Another one from the archives that I never published. This is from September, 2017.
Hello, It's Me. That reminds me of a song from my teen years (Todd Rundgren, 1972; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLeCB7Kn-VE). How time flies. I had a whole life ahead of me back then!
Anyway, somehow, for some unknown reason, I stopped writing. Not because I had nothing to say and not because I was too busy. I don't know why, but I stopped.
What I do know is that I need to write. I need it almost as much as I need to breathe. It unclutters my mind and lets me categorize events in life. It helps me express emotions I might not have confronted otherwise. It makes me pull out of myself and see things clearly and with objectivity. It fills me up and empties me out at the same time. I need to write.
I last blogged in May, almost 4 months ago and I'm mentally reaching back to remember what has happened in that length of time. We've had 2 hurricanes, affecting dozens of people I know and love; my husband and I celebrated 26 wonderful years of marriage together; 2 of my oldest friends passed away too young; we attended 2 family reunions; our adult nephew moved in with us; my doTERRA business has grown; I met and trained a lovely young woman who is a new loan officer at work; and we're transitioning to a new-to-us car.
Life is still hard, but God is still good.
I'm happy to be writing again.
Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts
Monday, February 19, 2018
Saturday, February 17, 2018
Never Have I Ever...
Our current Sunday morning sermon series is on the Beatitudes in the book of Matthew, and this morning we looked at "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they shall be satisfied."
Our pastor started with a question: "Can you think of a time when you were ravenously hungry or desperately thirsty?"
I thought long and hard, entirely missing the next few minutes of the sermon. I remembered recent times I thought I "was starving." I remembered diets and fasts I endured. I remembered college days when I pulled all-nighters to work on a term paper, putting aside food and other luxuries until I finished. I recalled working in my dad's 2-acre garden in the hot sun, wishing for lunch or a cold drink of water. I ransacked my memory banks all the way back to my childhood.
And I decided something. I decided that never have I ever...been desperately hungry or thirsty. Never. What does that say about me?
It says I had parents who loved me and fed me, even when money was tight. I remember a short period of time as a 10-year-old girl when my dad was unemployed. It was summertime, and our garden was in full harvest, which was a good thing for us. He went hunting every day, and if he killed a quail or a squirrel or a rabbit, we had meat for supper. If he didn't, we ate vegetables from our garden. Many were the nights when I stood at the sink with my mom cleaning the last buckshot out of a rabbit before flouring it to fry it up for dinner, thankful for the meat we had that night.
But the fact remains: I have never been desperately hungry or thirsty. That speaks volumes about me. It says I am blessed to live in a wealthy country, where most of our citizens are well-fed and lack nothing. It says I have a reasonable ability to look ahead and save for immediate needs. Most of all, it says that God has prospered me abundantly with things I take for granted every day.
It says I am blessed.
Never have I ever. Thank you, Lord.
Our pastor started with a question: "Can you think of a time when you were ravenously hungry or desperately thirsty?"
I thought long and hard, entirely missing the next few minutes of the sermon. I remembered recent times I thought I "was starving." I remembered diets and fasts I endured. I remembered college days when I pulled all-nighters to work on a term paper, putting aside food and other luxuries until I finished. I recalled working in my dad's 2-acre garden in the hot sun, wishing for lunch or a cold drink of water. I ransacked my memory banks all the way back to my childhood.
And I decided something. I decided that never have I ever...been desperately hungry or thirsty. Never. What does that say about me?
It says I had parents who loved me and fed me, even when money was tight. I remember a short period of time as a 10-year-old girl when my dad was unemployed. It was summertime, and our garden was in full harvest, which was a good thing for us. He went hunting every day, and if he killed a quail or a squirrel or a rabbit, we had meat for supper. If he didn't, we ate vegetables from our garden. Many were the nights when I stood at the sink with my mom cleaning the last buckshot out of a rabbit before flouring it to fry it up for dinner, thankful for the meat we had that night.
But the fact remains: I have never been desperately hungry or thirsty. That speaks volumes about me. It says I am blessed to live in a wealthy country, where most of our citizens are well-fed and lack nothing. It says I have a reasonable ability to look ahead and save for immediate needs. Most of all, it says that God has prospered me abundantly with things I take for granted every day.
It says I am blessed.
Never have I ever. Thank you, Lord.
Walking on the Water
God has never called me to exercise such faith as He has just now. I have never felt so out of control as I do right now. Life has never been more uncertain than it is right now. I'm walking on the water, one step at a time, one foot in front of the other.
I am Peter. The storm rages around me, our tiny boat is taking on water, and I admit it; I am terrified. The lightning flashes and we catch glimpses of a distant vessel and its single occupant. Maybe help is coming? A peal of thunder roars across the water and the sky lights up like the noonday sun. In that moment we see the vessel is closing fast, and the commander, he's...he's standing up tall, still and straight, on the bow of the boat, unafraid. He seems to hover just above the vessel like no human could do. Is this a ghost? The vessel's approach is swift and now he is so close we can hear his voice over the din of the storm. It sounds like Jesus? No. It can't be him. We left him on the shore to rest several hours ago after he finished preaching.
But the voice -- it sounds like his. If it's really him, he can walk above the water. He can do things. He knows things. If it's really him.
Our boat is filling with water and we're bailing as fast as we can, but it's not enough. Terror grips my heart. I look up at him, and the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, "Lord, if it's you, tell me to come to you on the water."
"Come." Just one word. Come. But it is enough. It is Jesus.
What is there to lose? We are taking on water and we're far from shore; we'll all most certainly drown without him. Yes, Jesus, I'll come.
My hands grasp tight to the sides of the boat, but only for a second. All doubt disappears and with one leap of faith I'm on the water, eyes trained on Jesus. Our eyes lock and all else falls away; His alone is the power. His alone is the glory. In Him alone is my faith. The water is solid, the storm fades, and I'm taking another step toward my Savior.
Lightning cuts through the sky and arches out behind me. His eyes hold mine, willing me not to look away. A clap of thunder nearly drowns the screams of my companions and I hear the unmistakable cracking sound of our mast as it splinters and catches fire. His eyes hold me, implore me, steady me. But I must know.
And so I look away. I look behind me at the triumph of the storm's fury. The fire, the lightning, the thunder...and the water.
"Help me, Lord! I'm going under." I should be afraid, but I am calm. Cold black water swallows me, pulls me down. Seaweed tangles around me and I close my eyes and wait. It's quiet.
A beat, maybe two, and suddenly my senses are alive and my body tingles with power as a hand reaches deep to touch my own. His hand. It raises me up, up, up, and I feel hope coursing through my heart. I emerge from the water to find myself face to face with Jesus. He's in our boat, both hands now raised to the sky, locked in a fierce battle with the storm. Finally, He lowers His hands and his head. The wind dies away with the motion and the sky sucks the rain back into itself. The lightning is extinguished like a campfire, and the stars appear.
He looks at me again and all I ever needed is in his eyes. There is no condemnation. He is God. My God. My Savior. The One who commands the universe. The One who knows my next step. The One who pulls me up when my feet fail.
My storm isn't lightning and waves, but I am Peter. All is stripped away until all that is left is to look at God. All I can do is trust. So I plunge out of the boat, onto the water.
Catch me, God. Hold me up above the waves. Extinguish the storm. Calm my fears. Hold my hand. Dry my feet. Comfort my soul.
Here I am.
