"If you can't say something nice ... "

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5Bbt9extsg

... in short: I have sooo many friends that are not believers as Christians define "belief". So many good people. These friends show no interest in changing their faith, they believe they have the answers they need. For them to betray their faith would be like asking Billy Graham to betray his Christianity.

Who is to say either of them are wrong?



I know, I know ... The Bible.

Well, I'll tell you my problem with this thinking these days:



I know people who call themselves "Christians" and they are horrible people. I know a "Christian" who hurt my child and people like that think that, because they prayed the right prayer and asked Jesus into their heart "once upon a time" that makes it "okay" ... forgive and move on, right? They get the "Get Out of Jail Free" card that they can turn in when they reach the Pearly Gates and I feel guilty for not forgiving in the name of Jesus.

I have my past, too. I made mistakes along the way and wouldn't deserve the 'Get Out of Jail Free' card if my actions were held up before God during the end of my first marriage. I'm not saying I'm better than anybody else. But - there ARE people who have done better than I have on this journey and what? Because they weren't raised to pray that sinner's prayer they are forever condemned if they don't pray now because it's not something they have been raised to believe is real?

I'd like to know what makes some sinners okay but yet a person with a much more honest, ethical living is condemned to hell because they didn't say the right prayer?


One prayer?

There are verses galore to tell me why I'm wrong, why a ticket to Heaven isn't about good works "lest any man should boast" - and personally - I should be thrilled that it's not about good works because I fall so short. But at this point in my life I just don't think that what I've been taught is right any more. At least not in its entirety.

I'm not sure what I believe about Heaven or Hell or Jesus or the Bible. I know there's something much Bigger out there than me - than all of us ... but who can say for certain Who that is?

We all think we're right ... even the people who don't read the Holy Bible. They read the Book of Mormon or something else ... they have devoted their lives to service. They sacrifice, they give, they love, they help. Why are Christians the only ones who are safe?

I don't know.


I know senior citizens who are wonderful people ... I do not believe they are condemned to hell because they didn't pray the right prayer in their younger years.

I know people who have given all their possessions away because they have seen others in need but ... they don't pray to Jesus.

How in the world can they be condemned to hell? But a person that prays the last minute on a cross gets in? For real??

I sincerely hope it's not true.

I know there have been times in my life that I have sincerely, urgently, eagerly, fervently cried out to God. I've asked Him for help. I've waited - at times so patiently it's ridiculous.

Looking back? He didn't help my family when my kids were little. He didn't help my first husband when he sincerely tried to do right by our church members and no matter what - it wasn't good enough ~ a few of those church members made it their mission to beat him down and run him out. I hated that time in my life -- I hated church and a few of the individuals that attended. I cannot imagine they would have a right to occupy Heaven while another who lived a highly moral life but didn't pray "the prayer" was denied a right to occupy Heaven. I don't believe God protected my child when molestation was going on without our knowledge. I had a gut feeling about certain situations - that something wasn't right ... but I was told I was too overprotective, that I didn't have enough faith. "Let go - Let God."

Bull shit. I should've followed my gut and not listened to in-laws or church members that said I needed to entrust my kids into other's care ... I should have listened to me!

If God really cared so much about a sparrow ... ?

?

I can accept that ultimately His ways are better than mine and that I don't deserve salvation or Heaven any more than the next sinner.



But there are people who really deserve Heaven more than some frauds calling themselves Christians who, quite frankly, don't deserve to get in.


Am I bitter? I guess so. It sure sounds like it when I read this over. I just get so tired of people who are nasty, hateful, mean, hurtful, even evil - hiding in church pews or church choirs, or Sunday School classes, or church nursery's, or Christian School Day Care Centers ... and they have hidden agendas but ... they prayed the right prayer so .... it's covered.

I can't accept that.



Why doesn't God fix this? It's an age old question ... I know. "Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?" Innocent children especially!




I want to be a patient follower. But I just don't even HEAR Him when I call on Him.

Do you?

I mean REALLY??!




I'm not singling anybody out here but if you are reading this blog right now and you consider yourself a Christian -- if you believe in God - if you have accepted Jesus ... do you sincerly have that daily, close fellowship and relationship with Him? Or do you not and you just act like you do because everybody else acts like that?

It seems like a biblical version of, "The Emperor's New Clothes" sometimes. I'm not saying that God is not real .... but I am beginning to conclude that I don't know Him very well.

I want to.

If I could hear Him for myself. If I could REALLY HEAR HIM. If He would just say to me, "Be still and know that I am God" - and I wouldn't have to just read those words from a Bible translated thousands of years ago.

I want to hear from the Almighty today - well, I'm not demanding today - I'm not trying to demand any day. And I don't want to be struck by lightning for questioning ... it's a little scary to put myself out there. But honestly --

I want to hear something current. I want that peace that passeth all understanding.



Heck, I'd just like some understanding right now.

I listen to both Air 1 Radio and K-Love radio. The hosts of those shows SOUND like they have a real relationship with God. But do they? Are they just playing the part because it's part of the job description?

