friend. Whether I get frustrated that I can't keep up with him or not, he is "the cheese to my macaroni." (10 points if you get the reference.)
So I guess I'm running my race while helping him run his race. When you love someone you sometimes do crazy things. The more I think about it, maybe this is good for me too. I get time with him, I get time with God, and I get time to figure out me. I guess even when we aren't runners, we still have our own race to run.
May 13, 2014
Mother's Day and Separation Anxiety
Sunday was Mother's Day and while I spent my day enjoying my family, it did not escape me that this was my l0th Mother's Day without my mom. I miss my mom every day and while holidays are hard, I no longer spend them longing for what I don't have. I choose to spend them relishing in what I still have.
I am blessed to be the mother of three children who drive me crazy, make me question my sanity, make me wonder if I am the only one who messes up, fill my heart with joy, make me believe in miracles, give hugs like no other, inspire me, challenge me, overwhelm me in every way, and remind me that there are people in this life worth sacrificing everything for. We spent our day visiting with family, laughing, eating, playing, resting, and enjoying being in each others presence. I missed my mom but I was reminded that I too am a mom. Plus she got to spend her Mother's Day in paradise with Jesus and I'm willing to bet her day was far more spectacular than anything I would have planned out for her.
Today I did the countdown to the end of the school year. At this point in the year the adults at school are right there with the kids hanging on by a thread. I am ready for summer and yet... this year is different. It's the end. The end of high school for one and the beginning of something else. Thoughts of graduation and the subsequent open house and planning for her going off to college swirl around my head making me dizzy.
It is exciting yet terrifying to think of your children not living with you and striking out on their own and yet I'm reminded that she is God's child and He has a plan for her. One that I am not privy to but must trust will be carried out and will bring only good for her.
I know this to be true and yet when I walk by her room and think about her not being in there every night, I feel lost and incomplete somehow. As though a part of my very being is no longer going to live here. My heart aches and my stomach hurts and I feel as though if I sleep long enough I won't have to let her go. Sleep eludes me. I get engrossed in books so I won't have to think about it. I have an adult case of separation anxiety, I think.
The flip side of that is that I can't wait for her to go. I get so excited to see what happens to her in college. Will she meet her best friend for life like I did? Will she meet a boy? Will she fall in love? Will she get good grades? Will she discover what God's plan for her life is and what her calling is? I am overwhelmed by all of her prospects and get so excited to see what God has in store for her that I can't wait to watch it all unfold before us.
But first is the party. When I graduated my mother had a cake some nuts and some mints. My family and a few friends came by to give me some gifts and wish me. We had some cake and that was it. It is so much more than that now. We have to have food and cake and tents and caterers and entertainment. Some even renting out halls for the occasion. Nothing but nothing about a graduation or even a kid's birthday party is simple anymore. Just a bunch of parents trying to outdo every other parent and show they love their kid more because they gave them more. And for what? In the end does it matter?
We will have food but I am preparing it with friends because really, who would want to eat it if I made it on my own? We have corn hole, a pool that is unheated, a cheep net to play volleyball or badminton that may or may not stay up, and an iPod for entertainment. The cake I'm ordering from the grocery store. I can't keep up with the Jones' nor do I want to try. Perfection eludes me and perfection is boring anyway.
Her party will be great because the people who love her will be there to congratulate her and cheer her on to bigger things. Her party will be great because she will be there. Even my mom will be there. In spirit of course, but I doubt she would want to miss it.
So I'm just over here having mini-melt downs and trusting Jesus to get us through all of the excitement and even the calm time when the excitement is over and reality sets in. In between melt downs though I have work to do. I have a lot of envelopes that need addressed or no one is going to show up to the party!
I am blessed to be the mother of three children who drive me crazy, make me question my sanity, make me wonder if I am the only one who messes up, fill my heart with joy, make me believe in miracles, give hugs like no other, inspire me, challenge me, overwhelm me in every way, and remind me that there are people in this life worth sacrificing everything for. We spent our day visiting with family, laughing, eating, playing, resting, and enjoying being in each others presence. I missed my mom but I was reminded that I too am a mom. Plus she got to spend her Mother's Day in paradise with Jesus and I'm willing to bet her day was far more spectacular than anything I would have planned out for her.
Today I did the countdown to the end of the school year. At this point in the year the adults at school are right there with the kids hanging on by a thread. I am ready for summer and yet... this year is different. It's the end. The end of high school for one and the beginning of something else. Thoughts of graduation and the subsequent open house and planning for her going off to college swirl around my head making me dizzy.
It is exciting yet terrifying to think of your children not living with you and striking out on their own and yet I'm reminded that she is God's child and He has a plan for her. One that I am not privy to but must trust will be carried out and will bring only good for her.
I know this to be true and yet when I walk by her room and think about her not being in there every night, I feel lost and incomplete somehow. As though a part of my very being is no longer going to live here. My heart aches and my stomach hurts and I feel as though if I sleep long enough I won't have to let her go. Sleep eludes me. I get engrossed in books so I won't have to think about it. I have an adult case of separation anxiety, I think.
The flip side of that is that I can't wait for her to go. I get so excited to see what happens to her in college. Will she meet her best friend for life like I did? Will she meet a boy? Will she fall in love? Will she get good grades? Will she discover what God's plan for her life is and what her calling is? I am overwhelmed by all of her prospects and get so excited to see what God has in store for her that I can't wait to watch it all unfold before us.