Where Feet May Fail...Below is the link to one of my favorite songs about being called out onto the water. Listen.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBJJJkiRukY
I am Peter. The storm rages around me, our tiny boat is taking on water, and I admit it; I am terrified. The lightning flashes and we catch glimpses of a distant vessel and its single occupant. Maybe help is coming? A peal of thunder roars across the water and the sky lights up like the noonday sun. In that moment we see the vessel is closing fast, and the commander, he's...he's standing up tall, still and straight, on the bow of the boat, unafraid. He seems to hover just above the vessel like no human could do. Is this a ghost? The vessel's approach is swift and now he is so close we can hear his voice over the din of the storm. It sounds like Jesus? No. It can't be him. We left him on the shore to rest several hours ago after he finished preaching.
But the voice -- it sounds like his. If it's really him, he can walk above the water. He can do things. He knows things. If it's really him.
Our boat is filling with water and we're bailing as fast as we can, but it's not enough. Terror grips my heart. I look up at him, and the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, "Lord, if it's you, tell me to come to you on the water."
"Come." Just one word. Come. But it is enough. It is Jesus.
What is there to lose? We are taking on water and we're far from shore; we'll all most certainly drown without him. Yes, Jesus, I'll come.
My hands grasp tight to the sides of the boat, but only for a second. All doubt disappears and with one leap of faith I'm on the water, eyes trained on Jesus. Our eyes lock and all else falls away; His alone is the power. His alone is the glory. In Him alone is my faith. The water is solid, the storm fades, and I'm taking another step toward my Savior.
Lightning cuts through the sky and arches out behind me. His eyes hold mine, willing me not to look away. A clap of thunder nearly drowns the screams of my companions and I hear the unmistakable cracking sound of our mast as it splinters and catches fire. His eyes hold me, implore me, steady me. But I must know.
And so I look away. I look behind me at the triumph of the storm's fury. The fire, the lightning, the thunder...and the water.
"Help me, Lord! I'm going under." I should be afraid, but I am calm. Cold black water swallows me, pulls me down. Seaweed tangles around me and I close my eyes and wait. It's quiet.
A beat, maybe two, and suddenly my senses are alive and my body tingles with power as a hand reaches deep to touch my own. His hand. It raises me up, up, up, and I feel hope coursing through my heart. I emerge from the water to find myself face to face with Jesus. He's in our boat, both hands now raised to the sky, locked in a fierce battle with the storm. Finally, He lowers His hands and his head. The wind dies away with the motion and the sky sucks the rain back into itself. The lightning is extinguished like a campfire, and the stars appear.
He looks at me again and all I ever needed is in his eyes. There is no condemnation. He is God. My God. My Savior. The One who commands the universe. The One who knows my next step. The One who pulls me up when my feet fail.
My storm isn't lightning and waves, but I am Peter. All is stripped away until all that is left is to look at God. All I can do is trust. So I plunge out of the boat, onto the water.
Catch me, God. Hold me up above the waves. Extinguish the storm. Calm my fears. Hold my hand. Dry my feet. Comfort my soul.
Here I am.
Where Feet May Fail...Below is the link to one of my favorite songs about being called out onto the water. Listen.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBJJJkiRukY
Matthew 14
Jesus Walks on the Water
22 Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. 23 After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray.Later that night, he was there alone, 24 and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.
25 Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake.26 When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.
27 But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
28 “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”
29 “Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30 But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”
31 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”
32 And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. 33 Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
Sunday, October 8, 2017
It's Not Okay
My niece, Livvy, and I have a wonderful and close relationship; I respect her opinion and often seek her advice. But sometimes we keep it light and just chat, or brainstorm, or laugh.
A couple of days ago we were together discussing health issues, both our business endeavors, and other fairly weighty issues. I wasn't feeling particularly optimistic about any of them and spoke openly about my frustration. My wise, sweet niece called me out on it in her own respectful, loving way.
She reminded me of conversations we've had in the past in which we discussed the impact of our words, and the effect of positive affirmations, particularly those spoken out loud.
Of course, I immediately began making excuses, "But I don't feel that way. I seriously don't feel good and I am truly having issues with my business. What am I supposed to say? I can't say 'oh, I feel great' when I don't!"
"You say it sarcastically or jokingly if you have to, but you say it. Out loud. It's okay to say, 'oh, I'm just full of energy today,' even when you think you can't take another step."
And the implication was, "It's NOT okay to give the enemy a foothold with your words."
Our words matter -- just think of all the Scriptures that reference words! Here are just a few:
A couple of days ago we were together discussing health issues, both our business endeavors, and other fairly weighty issues. I wasn't feeling particularly optimistic about any of them and spoke openly about my frustration. My wise, sweet niece called me out on it in her own respectful, loving way.
She reminded me of conversations we've had in the past in which we discussed the impact of our words, and the effect of positive affirmations, particularly those spoken out loud.
Of course, I immediately began making excuses, "But I don't feel that way. I seriously don't feel good and I am truly having issues with my business. What am I supposed to say? I can't say 'oh, I feel great' when I don't!"
"You say it sarcastically or jokingly if you have to, but you say it. Out loud. It's okay to say, 'oh, I'm just full of energy today,' even when you think you can't take another step."
And the implication was, "It's NOT okay to give the enemy a foothold with your words."
Our words matter -- just think of all the Scriptures that reference words! Here are just a few:
- God SPOKE everything that is into existence
- The Israelites experienced God's punishment because they GRUMBLED against Moses
- The Israelites SHOUTED and the walls of Jericho came down
- God caused a donkey to SPEAK in the Old Testament to get the donkey's owner's attention
- Jacob was named deceiver and he became exactly that; God renamed him Israel and he turned his life around and lived up to his new name
- The book of Romans tells us we must 'CONFESS WITH OUR MOUTH' the Lord Jesus Christ' and believe in our hearts to be saved
Livvy's right--my words matter. I'm so grateful she loved me enough to speak truth into my life that day.
It's not okay to verbalize defeat. Instead, I decided that day to claim happiness, and it revolutionized my day!
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Yesterday My Beautiful Friend was Laid to Rest...
and I can't stop thinking about it. My mind is a jumble and I'm exhausted from the emotion.
Lisa was one of my oldest and dearest friends. I met her in August of 1986 when we were young teachers who still believed we could change the world, that we could touch every child, that we could right every wrong. And like those who went before us, we gave it our best shot and fell short. But we did it together and that kept the beacon of hope burning, at least for a while.
I remember the moment in 1993 when I decided to leave my position at the school. I never gave a thought to the fact that I was leaving my closest friends; never had a worry about the fate of our friendships. But I should have because that was the beginning of the end of the close relationship Lisa and I enjoyed. Sometimes I think I spent the next 20 years trying to replace that relationship, but I don't think I ever really did.
Looking back, I understand now that I under-valued our friendship and took for granted that it would always be there. In a way, it was, because Lisa was one of those friends who picked up where you left off the last time you saw them, no matter how long ago it was. But here's what I missed out on -- all those years I could have enjoyed a rich, deep, and seasoned friendship.
When we taught together, at the end of a long day, one of us often said to the other, "What's for dinner at your house tonight?" Over the years, I've wanted to ask Lisa that question again so many times. I do, however, still have a recipe for Chicken Parmigiana that she shared with me on one of those long days. That recipe card has suddenly become a treasured possession.
She wasn't taken too soon, but I did take too long rekindling our friendship, thinking I had years--decades maybe--to make time for that. Turns out, I didn't. I'm so sorry, Lisa.
Lisa was one of my oldest and dearest friends. I met her in August of 1986 when we were young teachers who still believed we could change the world, that we could touch every child, that we could right every wrong. And like those who went before us, we gave it our best shot and fell short. But we did it together and that kept the beacon of hope burning, at least for a while.
I remember the moment in 1993 when I decided to leave my position at the school. I never gave a thought to the fact that I was leaving my closest friends; never had a worry about the fate of our friendships. But I should have because that was the beginning of the end of the close relationship Lisa and I enjoyed. Sometimes I think I spent the next 20 years trying to replace that relationship, but I don't think I ever really did.