I want to hear from God, be assured that it's Him and build a relationship with Him. I want that more than anything else right now.


I'll keep you posted ~

... between a rock and a hard place?

I'm stuck.

I really am stuck.

When I started this "blog" a few months back - I started it with the intention of dealing with my weight problem once and for all. I had heard from others (those who'd had success with keeping their weight off) that journaling and/or keeping track of everything you eat on a daily basis can help an individual achieve permanent weight loss. Hey! I want permanent weight loss so ... if successful people indicate this is one of the things that helped them keep their weight off ... count me in.

The thing is, I'm finding that I log on to write my weight and often end up talking about something else. Of late? God.

I wonder at times if I will figure these things out ... if I will truly find God and feel a sense of peace with where I am spiritually. I wonder if I will finally figure out why I struggle so much with my weight.

I am pretty convinced that I cannot find the answers to one without working through my questions about the other (if that makes any sense). I think I use food as a coping mechanism to deal with feelings and I have so many conflicting feelings regarding my faith lately that I think the two are going hand in hand - the struggle with both my faith and my weight.

As I've said before - it's not a journey anybody else can take for me but if they could I'd definitely pass this torch to the runner ahead of me and I'd step off the track and see who comes in first.

That's not supposed to be as much of a "woe as me" as it sounds but the answers I seek are not coming easy. I'll think about something and then a verse will come back to me that reminds me, "Nope - that's not what the Bible says."

I guess some of this comes down to how I see the Bible. Do I believe the bible is the fully inspired Word of God ... verbatim? Is it a book written during a time when cultures and rituals were much different? Was it written for people of our day? Is it a relevant book for today? If I believe some of it, do I have to believe all of it?

There are no easy answers for me right now. I'm definitely seeking.


I'll keep you posted ...

... of walking and Winnebago's (Part V)

So here’s the thing ... there’s a lot of GOOD stuff in the Bible when you decide to read it for yourself, by yourself.

[Don’t get me wrong – I have nothing at all against the idea of getting together with others but – it’s a lot better when you read and then listen for God to speak instead of just listening to that the lady seated next to you in the circle with the cookie in her hand (that she says she shouldn’t be eating) and a bible opened on her lap.]

These ramblings are just that: My ramblings. This is 100% my journey and I can assure you – not everything will be theologically sound/accurate at all times. It’s okay … I’m working on it. Simply stated: This blog is an indicator of where I am at this point in my life. A way for me to work out some of my questions about God, a way to talk about my weight loss journey, etc. I do my best “thinking” when I have a pen in my hand or a keyboard at my fingertips.

Please – I would implore you - don’t use anybody else’s journey as an excuse to bypass your own. (That would be like asking someone to put on their running shoes and do your daily exercise for you ~ it doesn’t work that way. And it won’t show up on your scale as pounds lost. You’ve got to do the work[out] yourself.)

Moving on ~ to be certain I wasn’t totally butchering the “Doubting Thomas” story last time around – I looked it up and read it once again.

Here’s the story from the NIV version of the Bible:

19 On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!"
20 After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.
21 Again Jesus said, "Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you."
22 And with that he breathed on them and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit.
23 If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven."

24 Now Thomas (called Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came.
25 So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord!" But he said to them, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it."
26 A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!"
27 Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe."
28 Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God!"
29 Then Jesus told him, "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."


Okay - here's the deal: I get you Thomas. I toootally hear where you’re coming from. And personally … I’m not so sure that Thomas’ issue had so much to do with the fact that he didn’t believe what the other disciples had told him. I think it had more to do with the fact that Thomas wanted to see Jesus for himself ~ and not just take his friends’ word for it. (That's the way I'm reading it anyway).

And ... THAT is where I am coming from here.

Seriously ~ read that passage from the bible yourself (if you don't have one I'll loan you mine ... for a couple minutes - ha). I found it interesting that, when Jesus appeared to his disciples the first time He stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” ... WHAT was the first thing the Bible says He did after that?

20After He said this, He showed them His hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.

Hmmm – look how the King James Version translates this:

19 Then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you.
20 And when he had so said, he shewed unto them his hands and his side. Then were the disciples glad, when they saw the LORD.

I think He confirmed what they needed without them having to ask because He knew they were wondering.
I’m sure this isn’t some new revelation to Bible scholars – but it’s new to me.

I’ve always felt like Thomas was kinda’ the “loser disciple” – the skeptical, doubting, wannabe disciple who had to have “proof” (while the others had super strength faith and were full of conviction and assurance when their friend Jesus walked through ... the wall!)

Why do you think Jesus took the initiative to show them His scars? The way I read this, I think it almost seems that Jesus knew that His disciples would need “proof.” I think He realized these brothers were wondering if He was the real deal (after all – it’s not everyday your dead friend walks through the wall to say, “Hey!”). Before they even asked Him to do so – He offered his hands and side as proof that the scars were real and that He was, indeed, their dear friend Jesus.