But first is the party. When I graduated my mother had a cake some nuts and some mints. My family and a few friends came by to give me some gifts and wish me. We had some cake and that was it. It is so much more than that now. We have to have food and cake and tents and caterers and entertainment. Some even renting out halls for the occasion. Nothing but nothing about a graduation or even a kid's birthday party is simple anymore. Just a bunch of parents trying to outdo every other parent and show they love their kid more because they gave them more. And for what? In the end does it matter?
We will have food but I am preparing it with friends because really, who would want to eat it if I made it on my own? We have corn hole, a pool that is unheated, a cheep net to play volleyball or badminton that may or may not stay up, and an iPod for entertainment. The cake I'm ordering from the grocery store. I can't keep up with the Jones' nor do I want to try. Perfection eludes me and perfection is boring anyway.
Her party will be great because the people who love her will be there to congratulate her and cheer her on to bigger things. Her party will be great because she will be there. Even my mom will be there. In spirit of course, but I doubt she would want to miss it.
So I'm just over here having mini-melt downs and trusting Jesus to get us through all of the excitement and even the calm time when the excitement is over and reality sets in. In between melt downs though I have work to do. I have a lot of envelopes that need addressed or no one is going to show up to the party!
April 6, 2014
Forty Two
Not long ago they started showing the movie 42 on HBO. I didn't get to the movie theater to see the movie but had wanted to check it out, so when we came across it on HBO my husband and I started watching it. As it turns out we really enjoy this movie. So much so that if it is on we watch it. In fact, it is on even as I type this.
One evening when my husband and I were watching this movie it occurred to me that he was 42. So I looked at him and I said, "Hey you're forty two, what is that like?" He looked at me as you might think, like I was crazy and said, "Yeah its fine" and continued to watch the movie. That is when it hit me...if he is 42 that means that I'm 41! Wait a minute… when did that happen?
This year I will turn forty two. But will I really? I started thinking about age. Have you noticed that once you hit a certain age the actual number doesn't come into play unless it is divisible by ten? You are an age range. Technically I'm in my early 40's now, not almost 42. Eventually everything is a range, early, mid, late, early to mid, mid to late. But we hold on to that mid to late with everything until we absolutely HAVE to accept that next big number that ends with a zero, then we have a party that we made it.
Aside from my contemplations of weird age anomalies, I also have other things about the movie 42 that I love. I love that Jackie says, "You want a player who doesn't have the guts to fight back?" and Mr. Rickey responds with, "No. I want a player who has the guts NOT to fight back." Amazing isn't it? The guts to NOT fight back!
I am reminded of the Bible. In Matthew 5:39 it says, "But I say this, don't fight against the one who is working evil against you. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, you are to turn and offer him your left cheek." What strength and conviction of faith it takes to not fight back! Our instincts are to fight back and stand up for ourselves. And yet...Jesus says no and taking it one step farther and saying in verse 44 of that same chapter in Matthew "But I tell you this: love your enemies. Pray for those who torment you and persecute you-" and in 45 "in so doing, you become children of your Father in heaven. He, after all, loves each of us-good and evil, kind and cruel. He causes the sun to rise and shine on the evil and good alike. He causes the rain to water the fields of the righteous and the fields of the sinner."
Yes, I think it takes a great deal more guts to not fight back. Maybe you didn't watch this movie and take away from it all that I did, for me it was a good reminder of what we should do and yet sometimes fail to do. In a world full of movies with little to no moral compass, it was nice to watch a movie based on a man who had courage and faith to see it through. Perhaps it was nice to also be reminded of my age. I have a lot of work to do as this year I will be 42.
One evening when my husband and I were watching this movie it occurred to me that he was 42. So I looked at him and I said, "Hey you're forty two, what is that like?" He looked at me as you might think, like I was crazy and said, "Yeah its fine" and continued to watch the movie. That is when it hit me...if he is 42 that means that I'm 41! Wait a minute… when did that happen?
This year I will turn forty two. But will I really? I started thinking about age. Have you noticed that once you hit a certain age the actual number doesn't come into play unless it is divisible by ten? You are an age range. Technically I'm in my early 40's now, not almost 42. Eventually everything is a range, early, mid, late, early to mid, mid to late. But we hold on to that mid to late with everything until we absolutely HAVE to accept that next big number that ends with a zero, then we have a party that we made it.
Aside from my contemplations of weird age anomalies, I also have other things about the movie 42 that I love. I love that Jackie says, "You want a player who doesn't have the guts to fight back?" and Mr. Rickey responds with, "No. I want a player who has the guts NOT to fight back." Amazing isn't it? The guts to NOT fight back!
I am reminded of the Bible. In Matthew 5:39 it says, "But I say this, don't fight against the one who is working evil against you. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, you are to turn and offer him your left cheek." What strength and conviction of faith it takes to not fight back! Our instincts are to fight back and stand up for ourselves. And yet...Jesus says no and taking it one step farther and saying in verse 44 of that same chapter in Matthew "But I tell you this: love your enemies. Pray for those who torment you and persecute you-" and in 45 "in so doing, you become children of your Father in heaven. He, after all, loves each of us-good and evil, kind and cruel. He causes the sun to rise and shine on the evil and good alike. He causes the rain to water the fields of the righteous and the fields of the sinner."
Yes, I think it takes a great deal more guts to not fight back. Maybe you didn't watch this movie and take away from it all that I did, for me it was a good reminder of what we should do and yet sometimes fail to do. In a world full of movies with little to no moral compass, it was nice to watch a movie based on a man who had courage and faith to see it through. Perhaps it was nice to also be reminded of my age. I have a lot of work to do as this year I will be 42.