Looking back, I understand now that I under-valued our friendship and took for granted that it would always be there. In a way, it was, because Lisa was one of those friends who picked up where you left off the last time you saw them, no matter how long ago it was. But here's what I missed out on -- all those years I could have enjoyed a rich, deep, and seasoned friendship.
What have I learned?
I learned that we lie to ourselves. I told myself that Lisa didn't need me because she was so close to her family. That lie allowed me to deflect responsibility for keeping up the relationship.
I learned that true friends come along infrequently in life. When one comes to you, he or she is worth the time and effort it takes to stay in touch. A true friendship is worth cultivating and maintaining.
I learned how to identify a real friend. They're the ones who tell you the truth, even when it's unpleasant. They're the ones who listen to your ideas, encourage you, and help you make them better--then they hand the credit right back to you. They're the ones who dare to disagree with you but somehow you don't mind so much. They're the ones whose eyes fill with tears when you cry. They're the ones who pray for you, laugh with you, and problem-solve with you. Lisa was that kind of friend to me.
There are so many things I wanted to ask her whenever we next met; so many things I would have told her. For instance, when we both were elementary school teachers together, we used to laughingly accuse the high school teachers of having the easier job. They got a whole hour or two of break time each day; no recess duty; very little responsibility at lunchtime; fewer papers to grade, etc. But the biggie was that they could actually go to the bathroom between classes instead of having to hold it until lunch time!
Lisa eventually moved from elementary school to high school, and I so wanted to ask her, "Is it true? Do you really have an easier job than you did when you taught fifth grade?" We would have had fun talking about that!
When we taught together, at the end of a long day, one of us often said to the other, "What's for dinner at your house tonight?" Over the years, I've wanted to ask Lisa that question again so many times. I do, however, still have a recipe for Chicken Parmigiana that she shared with me on one of those long days. That recipe card has suddenly become a treasured possession.
I wanted to commiserate with her about growing old...was she developing age spots on her hands? Did she have all kinds of aches and pains? Did she have trouble sleeping? I wanted one more chance at some good old-fashioned girl talk.
So many conversations I wish I would have started. So much friendship I missed out on. So many tearful lessons to learn.
I kept thinking that Lisa was taken too soon. I thought about that for a while before I realized she wasn't. As hard as it is, as young as she was, it wasn't too soon It was in God's perfect timing, and it was right on time. Even at her funeral, Lisa's family testified that God had a plan in taking her so soon. It's just that we can't see it right now.
She wasn't taken too soon, but I did take too long rekindling our friendship, thinking I had years--decades maybe--to make time for that. Turns out, I didn't. I'm so sorry, Lisa.
You never know how much time you don't have.
Let's stop right now and take care of our friendships.
Saturday, May 20, 2017
I Want...
I want...something, but I don't know what it is. I feel unsettled. I'm vaguely unhappy and I don't know why. I'm feeling empty, tired, and in need of something different.
Sound familiar? It's certainly an old and comfortable chorus in the song of my life. I revert to this stanza regularly, and I never seem to find answers to stop the coda of repeats. It seems that I always end up back on this verse, rehearsing the restlessness, singing the blues, holding out for the next thrill, drumming my fingers, wishing for who-knows-what.
And then, out of the blue, today it hit me. I'm not missing anything. I'm not empty. I'm not unfulfilled. I'm just falling for one of the oldest tricks in Satan's handbook.
Discontentment.
Discontentment makes you want something more. Makes you believe that something is missing. Obscures the blessings that come your way. Deceives you into thinking the next thrill will satisfy you. Causes you to lust after the world. Keeps you off balance. Makes you ineffective in your day-to-day life. Derails your focus.
Discontentment is believing a lie that keeps you perpetually waiting for something to fill you. Your self-focus on fulfillment stops you from ministering to others. As a matter of fact, it stops you from any outward-focused activity at all.
What if we stopped entertaining restlessness, stopped looking for something to consume. What if instead, we counted our blessings, reflected God's love? Would the restlessness go away?
I'm sorry for the restlessness I have entertained and nurtured. I am already full, already blessed, already fulfilled. I just forgot for a moment.
"Count your blessings, name them one by one; count your blessings, see what God has done..."
Sound familiar? It's certainly an old and comfortable chorus in the song of my life. I revert to this stanza regularly, and I never seem to find answers to stop the coda of repeats. It seems that I always end up back on this verse, rehearsing the restlessness, singing the blues, holding out for the next thrill, drumming my fingers, wishing for who-knows-what.
And then, out of the blue, today it hit me. I'm not missing anything. I'm not empty. I'm not unfulfilled. I'm just falling for one of the oldest tricks in Satan's handbook.
Discontentment.
Discontentment makes you want something more. Makes you believe that something is missing. Obscures the blessings that come your way. Deceives you into thinking the next thrill will satisfy you. Causes you to lust after the world. Keeps you off balance. Makes you ineffective in your day-to-day life. Derails your focus.
Discontentment is believing a lie that keeps you perpetually waiting for something to fill you. Your self-focus on fulfillment stops you from ministering to others. As a matter of fact, it stops you from any outward-focused activity at all.
What if we stopped entertaining restlessness, stopped looking for something to consume. What if instead, we counted our blessings, reflected God's love? Would the restlessness go away?
I'm sorry for the restlessness I have entertained and nurtured. I am already full, already blessed, already fulfilled. I just forgot for a moment.
"Count your blessings, name them one by one; count your blessings, see what God has done..."
Monday, July 11, 2016
This is My Job, My Battle...I'm Waging War
I used to have a vocation that demanded I show up every day and give 100% while I was there. I still have a job like that, but now I've added a new full-time job: studying my disease.
It's ironic. Those of us who have the least amount of energy in reserve are also the ones called upon to expend the most energy working two full-time jobs.
I guess I have two choices:
1) Work just one full-time job and let Parkinson's Disease happen to me like a hurricane relentlessly pounding on my door in increasing severity every day. Let other people control my health plan. Accept PD as my new lifestyle and let it in my door as if it were that one family member we all dread spending time with because they just won't leave. Resign myself to entertaining PD during its permanent, and demanding, visit.
OR I can
2) Look PD in its wicked evil eye, put on the boxing gloves, and take it head-on. Study it. Build a mental picture of me without PD. Use healing words, think healing thoughts, eat healing foods, participate in healing exercises. Find out how other people with PD are managing their symptoms through food, exercise, glutathione treatments, essential oils and other holistic approaches. Work at it like it's a full-time job. Work at it like it's my first priority full-time job since I have two now. One job pays the bills, and one might save my life.
PD...it's requiring action and a new commitment from me. If I don't fill the space in my life with this new job, PD will seep in like a silent noxious gas, filling every corner with suffocating invisible fumes.
PD, you will never be my friend. You are not welcome here. I'm declaring war right here, right now. No longer do I say, "I have Parkinson's Disease." Instead, I'll say I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease, or I exhibit PD symptoms. I don't claim this disease as my own, even though I might suffer today with symptoms that look like PD.
I'm at war, but I need help. I need the energy of my family and friends to infuse me regularly. I need the prayer support of people who love me. I need encouragement and new ideas from everyone I know. I need to be reminded that I am not alone. On some days I might even need to be carried. But, hear this: I am not pulling over and stopping. I am not giving up. I am not rolling over.
I'm fighting.
chttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xo1VInw-SKc
"Starting right now I'll be strong...and I don't really care if nobody else believes 'cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me." Rachel Platten, Fight Song
It's ironic. Those of us who have the least amount of energy in reserve are also the ones called upon to expend the most energy working two full-time jobs.