Thomas catches a lot of flack from the pulpit for being a doubter but … I don’t think he was alone in his feelings. I just think the others were afraid to admit it.

This reminds me of my first semester back in college after a 20+ year “break” (ha)! You see, I have always been allergic to “math” – seriously. That course is pretty much the reason I never finished the first time around – math intimidation. I decided I was going to face it head on in the Fall of 2007 so I had my transcripts forwarded to the community college in my hometown and then …

I signed up for a class lovingly referred to by incoming college freshman as “bonehead math.” Right up my alley -- I needed the most basic of the basics.

The first day in class I did what I do – I observed.

I sat in the middle of the room (not the front row or the back row - right in the middle) … and I listened, I observed. As that first week went on I realized – NOBODY – was asking questions.

Uh oh. I had questions – was I this far behind? Am I totally screwed? What is the last day to drop the class and get a full refund?

Finally – when the second week rolled around I decided – forget this. I paid for the units to take this class, I paid (way too much) for my text book … I’m going to get my money’s worth. I raised my hand. The teacher called on me.

I hate that feeling of having “all eyes” on me. But – what the heck … it was my turn to ask a question and I did. I started by apologizing for asking something "that probably everybody already knows” … and then …. I posed my question to the instructor. Phew - I survived! :-)

Do you know what? Instead of answering my question – the instructor turned to the rest of the class and said, "If anyone knows the answer to her question please -- speak up."

Nobody responded!

Now I’m sure SOMEBODY besides our instructor knew the right answer and they were just too humble or shy to speak up but … he was making a point for my benefit.

He said to me, “Never apologize for asking a question. There are no stupid questions AND what I’ve learned from my many years in teaching is that if one student asks a question there are usually several other students who have the same question but don't want to raise their hand.”

THAT was a good life lesson for me! An "aha" moment, if you will. And – after that day – others raised their hands. They asked questions that I had and he answered them for all of us. It was GREAT.

I think Thomas was the first person in the class who wasn’t afraid to raise his hand. The others were fortunate too. For the other guys Jesus gave them a break and answered the question before they had to ask … (He already knew they had doubts – otherwise … why would he have shown them his hands and side? Did he think the scars looked cool? I think not.)

Anywhooo - I don't think this journey has to be traveled 100% alone ... (in fact – the bible says, “Forsake not the assembling of yourselves together). But on this journey, since the path is narrow we should probably walk in single file for a while. HA

And there’s no talking yet – we are listening for the directions to the top of this mountain from God himself. Focus. No distractions. I think what I am already learning on this journey is that I have to be honest and openly address my questions, my doubts, my struggles with my "religion" and, again, the key will be listening to God. I'm not sure I've ever really known how to do that. I have collected my directional maps from others who, if truth be told, are probably just as lost as me at times but not willing to admit it for fear they will be "ostracized" and/or "judged" by fellow Christians.

To be continued ...

... of walking and Winnebago's - Part IV

So I have made my decision. I am moving forward up this mountain on my own. It's a narrow road, yes, but I have been told there are a few "turn outs" up further on the path. If I want there will be a point at which I can turn back but ... why would I choose to do that?

I hope I don't chicken out at any point along the way because I sincerely believe the ultimate destination will be well worth the journey.

All metaphors aside ~ this is the time in life that I want to find and intimately get to know ... GOD.

Who is God? Are Jesus and God truly one and the same? Is Jesus God's Son and ultimately the only way to get to Heaven after this life?

This is what I've always been taught. To believe otherwise is blasphemy - a denial of Jesus' diety. A ticket to the place "downstairs."

But this is the place where my rubber and road have hit. I have questions. I don't believe God is afraid of questions and I do believe God - and only God - has the answers I'm seeking. I can ask others, I can read books, I can sit in a pew. I can hear the opinions of people eager to introduce me to God as they know Him. And - I'm open to this.

However, I believe that ultimately, only God will be able to reveal Himself to me and when He does - I need to trust Him. First I need to trust that it is Him speaking to me and second - I need to take Him at His Word once I'm sure it's Him talking.

Given those two steps it will be key that I listen. I wrote a song once ~ actually it was more of a "chorus" ~ and the verses have always been difficult for me to complete. I'd play the music for you here but...ummm, haven't figured out how to make that feature work yet. We'll stick with the lyrics for now:

"In a Still Small Voice I heard you calling me.

In a Still Small Voice I heard you say,

"My child you're not alone I'm here to guide you

Do not search anymore I am right beside you

In a Still Small Voice You spoke my name."

That song was the beginning of my quest to find God ~ because I really don't think I came up with the lyrics on my own. I think that was a "God" thing. I figured it was time I got to know the Author of that chorus a bit better.

[The path is narrowing here. Do I want to take the turn-out ahead? No, I choose to continue moving forward ... ]

I was raised to believe that the Baptist church pretty much held the patent on how to find God. Other religions were either cults in disguise or poor, misguided, well meaning souls who had no clue of the real truth. (NOTE: Monday night and Saturday visitation was the Baptist way of setting them straight ... if you were lucky enough to get a word in before the door was slammed on your face.)

If one wanted to be a "real" Christian - there were certain rules (spoken and un-) that dictated spirituality and you were judged on the basis of how well you adhered to those rules. There were things such as outward appearance (hair, clothing, hygiene), habits (smoking, drinking), how you talked (profanity), the people/groups you associated with, whether or not your church attendance was "faithful" and consistent.

I can remember all too well the mood when somebody walked into "our church" on a Sunday morning that didn't quite 'measure up' to the spiritual standards. There was almost a 'gasp' if a woman walked in wearing jeans, or a guy walked in with long hair and/or a beard. It was all so discriminating and pious. Even as a kid I felt this. There was a single mother that began attending regularly when I was in 3rd or 4th grade. She would have been a welfare recipient I suppose and her kids were somewhat disheveled. The oldest daughter tried hard to fit in - to look pretty, to put on a little make-up, to clean up well. You could tell she "got" the criteria for fitting in here and as a young teen she really wanted to make the cut. The youngest - a red headed boy - was a bit more mischievous. He liked to move around, get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the service (ooops, you definitely lost points with that move!) but all in all he was just a "rambunctious boy" by today's standards. But the middle daughter? Wow - she was marked and labeled.

Earlene.

Poor Earlene. We "all" knew about Earlene. I can't even count the number of times that girl was in trouble, accused of whatever "crime" had been committed. (Somebody once smeared feces on a bathroom stall...the "guilty party" had to be Earlene.) I remember one time in 4th grade our teacher had us take a $100,000 Dollar Bar and set it on the desk and then we would go out to recess. When she returned she'd be alone in the room. Everybody was in on this little "experiment" - everybody that is, but Earlene - who had been summoned to the office ... (Coincidence? I think not!). The test was, "Will Earlene steal the candybar?" Everybody took a vote and the consensus was - yes, she most definitely would.

She didn't, by the way. (Shame on Mrs. Brown.)

I doubt Earlene was guilty of many of the things she was accused of doing. But I wonder if, after a while, she kind of "grew into" the person everybody said she was. I often wonder about Earlene. Was she responsible for that stall incident? That left such an impression on me. I looked at her as the possessed girl - the girl that Jesus couldn't "fix" - the girl that wasn't good enough for Jesus.

I was sure glad I wasn't Earlene.

Wow - she never even had a chance.

I've often thought about various people. People who were Mormons or Pentecostals. One was described as a "cult" and the other a possessed group of people who believed in speaking tongues which was of the devil, of course.

Sincere people. People who believed 'their' religion was right just as I believed 'my' religion was right. What made me right and them wrong? How come the Baptist's had the corner on the market??

The older I have grown the more I have questioned this. Is Jesus the only Way to God? I know, I know ... blasphemy. I am definitely not wanting to be blasphemous or deny Christ. I am sincerely questioning and ... I think that is okay. Jesus Himself told Thomas it was "okay" to question - to have doubts. He wasn't as "good" as those who didn't question but ... he was "okay" - he wasn't condemned for questioning and needing proof that Jesus was Who He said He was.

Those of you who aren't questioning? According to the Thomas story, you are blessed. But I'm still okay.

To be continued ...

... of walking and Winnebago's (Part III)

This time, when she breaks the silence to ask me once again, "Have you found a safe place?" she adds, "It doesn't have to be real you know. You can make up an imaginary location."


Hmmm - now THAT might really help! Finally I tell her yes - I have my place.


I imagine that I am sitting on a large patch of plush green grass under a tree. She asks, "What type of tree?" I'm thinking, "Does that really matter?" But I answer instead, "Ummm - a ... big tree? I don't know. I'm not all that familiar with my tree families." She asks, "Is it a big oak or a big fir type Christmas tree?" I think, "Does it matter?" :-) But I answer instead, "Ummm - yeah, it's a big oak."


Now mind you - at this point I am still supposed to have my eyes closed but I peek (shhh - don't tell). She writes something down on her steno pad and I wonder, "Hmph! Did I choose the wrong tree?" (ha)


Whatever. I think to myself, "These tree questions are messin' with my quiet space - can we move on? I only have 45 minutes remaining!" I say ... nothing.


She asks what sounds I hear ... do I hear anything at all? I tell her that yes, there is a large flowing stream in front so I hear soothing water flowing. She asks if I hear anything else? I say, "Maybe a bird or two?" She asks, "What type of bird?"


Oh brother - REALLY?

"The type that flies!" (Sorry, I don't know my bird families all that well either." ha)

She lets me slide.


She asks me if I see anything else around me? I hesitate. Finally I admit, "Ummm - the fence I put around the stream and the grass???!" She laughs. "This is imaginary, okay?" she says. "Okay," I say, "but the fence stands."


She obliges.


She asks what color the sky is ... I tell her blue. "All blue?" she inquires, "Any clouds?" I tell her no, it's a beautiful and clear blue sky - my idea of the perfect spring day. No clouds in sight.