I guess I have two choices:
1) Work just one full-time job and let Parkinson's Disease happen to me like a hurricane relentlessly pounding on my door in increasing severity every day. Let other people control my health plan. Accept PD as my new lifestyle and let it in my door as if it were that one family member we all dread spending time with because they just won't leave. Resign myself to entertaining PD during its permanent, and demanding, visit.
OR I can
2) Look PD in its wicked evil eye, put on the boxing gloves, and take it head-on. Study it. Build a mental picture of me without PD. Use healing words, think healing thoughts, eat healing foods, participate in healing exercises. Find out how other people with PD are managing their symptoms through food, exercise, glutathione treatments, essential oils and other holistic approaches. Work at it like it's a full-time job. Work at it like it's my first priority full-time job since I have two now. One job pays the bills, and one might save my life.
PD...it's requiring action and a new commitment from me. If I don't fill the space in my life with this new job, PD will seep in like a silent noxious gas, filling every corner with suffocating invisible fumes.
PD, you will never be my friend. You are not welcome here. I'm declaring war right here, right now. No longer do I say, "I have Parkinson's Disease." Instead, I'll say I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease, or I exhibit PD symptoms. I don't claim this disease as my own, even though I might suffer today with symptoms that look like PD.
I'm at war, but I need help. I need the energy of my family and friends to infuse me regularly. I need the prayer support of people who love me. I need encouragement and new ideas from everyone I know. I need to be reminded that I am not alone. On some days I might even need to be carried. But, hear this: I am not pulling over and stopping. I am not giving up. I am not rolling over.
I'm fighting.
chttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xo1VInw-SKc
"Starting right now I'll be strong...and I don't really care if nobody else believes 'cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me." Rachel Platten, Fight Song
Monday, July 4, 2016
Counting my Blessings
You know what? Life is good. Even if it's just for this one minute, it's good. I spend so much time complaining that today I want to just tell you the good things. I want to proclaim them for everyone to know!
You've heard it said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder...well, I think good and bad are in the attitude of the proclaimer. The last time I posted, my feelings were raw, I was afraid, I felt bad, and I was losing hope. I wrote a transparent post that revealed all of that to the reader... I didn't leave you guessing about how I felt!
Today...well, today is a whole new day. It's a GOOD day, and you know why? Because I feel good and I have hope again. Objectively speaking, the world looks pretty much the same as it did when I last posted, but one thing has changed: my attitude is different. See? Good and bad are in the attitude of the proclaimer!
The good things in my life today won't mean much to most of my readers, and that's okay. In a few minutes, I'm going to name them anyway. Maybe it will encourage you to make your own list of good things. But before I give you my list, I want to tell you about a childhood memory.
We always went to church when i was growing up, and all the songs we sang are indelibly imprinted in my mind even today. I remember one old hymn we must have sung a lot. It was called "Count Your Blessings," written by Johnson Oatman, Jr. in 1897. Even though it's an old song, the principles are sound, the theology is right, and the application is still current. Here are the words:
So.... here are some of my specific personal blessings in this good day, recounted in no particular order. I'd like to name them publicly now, and be grateful for them:
My parents just adopted an adult woman my age! I have a sister now!
It's Independence Day. Our country is still a good place to live -- we are all rich in comparison with most other countries. And, depending, upon which index you reference, the US is still ranked as the 20th freest country in the world.
My new PD medication is agreeing with me, and after only 3 days, I might be starting to notice a difference! I'm actually a little concerned that I might have TOO much energy -- sleep is not even close, and it's after 11:00. That's okay -- I have hope now, and that makes all the difference.
When I went out to eat with my family for lunch today, I found that Ruby Tuesday's actually has a gluten-free bun! I had the first hamburger sandwich WITH bun that I've eaten out in literally years!
My brother and my nephew are staying over with us tonight so they can catch an early train out for their next job in Denver tomorrow morning. I got to fix snacks for the road for them and provide them a free, clean place to sleep tonight.
My parents and my new sister came to visit today. It seems my parents recently "found" some forgotten money, and they decided to share with us! They got us a new printer, filled up our gas tank, and took me shopping today! We had such a sweet visit!
Our house is fairly clean and picked up, so we were able to welcome last-minute company without anxiety.
We actually got our printer hooked up and working without having to call support for help! This is BIG for non-techy people like us!
I have a good job that has the potential for significant earnings, and it really is going pretty well. I'm looking forward to going in tomorrow after the long weekend. Well, okay, that might be slightly overstated...I'm not dreading it, at least!
Our garden is beautiful, and it's bearing cucumbers, peppers, and zucchini. There are pretty green tomatoes on the vines just biding their time, waiting to ripen. Our garden makes me smile all the way down in my heart.
Lastly, I've had the privilege of calling the sweetest, kindest man in the world my husband for 25 years now!
I am blessed. The blessings didn't come because I felt good today. They were there all along, I just couldn't find them. Maybe I wasn't looking hard enough.
Go out today and be blessed. Count your blessings with me!
You've heard it said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder...well, I think good and bad are in the attitude of the proclaimer. The last time I posted, my feelings were raw, I was afraid, I felt bad, and I was losing hope. I wrote a transparent post that revealed all of that to the reader... I didn't leave you guessing about how I felt!
Today...well, today is a whole new day. It's a GOOD day, and you know why? Because I feel good and I have hope again. Objectively speaking, the world looks pretty much the same as it did when I last posted, but one thing has changed: my attitude is different. See? Good and bad are in the attitude of the proclaimer!
The good things in my life today won't mean much to most of my readers, and that's okay. In a few minutes, I'm going to name them anyway. Maybe it will encourage you to make your own list of good things. But before I give you my list, I want to tell you about a childhood memory.
We always went to church when i was growing up, and all the songs we sang are indelibly imprinted in my mind even today. I remember one old hymn we must have sung a lot. It was called "Count Your Blessings," written by Johnson Oatman, Jr. in 1897. Even though it's an old song, the principles are sound, the theology is right, and the application is still current. Here are the words:
- When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord has done. - Refrain:
- Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your blessings, see what God has done!
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your many blessings, see what God has done.
- Count your blessings, name them one by one,
- Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly,
And you will keep singing as the days go by. - When you look at others with their lands and gold,
Think that Christ has promised you His wealth untold;
Count your many blessings—money cannot buy
Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high. - So, amid the conflict whether great or small,Do not be discouraged, God is over all;
Count your many blessings, angels will attend,
Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.
So.... here are some of my specific personal blessings in this good day, recounted in no particular order. I'd like to name them publicly now, and be grateful for them:
My parents just adopted an adult woman my age! I have a sister now!
It's Independence Day. Our country is still a good place to live -- we are all rich in comparison with most other countries. And, depending, upon which index you reference, the US is still ranked as the 20th freest country in the world.
My new PD medication is agreeing with me, and after only 3 days, I might be starting to notice a difference! I'm actually a little concerned that I might have TOO much energy -- sleep is not even close, and it's after 11:00. That's okay -- I have hope now, and that makes all the difference.
When I went out to eat with my family for lunch today, I found that Ruby Tuesday's actually has a gluten-free bun! I had the first hamburger sandwich WITH bun that I've eaten out in literally years!
My brother and my nephew are staying over with us tonight so they can catch an early train out for their next job in Denver tomorrow morning. I got to fix snacks for the road for them and provide them a free, clean place to sleep tonight.
My parents and my new sister came to visit today. It seems my parents recently "found" some forgotten money, and they decided to share with us! They got us a new printer, filled up our gas tank, and took me shopping today! We had such a sweet visit!
Our house is fairly clean and picked up, so we were able to welcome last-minute company without anxiety.
We actually got our printer hooked up and working without having to call support for help! This is BIG for non-techy people like us!