She sounds pleased with my response(s). (Phew ~ at least I passed one! :-)


Now she asks my permission to add to my scenery.

Huh? What? I hesitate - then I give in. Okay - that's fine ~ just don't remove my fence. She has no plans to remove my fence. What she IS adding is a large, beautiful mountain.


At the top of this beautiful mountain is ... Almighty God. The One I have been searching for of late ... the One I am desperate to find and talk with ... the One I am longing to get to know on a personal level.


Not somebody else's God - my God.


She tells me that a Winnebago has just pulled up. I (typical smart ass that I am) ask, "Hey! How'd they get through my fence? It had a gate! The gate was locked. That's it - I'm getting a refund!"


She laughs and says, "They just get in - okay? I let them in - they are safe." Welllllllll - I hope they're good "Winnebago-ens" or I will place a stop payment on her check! ;-) She assures me ... they are well meaning.


Okay ~ they can intrude - whatever! (It's her check, not mine!)


Apparently, there are several people already IN this Winnebago. (No kidding! It holds hundreds - and she thinks MY imagination is wacky??! ha). All of the passengers are traveling to the top of the mountain ... to see the Almighty. Would I like to join them?


Would I like to see God?


Are you kidding me? OF COURSE I want to see God! I quickly gather up the few belongings I had with me under the "tree" - near that "water" - with the fence around it! :-) I grab my guitar (okay, I don't play but ... in my imagination I'm a great guitarist!), my water bottle and my red journal with its matching red pen. Everybody welcomes me into their Winnebago with open arms - I'm an immediate part of their ... "family." They are laughing, singing, talking, dancing. I am not that much of a social person so ...


I am watching, studying, evaluating. As I look around a bit more I notice something that strikes me as being a bit odd: All of the passengers in this Winnebago look the same. The women are all wearing the same style of dress, the men the same pants, shirts, ties. They all have similar hair styles, they listen to the same music, they speak the exact same language. I check the surroundings and note all of those "familiar" comforts of home - a fridge, a stove, a table, a booth, beds and bedding, pots and pans, glasses and silverware. And of course the all time favorite of those living in my hometown - there is AIR CONDITIONING in this Winnebago.

Ahhh - this looks nice - this seems easy ... this is ... dare I say ~ "fun!" I don't have to think about a thing - they've figured it all out for me ... and everything is all laid out: my clothing, my bedding, my music. Hmmm, this might even be ... comfortable?! There is mingling, chattering - a murmer amongst the group. They are talking about God ... but some of their conversations seem a little off to me. Where in the Bible does it say that?

I say nothing. Afterall, they are taking me to the top of the mountain for free. As long as I ride with them and go along with things - it's an easy trip, right? Wouldn't wanna' rock the boat (or the Winnebago!).


About an hour into our "trip" - the driver announces to all of us that the road is beginning to narrow, would we all please quiet down so he can concentrate? Immediately, everyone grows silent.


The Winnebago slows more ... eventually coming to a complete stop.


Our driver shuts off the engine and sits behind the wheel for a minute thinking and studying the road ahead. When he finally turns to everyone he announces, "I'm so sorry but ... this is as far as the Winnebago will take you. If you want to continue up to the top of the mountain, where God is, you will need to get out of this Winnebago and take that jeep on ahead."


It's not a jeep that will hold hundreds (like the "Wacky Winnebago"), but it will still hold several passengers. There's an air conditioner but - what's the point? There are no doors on this thing. There's no fridge, no stove, the radio doesn't work. It's dusty, dirty - you get the picture. Some of the Winnebago's amenities are obviously missing and while some of my former Winnebagen comrades have made their way into the jeep -- several others have decided to go no further. They call for someone to pick them up and take them back home.


The rest of us (I choose to stay) pile in and a brand new driver turns over the ignition. We're off ~ back toward the top of the mountain to meet the Almighty. I'm still excited. This ride isn't so bad - the jeep has 4 wheel drive and, though it's a little less comfortable, the bumps aren't too bad and the company is pretty sweet. Overall -- still a fairly comfortable ride.


Uh oh - what's this? Our jeep is slowing down! Same thing - same scenario - driver says the road is narrowing up ahead. Long story short - the jeep can travel no further. He offers a motorcycle (did he really just say a motorcycle??). He says, "You can journey on in groups of two or ... you can turn back now and call for transportation back home."


A few of us choose to continue on. This ride is going to get a bit more rugged. On this motorcycle there are no amenities. We're hitting several potholes now, the road is more narrow than ever before and .... woooo - this thing is bumpy. I just had a bug hit my face. We were allowed to keep our backpacks if we had them - but anything else had to be left behind.


And not too long after our motorcycle journey began -- you guessed it ... we had to stop. The path ahead was way too narrow for even just the motorcycle to continue on. If we wanted to continue we would have to get off and walk.


Alone.


(You know me and alone?)


Hmph. But there was only a single path ahead. Room for "one" on the remainder of the journey. Other's could make the journey but we could not travel together from this point on ~ it was one at a time. It was getting dark now - a little spooky. But the promise stood: At the top of the mountain we WOULD find God.