I have a good job that has the potential for significant earnings, and it really is going pretty well. I'm looking forward to going in tomorrow after the long weekend. Well, okay, that might be slightly overstated...I'm not dreading it, at least!
Our garden is beautiful, and it's bearing cucumbers, peppers, and zucchini. There are pretty green tomatoes on the vines just biding their time, waiting to ripen. Our garden makes me smile all the way down in my heart.
Lastly, I've had the privilege of calling the sweetest, kindest man in the world my husband for 25 years now!
I am blessed. The blessings didn't come because I felt good today. They were there all along, I just couldn't find them. Maybe I wasn't looking hard enough.
Go out today and be blessed. Count your blessings with me!
Vacation 2016 Photo Album
 |
| Our Amtrak train |
2016 by going on a week-long vacation from June 20-June 28.
We took an Amtrak sleeper car out through the Rocky Mountains,
time touring Canyonlands National Park, Arches National Park,
detraining on the west side of Colorado in Grand Junction.
From there, we rented a car and drove to Moab, Utah where
we spent 3 days. We stayed at the Aarchway Inn and spent
Ready for dinner at Jefffrey's
 |
| Arches National Pa |
and Dead Horse Point State Park. We had a special dinner at Jeffrey's Steakhouse in Moab on our anniversary -- probably the best service and the best food I've ever eaten out... probably the most expensive too! Overall, a wonderful vacation!
 |
| Our Amtrak train going around the bend ahead of us. We were in the second car from the end. |
 |
| Arches National Park |
 |
| Dead Horse Point State Pa |
 |
| The Balanced Rock in Arches National Park. |
 |
| Beautiful Rocky Mountains |
 |
| Our room at the Aachway Inn in Moab, Utah |
 |
| My name in lights!! Not too many "Dorys" around! |
 |
| The observation car on our train |
Monday, June 27, 2016
Faces of Humanity
It’s easy to get caught up in my own little world, writing about my own little disease, my own little vacation, my own little life…
But all around me are faces of people with lives of their own. They remind me not to become so self-absorbed; that my life isn’t nearly so bad, or maybe that it isn’t nearly so good, as someone else’s. And almost anyone is willing to talk to a listening, sympathetic ear.
I don’t know how people know I’m a good listener, but they instinctively seek me out --- and I’m talking about total strangers now, not just friends and acquaintances. People in Kroger ask if I know where the beans are. People in the parking lot ask me for directions. People in Kohl’s ask me about the weather.
Once my niece walked through Kroger with me and we must have talked to 3 or 4 strangers. I asked her if I had a sign on my forehead that said, “Talk to me.” She told me my problem is that I make eye contact and smile at people.
Is that really a problem? I like people. They remind me that there’s goodness in the world; sometimes they make me remember there’s evil in the world too. But always they make me mindful that my life and circumstances are not the worst or the best.
I’m sitting in our Amtrak sleeper berth right now, blogging offline until I can find a connection. We’re on our return trip after a lovely vacation. We departed Grand Junction, CO at 10:23 AM, about an hour ago. We’re due in to Chicago’s Union Station at 2:50 tomorrow afternoon, then destination Indianapolis around midnight tomorrow night.
In all of our wanderings over the last week or so, we’ve met lots of strangers with compelling stories. I know I’ll never see them again, and I wonder what will become of them.
I’m thinking especially of Phyllis...quite a forward older lady who asked if she could sit with us in the observation car on our westbound train. We were enjoying the intimacy of our shared anticipation of the next leg of our journey, and didn’t really want company. But Phyllis was alone and apparently needed companionship, so we said we didn’t mind if she sat with us. We wanted to enjoy conversation with each other, but Phyllis kept us occupied with chit-chat non-stop for about 2 hours, during the most scenic portion of our train ride. She was returning home to Glenwood Springs after attending her grandson’s 4th birthday party in Denver. She was a retired controller, and chatted about her daughter, water rights, the “world’s oldest visible stone,” a recent train accident, why you shouldn’t talk on your cell phone while charging it, and the flora and fauna of this part of the country (to name a few!). I told her it was our 25th anniversary, and she said, “That used to be part of my happily ever after too, until I got a divorce.” Though she didn’t go on, it was obvious that Pandora’s box of pain, shame, and disappointment had cracked it’s lid a little.
And then there was Adam, our shuttle driver from the hotel. He used to work in the oil fields, and only saw his family once every 2 or 3 months, so he quit and took this job for about one third of the pay. He said it was his first “tip job.” He didn’t do anything out of the way, but I got the feeling there was a rougher side to him that we were not seeing. He showed us where his family lived, and alluded to the fact that he might have had a drinking problem in the past. He would have told me anything else I wanted to know, but I didn’t ask.
We also met Ella May and her friend, both in their 80’s, who took lavish and frequent vacations together; Jan, a tour director who hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in at least 2 days because she was taking care of injuries and illness within her group; two unnamed guys in their 60’s, one of whom shared my banking profession and just retired June 1; Torrie, our server at Jeffrey’s Steakhouse, who is getting married in 2 weeks and wanted to know the secret to making a marriage last 25 years; and an older French couple who couldn’t speak a word of English, but managed to communicate that he had been in insurance and she was in banking.
These are the faces of humanity. These are people I don’t really know, but I sympathized with and privately prayed for. These are people who shared a piece of themselves with a total stranger, trusting they would be well-received. These are people who might hurt more than I hurt...who might have deeper scars than I have, and whose future may be bleaker than mine.
God bless you, Phyllis, Torrie, Jan, Ella May, and all the rest who may not have shared your name with me. Thank you for reminding me that I am not the only one in pain, and my pain is not greater than everyone else’s pain. Thank you for granting me perspective.
For a convicting music video by Brandon Heath that puts feet to this topic, go to https://g.co/kgs/pJvWxE.
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Lest We Forget
This post isn't about Parkinson's Disease, except in the fact that I had a good enough day today that I didn't feel the need to write about it! I actually could think of something else for once, so I decided to take advantage of this good day and write about something other than my disease. So here's my non-Parkinsons post:
A surprising thing happened at the salon where I had my nails done last Tuesday.
My salon is owned by permanent resident aliens who struggle with their English, work hard from morning till night, and write to loved ones at home whom they miss dearly. They do a great job on my nails, although we do have the occasional language barrier. Like Tuesday... I thought I was getting a French manicure with a flower on my ring fingernail. What I got was a solid color nail with a flower on my ring fingernail, which wasn't exactly the color I would have chosen for a solid nail. When the nail tech asked me to choose a color, I chose a natural tone I expected would pair nicely with a white tip. Alas, the white tip was apparently lost in interpretation, so now I just have a natural color....with a flower drawn on top. But it's growing on me!
In spite of the language barrier, I've learned a thing or two about my nail tech. She is as good at eyebrows as she is at nails. She calls me Mama because she thinks I look like her mother. She thinks doing my eyebrows takes 10 years off my age. And...when she says, "I do this for you," what she really means is, "This will cost you a little extra."
And did I say she does a better job on my nails than anyone else ever has?
One other thing I've learned about Tina is that she wants to become a US citizen. While I was getting painted and flowered on Tuesday, Tina had a video playing on her phone at her station about citizenship. It appeared to be provided by the US government and walked the immigrant through the required one-on-one interview, telling them what to expect, what kind of conversational questions might be asked, and what the immigration officer would be looking for.
At the same time as we were listening to the video, the centrally mounted television set was competing for my attention with all kinds of interesting 5:00 news stories. Each time I looked away toward the television, Tina would nudge me and gesture toward her video playing on the table by my left hand. For whatever reason, she wanted me to share her video experience.
And so I listened with her as the knowledge section of the video spouted questions and the corresponding answers about American history, geography, current events, and government. She repeated the answers after the moderator on the video as if trying them out to see how the strange combination of consonants and vowels felt coming off her tongue.