Did I still want to go - even if I had to go it alone? Even if nobody else agreed with the decision? Even if it was a little scary?


I had no difficulty making my decision: Even if I have to go it alone - even if everyone I knew disagreed with my decision - even if those I know and love are convinced this isn't right - it wouldn't be this difficult, you shouldn't do it ... stay with us - we'll find the Almighty another way.


No, I want to go.

I WILL make this journey to the top of the mountain.

I WILL find God.

To be continued ...

Things aren't always as they seem ...

I’m in bed one night. Can’t sleep.

I decide instead of laying in bed telling myself I should be sleeping … I’d get up and hope to grow tired.

I skimmed a post on the "buddyslim" site a while ago. Someone had written about diet pills. I was in a hurry to read more than one post so I didn’t read it line by line but what I read made so much sense.

This battle is so very personal. However, when a person feels they are “winning” the battle they are quick to offer advice ~ albeit unsolicited. They are quick to tell others what they have found to be “the answer” ~ and quick to rant on those things that, in their personal opinion, do not work.

We all feel like we’ve “mastered this weight loss battle once and for all” at one time in our lives or another. Few of us can claim this is our first go-round in the diet ring ~ at least few of us in our 40’s can make this claim. (Okay, at least “I” cannot make this claim.) But I also know that I have given advice to other’s when I feel like I have it all figured out. It’s usually with the best of intentions but that doesn’t make it right and certainly doesn’t guarantee to help their situation.

Experience and time … those are the best teacher’s and we all have to learn what works for us through our own experience and with the passage of time. Weight loss is more of a “Montesorri” kind of learning process ~ you have to figure it out at your own pace … it’s definitely not a “one size fits all” (which is kind of funny since the “once size fits all” clothing is usually FOR fat people).

Hmph - just sitting here adding things up I came to the realization that I have been dieting off and on now for over 30 years. Seriously? Thirty two years?? Unbelievable … but true.

I noticed my weight going up for the first time in the fall of 1977 - prior to this I don’t remember giving it too much thought. I do remember my brother telling me once that my name meant "cow” in Greek once when he was irritated with me about something. He liked to tease and did have a way of making me feel rather hefferish … but I didn’t see myself as being fat (and I wasn’t fat then) so I pretty much let his comment roll off my back. Fast forward though - to the Spring of 1977.

I had a crazy crush on a good looking 16 yr. old who had not only an incredible voice - but the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen. We met at a Christian Camp and I was smitten. Completely smitten. That was in April 1977 and after that "Easter Camp" we came back home, “dated” until the day before my 14th birthday in July.

When he broke up with me over the phone the night before I was to turn fourteen, I was simply heartbroken. He was a popular guy and I was the girl who had recently had braces put on (complete with head and neck gears - ha), the girl whose parents wouldn’t allow her to see the movies he wanted to see. He was the 16 yr. old casenova with a driver’s license and lots of friends. The movie “Rocky” was the big hit that spring ~ he wanted to take me to go see it - I was too "little" .... Looking back I can see I was cramping his style. But at fourteen years of age I didn’t see it this way.

On the morning of my fourteenth birthday I certainly felt like my world falling apart. I felt a pain and loss that I had never felt before. I was probably "grieving" … but I was just a “kid” and puppy love wasn’t taken too seriously by adults.

Looking back now I see that time during the summer and on into the many months ahead was the first time I remember eating.

I continued eating. And eating. I didn’t realize it then but I guess it numbed the hurt I felt in my heart. I was embarrassed and didn’t have the type of relationship with my parents that allowed for open communication about these types of things. I had a great friend who tried to help but I was too proud to share how much I was really hurting. So — I turned to food at the age of fourteen - July 15, 1977.

Here I am, exactly thirty two years later, still using food inappropriately. Wow! Really? I have seriously been struggling with my weight for thirty two years??

Yep - it’s true. That’s wayyy too long, isn’t it? It’s time I figure this out and move forward.

Back in 1977, in just a few months time, I had gained 30 pounds. (I only know this because of a doctor's visit for something totally unrelated.) My “normal” clothing didn’t fit anymore. I felt shy and unattractive (the head/neck gear certainly didn't help! ha).

The following year I would start at a new school, feeling awkward, frumpy and self-conscious. Every day during lunch "recess" at the new school I would go to the snack bar, buy a bag of M&M’s and a package of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, go and sit by myself alone and read a book. Every day!

The "Grace Livingston Hill" series. Wow - I'm not sure I ever actually read one of those books (ha). But I do remember going to the school library often and checking out a book so I could at least look like I was busying myself and didn’t mind eating alone.

But I did mind.

In my previous school I had been voted Class President and was the head cheerleader. (I'm embarrassed to admit that I was pretty cocky and had an inflated sense of self so I could've stood being taken down a couple notches.)