"Who was the Father of our Country?" George Washington.
"Name 2 wars that took place in the 1900's." Korean War, World War I, World War II, the Gulf War, Vietnam War
"Name 2 of the 13 original colonies." Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Georgia, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Maryland, South Carolina, New Hampshire, Virginia, New York, North Carolina, Rhode Island.
"Who is the Vice-President of the United States today?" Joseph Biden.
"What are the 3 branches of government?" Legislative, Judicial, Executive
"Would you be willing to bear arms to defend the United States of America?" Yes.
"Would you swear your loyalty to the United States, forsaking all other countries?" Yes.
Etc., etc., etc.
In this unkind world of politics, in this election year, in this environment of slanted, inaccurately reported news, it was refreshing and heartwarming to hear non-partisan, factual questions and answers, and a review of American history. It reminded me of how proud I am to be an American. In spite of all the things I disagree with, and all the mistakes we make as a nation, and all the manipulation that goes on in our government, in that moment, I felt pride and a sense of belonging to the greatest nation in the world.
So, lest we forget, here are the lessons I learned:
1) Not all immigrants are bad or illegal, or out to steal your job or your money, or blow up airplanes. Some of them are people like you and me with stories and dreams, and they want to become Americans.
2) Our country is still great and strong, and worth being proud of.
Maybe we all should listen to the citizenship video periodically.
"God bless America, land that I love. Stand beside her, and guide her through the night with the light from above."
Amen.
A surprising thing happened at the salon where I had my nails done last Tuesday.
My salon is owned by permanent resident aliens who struggle with their English, work hard from morning till night, and write to loved ones at home whom they miss dearly. They do a great job on my nails, although we do have the occasional language barrier. Like Tuesday... I thought I was getting a French manicure with a flower on my ring fingernail. What I got was a solid color nail with a flower on my ring fingernail, which wasn't exactly the color I would have chosen for a solid nail. When the nail tech asked me to choose a color, I chose a natural tone I expected would pair nicely with a white tip. Alas, the white tip was apparently lost in interpretation, so now I just have a natural color....with a flower drawn on top. But it's growing on me!
In spite of the language barrier, I've learned a thing or two about my nail tech. She is as good at eyebrows as she is at nails. She calls me Mama because she thinks I look like her mother. She thinks doing my eyebrows takes 10 years off my age. And...when she says, "I do this for you," what she really means is, "This will cost you a little extra."
And did I say she does a better job on my nails than anyone else ever has?
One other thing I've learned about Tina is that she wants to become a US citizen. While I was getting painted and flowered on Tuesday, Tina had a video playing on her phone at her station about citizenship. It appeared to be provided by the US government and walked the immigrant through the required one-on-one interview, telling them what to expect, what kind of conversational questions might be asked, and what the immigration officer would be looking for.
At the same time as we were listening to the video, the centrally mounted television set was competing for my attention with all kinds of interesting 5:00 news stories. Each time I looked away toward the television, Tina would nudge me and gesture toward her video playing on the table by my left hand. For whatever reason, she wanted me to share her video experience.
And so I listened with her as the knowledge section of the video spouted questions and the corresponding answers about American history, geography, current events, and government. She repeated the answers after the moderator on the video as if trying them out to see how the strange combination of consonants and vowels felt coming off her tongue.
"Who was the Father of our Country?" George Washington.
"Name 2 wars that took place in the 1900's." Korean War, World War I, World War II, the Gulf War, Vietnam War
"Name 2 of the 13 original colonies." Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Georgia, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Maryland, South Carolina, New Hampshire, Virginia, New York, North Carolina, Rhode Island.
"Who is the Vice-President of the United States today?" Joseph Biden.
"What are the 3 branches of government?" Legislative, Judicial, Executive
"Would you be willing to bear arms to defend the United States of America?" Yes.
"Would you swear your loyalty to the United States, forsaking all other countries?" Yes.
Etc., etc., etc.
In this unkind world of politics, in this election year, in this environment of slanted, inaccurately reported news, it was refreshing and heartwarming to hear non-partisan, factual questions and answers, and a review of American history. It reminded me of how proud I am to be an American. In spite of all the things I disagree with, and all the mistakes we make as a nation, and all the manipulation that goes on in our government, in that moment, I felt pride and a sense of belonging to the greatest nation in the world.
So, lest we forget, here are the lessons I learned:
1) Not all immigrants are bad or illegal, or out to steal your job or your money, or blow up airplanes. Some of them are people like you and me with stories and dreams, and they want to become Americans.
2) Our country is still great and strong, and worth being proud of.
Maybe we all should listen to the citizenship video periodically.
"God bless America, land that I love. Stand beside her, and guide her through the night with the light from above."
Amen.
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Short Take...Every Day
Winning...
Choosing right...
Surrender...
Accomplishing these things is good, but it's a daily discipline. Pretty soon all those individual days of discipline put together make a habit.
The key is that it happens one day at a time.
Winning, choosing right, surrender -- you don't just do it once, and then you never have to work on it again. No, it's a daily thing. If I won yesterday, I have to do it again today, and again tomorrow.
Keep at it. Every single day.
Welcome, world, to my own private pep talk for Tuesday!
Choosing right...
Surrender...
Accomplishing these things is good, but it's a daily discipline. Pretty soon all those individual days of discipline put together make a habit.
The key is that it happens one day at a time.
Winning, choosing right, surrender -- you don't just do it once, and then you never have to work on it again. No, it's a daily thing. If I won yesterday, I have to do it again today, and again tomorrow.
Keep at it. Every single day.
Welcome, world, to my own private pep talk for Tuesday!
Monday, March 7, 2016
Holding the Line
Why is it that I always have something to say EXACTLY when I should be getting ready for work, or going to bed, or fixing dinner? Like right now...I should be getting ready for work.
That theme falls in step and relates loosely with what's on my mind this morning It occurs to me that many of us adjust our lifestyle from crisis to crisis, instead of holding the line steady during crisis, thus ensuring the boat is still tied to the dock when we emerge on the other side. If we're constantly adjusting, our horizon is constantly shifting, our goals become obscured, and we finally lose our way altogether.
I know, because I lost my way, and I just now realized it.
We all have crises in life --- true, legitimate crises. We have them all the time. They will always be there, and they will always demand our attention. They will always bid for a position as our highest priority, and they will always drain us of our greatest resources: time and energy.
But our life's goals cannot, must not, be compromised by each crisis that comes along, no matter how legitimate.
My recent personal experience is an example of that exact error. In October last year, I was approached by a recruiter for a new job. It took about six weeks to work through all the interviews and applications, accept the job, get through orientation, and out into the field. It was dramatic and all-consuming, and huge in my life. I made the mistake of putting everything else on hold "just until I get through this job change."
It was Thanksgiving time when I finally made the transition, and then we were thrown into the whirlwind of the holidays. I put everything on hold again "just until the holidays are over."
I was just "making plans" to "get back on track" -- do those phrases sound familiar? -- when my brother had a horrific, fiery racing accident on February 13, and we nearly lost him (read about his ordeal, or donate to gofundme here: /http://www.motorsportsnews.net/columnists/stephen-cox-blog/trapped-burning-race-car-part/).
So, I've been putting life on hold "until things get back to normal" for my family. Again.
Let's just get real and track this decline: In October I stopped eating properly, I stopped going to the Life Wellness Center for therapy, I stopped exercising, and I stopped effectively meal planning. It was just for a few weeks, until I got through my job change.
Now it's March. I still haven't resumed a proper diet, I am still promising the Life Wellness Center that I'll be back soon, and I still have great plans to exercise again. Oh, and I'm really serious about not eating out so much. Right away... just as soon as my brother gets well.
Really?
I had legitimate crises in life, one after the next. But I have news for all of us in crisis: the emergencies will keep coming. There will always be a good reason why I cannot achieve my goals this month. I'm starting to see why I cannot adapt and adjust my lifestyle at every turn to accommodate the crisis of the day.
The answer? I think I have to hold the line, no matter the weather. I have to write down the coordinates of the goal, and keep it in view, no matter if the waves roll into my boat. I might have to row a little more slowly while I bail the water out, but the coordinates don't change, and I never stop looking at the goal. Progress might be a little slower at times, but there must always be progress. Progress in my spiritual walk, progress in my physical health, progress in my push toward a timely retirement.
The key is progress. The goal doesn't change. Crisis does not exempt me.
Just something to think about.
That theme falls in step and relates loosely with what's on my mind this morning It occurs to me that many of us adjust our lifestyle from crisis to crisis, instead of holding the line steady during crisis, thus ensuring the boat is still tied to the dock when we emerge on the other side. If we're constantly adjusting, our horizon is constantly shifting, our goals become obscured, and we finally lose our way altogether.
I know, because I lost my way, and I just now realized it.
We all have crises in life --- true, legitimate crises. We have them all the time. They will always be there, and they will always demand our attention. They will always bid for a position as our highest priority, and they will always drain us of our greatest resources: time and energy.
But our life's goals cannot, must not, be compromised by each crisis that comes along, no matter how legitimate.
My recent personal experience is an example of that exact error. In October last year, I was approached by a recruiter for a new job. It took about six weeks to work through all the interviews and applications, accept the job, get through orientation, and out into the field. It was dramatic and all-consuming, and huge in my life. I made the mistake of putting everything else on hold "just until I get through this job change."
It was Thanksgiving time when I finally made the transition, and then we were thrown into the whirlwind of the holidays. I put everything on hold again "just until the holidays are over."
I was just "making plans" to "get back on track" -- do those phrases sound familiar? -- when my brother had a horrific, fiery racing accident on February 13, and we nearly lost him (read about his ordeal, or donate to gofundme here: /http://www.motorsportsnews.net/columnists/stephen-cox-blog/trapped-burning-race-car-part/).
So, I've been putting life on hold "until things get back to normal" for my family. Again.
Let's just get real and track this decline: In October I stopped eating properly, I stopped going to the Life Wellness Center for therapy, I stopped exercising, and I stopped effectively meal planning. It was just for a few weeks, until I got through my job change.
Now it's March. I still haven't resumed a proper diet, I am still promising the Life Wellness Center that I'll be back soon, and I still have great plans to exercise again. Oh, and I'm really serious about not eating out so much. Right away... just as soon as my brother gets well.
Really?
I had legitimate crises in life, one after the next. But I have news for all of us in crisis: the emergencies will keep coming. There will always be a good reason why I cannot achieve my goals this month. I'm starting to see why I cannot adapt and adjust my lifestyle at every turn to accommodate the crisis of the day.
The answer? I think I have to hold the line, no matter the weather. I have to write down the coordinates of the goal, and keep it in view, no matter if the waves roll into my boat. I might have to row a little more slowly while I bail the water out, but the coordinates don't change, and I never stop looking at the goal. Progress might be a little slower at times, but there must always be progress. Progress in my spiritual walk, progress in my physical health, progress in my push toward a timely retirement.
The key is progress. The goal doesn't change. Crisis does not exempt me.
Just something to think about.
Friday, February 19, 2016
We are an Army, Looking for Meaning in the Storm
It's been a while since I last posted to my blog. I was ready to write last week when something bad happened and derailed me.
My brother -- my only sibling -- was in a racing accident the morning of February 13. I'll spare the details, but his car caught fire during a race, and he suffered life-threatening 1st-3rd degree burns on 7% of his body and face. He was airlifted to a world-class burn unit in TX, near where he was racing at the time. Our family was immediately plunged into crisis mode, where we still remain.
It's been a family cooperative, this getting through crisis. My brother is healing better than we might have expected and we await word on whether he will need surgery. We are so grateful.
Through all of this, however, and through my own Parkinson's Disease made worse by recent stress, I am left to ponder something: How are we validated for our struggles? When do we get to know it was, indeed, worth it? Where's the glimmer of meaning that will carry us through one more day? Am I the only one who ponders such things?
I'm not asking why (at least not today!). I'm not expressing anger. I'm not questioning God. I'm just asking for our experiences -- mine and my brother's, and yours -- to have meaning. Tangible, measurable, quantitative meaning that leaves us feeling glad to have been a part of it, in spite of the pain.
If I can share my experience with someone and help them through their own pain, that's meaningful. If I am changed into a better or more godly person through my pain, that's meaningful. If God re-purposes me for something I'm now uniquely qualified to do, that's meaningful.
Finding meaning in the storm is the only way I have found to survive it. God forbid I should come through the storm, and emerge as exactly the same person who went into it. I want to come out wiser, or stronger, or better, or happier. I cannot bear coming out just the same.
God grant us -- you and me, Stephen, and anyone else fighting your way through your own storm -- God grant us meaning we can measure, change we can see, and hope for tomorrow.
As I look through Facebook, I try to pull myself out of my own little world long enough to see what others are going through; I try to keep from focusing on just my own family's trauma. And then I see it -- pain and suffering. So many of my friends are in crisis. My family is not alone, we are not the only ones fighting, we are not the only ones in quiet pain. There's an army of us marching through the storm. May we march together, not in solitude. May we find meaning together.
So, Army, let's fight, fight, fight! Let's determine to be hopeful. Let's emerge better on the other side because of the pain. And let's encourage each other as we walk in step together in this new day.
May God bless us all today. Amen.
To help defray my brother's medical costs go to:
www.gofundme.com/WRLRacerReliefFund
#RaceDad
My brother -- my only sibling -- was in a racing accident the morning of February 13. I'll spare the details, but his car caught fire during a race, and he suffered life-threatening 1st-3rd degree burns on 7% of his body and face. He was airlifted to a world-class burn unit in TX, near where he was racing at the time. Our family was immediately plunged into crisis mode, where we still remain.
It's been a family cooperative, this getting through crisis. My brother is healing better than we might have expected and we await word on whether he will need surgery. We are so grateful.
Through all of this, however, and through my own Parkinson's Disease made worse by recent stress, I am left to ponder something: How are we validated for our struggles? When do we get to know it was, indeed, worth it? Where's the glimmer of meaning that will carry us through one more day? Am I the only one who ponders such things?
I'm not asking why (at least not today!). I'm not expressing anger. I'm not questioning God. I'm just asking for our experiences -- mine and my brother's, and yours -- to have meaning. Tangible, measurable, quantitative meaning that leaves us feeling glad to have been a part of it, in spite of the pain.
If I can share my experience with someone and help them through their own pain, that's meaningful. If I am changed into a better or more godly person through my pain, that's meaningful. If God re-purposes me for something I'm now uniquely qualified to do, that's meaningful.
Finding meaning in the storm is the only way I have found to survive it. God forbid I should come through the storm, and emerge as exactly the same person who went into it. I want to come out wiser, or stronger, or better, or happier. I cannot bear coming out just the same.
God grant us -- you and me, Stephen, and anyone else fighting your way through your own storm -- God grant us meaning we can measure, change we can see, and hope for tomorrow.
As I look through Facebook, I try to pull myself out of my own little world long enough to see what others are going through; I try to keep from focusing on just my own family's trauma. And then I see it -- pain and suffering. So many of my friends are in crisis. My family is not alone, we are not the only ones fighting, we are not the only ones in quiet pain. There's an army of us marching through the storm. May we march together, not in solitude. May we find meaning together.