Now? At the new school? I was a nobody. I was the "chunky" new kid - with the headgear! (Okay, maybe the headgear was never mentioned but ... ha). I was the "unpopular" girl. This was new to me. I had always been a part of the “in” crowd. At this new school I was definitely an unpopular outsider. I was really depressed. "They" had no idea who I was (told ya I was cocky!). It stung.

Fast forward to the end of 11th grade. During the summer between my Junior and Senior years I got some type of flu bug and lost my appetite for a week or so. At the end of that week I decided to check the scale that my mom used in the bathroom. It was down from that doctor's visit. I figured, “Hey - this is pretty great - maybe I’ll just keep “not” eating. So I didn’t eat. My parents both worked so nobody paid much attention to what I didn’t eat. Long story short - I quit eating and started exercising. I don’t know how I came to figure out that this was a powerful method of weight loss … but when I exercised I lost MORE weight so … I exercised MORE. When I exercised MORE and ate LESS - I lost weight faster. A lot faster.

By the end of the summer I was down over 35 pounds. I was weak but I didn’t care. I looked great by the summer's end when I had my Senior Portrait taken. One of my classmates that I hadn't seen for 3 mos. made a big deal of how "good" I looked - how ... what? Did she just say skinny? To describe ME? Wow - this really WAS working!

I continued this non-eating lifestyle for an entire year - during which time I stopped having periods. One doctor mentioned the word “anorexia” to my parents - even back then - but it didn’t mean much of anything and I convinced my parents I was fine — never felt better. And in many ways I hadn’t felt better. Boys in school were paying a little more attention to me (well, I still had to ask somebody to take me to the prom ...) but I was definitely gaining some confidence back. Who cared if I felt hungry - the pay off seemed worth it.

Two days after my high school graduation I visited my brother’s church. I was looking for a college age group that was a little less conservative than the church my parents attended. That Sunday - again TWO DAYS after high school graduation, I met a guy. He was cute. He had a great voice. I kind of had my first “crush” since Jr. High. I asked my sister-in-law to introduce us and she did. Smitten. Hmmm - that was odd. I hadn’t felt that way for many years. A few weeks later another guy from church asked me out.

Huh? What? Seriously?

The next day the guy at the copy place asked me out. This was nuts? I didn't realize that life began AFTER high school graduation! ha I lost weight and now I was getting more attention. I liked that.

I chose the church guy -- the cute blonde with the cute mustache and the great voice. The cute guy with the sense of humor ~ albeit a little quirky. The cute guy whose brother was the pastor of the church. Yep - that guy.

So a few weeks later this same cute blond guy comes over to my house on “visitation” (that’s the church-y term used when you solicit people to come to your church! ha). I could tell he thought I was cute, too.

Another “long story short” - we started dating. That summer we went with his youth group (he was their 20 yr. old youth director and I had just turned 18 yrs.) to Great America. This is where I remember eating “normally” again for the first time in more than a year. I ate that day and got sooo sick. But - I had food back in my life. I didn’t gain too much because I still exercised excessively and we went and did so many things activity wise that I postponed some of the gain. But - during our dating period there were things that happened that caused me disappointment and I started to eat ... again.

I realize now that I had a lot of difficulty expressing my feelings in a healthy manner. I either kept them to myself or I let things simmer and then I'd let it all out. What I did consistently was ... I ate.

I ate to deal with my feelings. At one point about 3 yrs. into our relationship - prior to our marriage - I had gone from the 105 pounds I weighed when we first met to a "whopping" 125 pounds (probably a perfect weight for my 5′3″ frame now that I look back on it). I was attending college in a town close by the cute blonde guy. He was youth director at a new church about 45 minutes away from my college dorm. I visited the cute blonde guy often. He lived in a house that he rented with a couple of old family friends.

One night I was over at his place and I came out of the bathroom and he wasn't in the living room any more. Nobody else was home so I called out his name. He answered me from the kitchen.

I went to the kitchen and found him sitting at the little round table. He had his bible opened and was reading it. I asked him if everything was alright and he shook his head slowly back and forth - indicating that no, it was not. He told me that he was not happy with my legs and admitted that he was searching the scriptures to find some "validation" from God that it was okay that he didn't like the way I looked.

[NOTE:  Amazingly enough - he didn't find a scripture. Hmmm - imagine that?!]

But he told me that "in all honesty" he thought my legs were too fat and he wasn’t attracted to them but ~ he was "working" on this. I believe his exact words were, 'I'm praying about it.'

?

Okay.

Apparently, he had searched in vain for the affirmation from God that it was okay to want me to have better looking legs ... for him. For whatever reason - I hugged him and said I was sorry. I told him I appreciated his honesty.

Yep. I apologized to him. For my appearance, for my fat legs, for the fact that he wasn't attracted to me. I told him I would change and then I repeated that I was sorry about the way I looked.

I left his place shortly thereafter and drove back to my dorm. I was angry at him but I was more angry with myself.

Why was I "so fat" ...?