So, Army, let's fight, fight, fight! Let's determine to be hopeful. Let's emerge better on the other side because of the pain. And let's encourage each other as we walk in step together in this new day.
May God bless us all today. Amen.To help defray my brother's medical costs go to:
www.gofundme.com/WRLRacerReliefFund
#RaceDad
Saturday, October 10, 2015
Rain for a Parched Spirit
Sometimes it's good to just sit and let "it" wash over you...whatever your "it" may be. Maybe it's your favorite music, or drifting in and out of a sleepy nap, or listening to rain hit the window, or relaxing to the night sounds as twilight falls. "It" is the thing that empties you and fills you at the same time. Stress dissipates and peace saturates, and your soul is satisfied.
I needed to be replenished today. I wasn't looking for it or expecting it, but sometimes that's when the best surprises happen. My "it" happened in Nashville, Indiana, at the Common Grounds Coffee Shop, and it couldn't have been more restorative, thanks to my niece, Olivia.
Livvy is a singer and songwriter, and her primary platform is Christian music. She's been writing music and performing since she was 12 years old, but took a hiatus to get married and have a sweet baby boy. She's writing music again, and today she performed at the coffee shop in Nashville.
I had the sweetest time listening to songs that fell like rain and drenched my parched spirit. There are times in my spiritual walk when I'm inconsistent with my devotional times, and I feel distance between God and me. In those times, I soak up everything I can find to nourish my soul: the Sunday sermon, worship at church, Christian radio, and today...Livvy's music.
Comfortable in the coffee shop, my worries and stress fell away. I held hands with my husband. I sipped a perfect drink. I remembered how much God loves me and cares when I hurt. And I was sustained, encouraged, and comforted by the power of the words God gifted to Olivia.
The process of being restored and replenished can sometimes be painful, but today it was glorious and beautiful. Thank you, Olivia.
Livvy gave me permission to share the words to one of the songs that most blessed me. I wish you could have heard them delivered beautifully as I did today, but I hope they will bless you just the same.
I needed to be replenished today. I wasn't looking for it or expecting it, but sometimes that's when the best surprises happen. My "it" happened in Nashville, Indiana, at the Common Grounds Coffee Shop, and it couldn't have been more restorative, thanks to my niece, Olivia.
Livvy is a singer and songwriter, and her primary platform is Christian music. She's been writing music and performing since she was 12 years old, but took a hiatus to get married and have a sweet baby boy. She's writing music again, and today she performed at the coffee shop in Nashville.
I had the sweetest time listening to songs that fell like rain and drenched my parched spirit. There are times in my spiritual walk when I'm inconsistent with my devotional times, and I feel distance between God and me. In those times, I soak up everything I can find to nourish my soul: the Sunday sermon, worship at church, Christian radio, and today...Livvy's music.
Comfortable in the coffee shop, my worries and stress fell away. I held hands with my husband. I sipped a perfect drink. I remembered how much God loves me and cares when I hurt. And I was sustained, encouraged, and comforted by the power of the words God gifted to Olivia.
The process of being restored and replenished can sometimes be painful, but today it was glorious and beautiful. Thank you, Olivia.
Livvy gave me permission to share the words to one of the songs that most blessed me. I wish you could have heard them delivered beautifully as I did today, but I hope they will bless you just the same.
“It’s Okay”
Words and Music By Olivia Kay Pritchett
Verse 1
He said "I know you, child, I know your desires.
I know what sets your heart on fire.
I know your passions, I know your needs,
And this road I'm paving covers everything.
Chorus
It's okay if you're weak, I will be your strength;
It's okay if you can't speak, I can hear you anyway.
It's okay if you're crying, I will never be far;
It's okay if you're broken, I will mend your shattered heart.
Verse 2
I said I'd always be there, always at your side
But to trust isn't to understand, just follow your Guide.
Who said you'd never hurt? Who said you'd go untouched?
Make no mistake, there's pain, but not compared to My love.
Chorus
Bridge
Now that you see your brokenness,
That without me you're nothing at all;
Now that you see your imperfections,
Now you are beautiful."
Friday, July 24, 2015
The Kroger Discovery Tour
Time to write again...I was too tired last night and I almost skipped it again tonight.
But I didn't.
I will eventually get to the Kroger thing, but first, here's a quick recap of the really important stuff.
It's been a rough week, having been the only one at work in my position, and being left to cover 3 people's desks. The one saving grace is that I am only working 5 hours a day. On the one hand, the short days hurt me because I needed 8-10 hour days to catch up, so I still have 400+ emails to contend with. On the other hand, working 5-hour days has left me with at least a little energy in reserve on most days, and has allowed me to spend a little time trying to clean up the house. I'm grateful I've been under doctor's orders for these 5-hour days, because I am feeling better than I might have been.
And here's the "how I felt today" report for Yolanda:
But I didn't.
I will eventually get to the Kroger thing, but first, here's a quick recap of the really important stuff.
It's been a rough week, having been the only one at work in my position, and being left to cover 3 people's desks. The one saving grace is that I am only working 5 hours a day. On the one hand, the short days hurt me because I needed 8-10 hour days to catch up, so I still have 400+ emails to contend with. On the other hand, working 5-hour days has left me with at least a little energy in reserve on most days, and has allowed me to spend a little time trying to clean up the house. I'm grateful I've been under doctor's orders for these 5-hour days, because I am feeling better than I might have been.
And here's the "how I felt today" report for Yolanda:
- Thursday morning I had a headache and felt very groggy and kind of dizzy all morning. It wasn't a bad headache, just a naggy one. I don't think I had slept well the night before.
- Thursday night I had terrible heartburn and I did not sleep very well. Is that because I cheated on my diet and had tortilla chips with guacamole at dinner?
- I'm still having heartburn today, as well, and I haven't cheated any more. What's up with that? Is it just the side effects of my Parkinson's meds, specifically the Mirapex ER?
- My Parkinson's symptoms are not improved, but my energy level is.
- The swelling in my feet and leg is probably worse. Did you tell me it would be a little worse this week, then would get better after that?
NOW, on to the Kroger story!
I never realized all the stuff you can find in the grocery store! Typically, I go in the store by the produce section, then hit most of the aisles, working off of a list, going straight to the product I want, and moving on. I suspect most of us do it pretty much the same way. Even when I don't have a list, I still go straight to the product.
What I'm getting at here is that I never, ever look at certain items in the store. Now that I've been put on a special diet by Yolanda, however, I've been looking for something new, and I've opened my eyes to more of what's out there. For instance, I NEVER go to the water aisle, but I'm supposed to be drinking a certain kind of alkaline water now, so I started looking. Holy cow! I couldn't believe all the kinds of water you can buy!
And what about the international aisle??!! Wow! All those bizarre ingredients that show up on Chopped must come from this aisle: fish sauce, oyster sauce, rice noodles, 15 kinds and sizes of flour tortillas, Thai soup, clam juice, coconut milk, chow mein noodles, etc., etc., etc.!
And then, there's the cold cut section and the frozen meat section (I was trying to find some new applications/products for turkey or chicken). I typically avoid these areas because they are full of processed foods, and I don't believe those foods are healthy. In desperation, however, I was wiling to try to find something new that fit my diet parameters. Again, WOW! Do you have any idea how many kinds of frozen breakfast items you can buy? Everything from frozen sandwiches to organic frozen sausages that are almost healthy, 19 kinds of potatoes, and English muffins, gluten free and regular! (Am I the only one who never knew this?!)
I guess I'm just saying open your eyes. See what's around you. Look someplace you never looked before. Venture out. Try something you never tried before. Speak to someone you never talk to. Order something you never get at your favorite restaurant. Wear something you haven't worn in months.
Have we forgotten how to be original? How to think outside the box?
It might give us all a new perspective!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)