We married about a year later. Why? Well, I had always dreamed of becoming a wife and mom and I thought if I passed up this chance maybe another wouldn’t come along. (Ugh - sooo naive ~ I should've moved back near my hometown and looked up that copy place guy. He was a blonde and ... he was kinda' cute too!! ha)

But there are no do-overs, are there?

So there we were - married. I constantly believed he had a wandering eye … always looking for that replacement with the "good" legs that he desired -- and obviously they weren't on my body.  I never had a sense of security while with him -- this started during our dating years and continued on into our marriage.  He pastored little churches and we played church well. But I hated my life with him. I loved my children but grew to despise my husband. I had the mother-in-law from hell and wanted out sooo bad.

I stopped eating again about two years after our last child was born. I lost weight quickly and started receiving a lot of attention from men. It felt good to feel attractive again. I signed on to the internet and started talking to people in chat rooms. Innocently enough at first but couple this with a weight loss medication I was taking (Meredia - STAY AWAY FROM IT - it messes with your head and my counselor confirmed this ... she said she had other clients who reported behaving in ways uncharacteristic of themselves while on this pill -- BAD STUFF!) ... but I ended up looking for attention from a few guys online ... and cheated with two.  My ex chose porn, I chose chat.

And surprise ... we ended up divorced. Such a waste.  Probably with GOOD counseling and REAL commitment on both parts that cute little couple that pastored the cute little church, with that cute little family - coulda made it.  But we didn't.   My fault?  His fault?  Both our faults but - I hold myself to blame and always will.

Everything was screwed up. I started eating again.

That's the condensed version.

I haven’t stopped eating. I went from a low of 105 pounds at one point in my life to my current 218 pounds. I have gained even more just in the last week.

Food is my comfort. Being fat is my “safety”. When you’re fat - guys don’t pay attention to you. There’s not the threat of physical harm because ... you aren’t attractive. You aren’t tempted to cheat because nobody knows you exist - you can just hide in the pack.

These are things I am learning as I am journaling. I really AM a faithful person … but I have kicked myself so many times for my mistakes in my first marriage (not only for the infidelity but for marrying the cute blond with the mustache who didn't like my legs, who didn't protect our children, who chose his mother over me 10 times out of 10) … but there were so many kicks to my own self that are self-inflicted that the bruises run deep and they linger.

At some point I need to forgive myself and let it go. The past is the past. The future is what I make it. I just don’t stop long enough to decide what I want to make it.

"Life is not about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."

I have a good marriage now (the one I wish I would’ve had the first time around), I have three great kids, I have a decent job, I have a beautiful home. I should be healthy and happy and making the most of every day. Instead, I am battling my weight on a daily basis and I think I have really damaged my metabolism with the myriads of diets I have tried. You name it - I’ve been on it through the years: Jenny Craig, Nutri-System, Medi-Fast, Slim Fast, Weight Watcher’s. But starvation always worked the fastest and that was always my fall back.

Well, I don’t want to fall back any longer. I want to get this right. I want to make this permanent. I am seeing a counselor to work through some of these feelings but I don’t think I really have expressed them until just tonight (morning?). I do a good job appearing strong to the therapist because it is shameful to admit my mistakes of the past. But, in the words of dear ol’ Dr. Phil, “You cannot change what you don’t acknowledge.”

So there you have it. Me at 46 years of age. Acknowledging and getting closer all the time to ... change.

That is a good thing. I’m still not sleepy but I definitely feel better.

And, as always ... I’ll keep you posted …

... of walking and Winnebago's (Part II)

She told me to try to relax, close my eyes, and picture myself in a 'safe' place ... a place where I could let the cares of the world fall by the way. A place where I could think clearly. My eyes were closed. I tried to find "that" place.

The silence was broken when she asked, "Did you find a safe place?"

I said nothing. I was thinking.


Exactly WHAT I was thinking at that moment was, "I hope she realizes I'm not planning on being - nor will I allow myself to be - hypnotized."


But this wasn't about hynosis. It was simply about trying to set aside the cares and concerns of the day and concentrate. Focus. Relax.


Okay, I can do that. And honestly - who wouldn't want an opportunity to relax, to focus, to set aside any/all concerns of the day?

I closed my eyes a little tighter. My very next thought - to be specific - was, "I honestly don't think I can find a place where I feel safe. Where I can relax."

Hmm - I'm starting to wonder ... does this exercise come easier for other people?


I felt a little bad - the sick feeling that I was going to let her down, that maybe this was going to be a waste of her time. [Then again - she was being paid for this ... it wasn't a total waste.] But shoot. I was sincerely trying to find that "safe" place and it was eluding me.


She breaks the silence once again, "Have you found that place?" I want to crack a joke and say, 'Damn - I was almost there ... now I have to start over!" ha But I don't say anything. I know she's waiting on me but I don't respond. Although I have my eyes closed (hey, I do as I'm told) I can still tell in that deafening silence ... she's waiting. For my answer.

I don't have an answer yet. Hurry up! Hurry up! Come on!


It's a simple question: "Have you found a place that you can go where you feel 100% safe?"


Honestly? No. What can I say? No.

*****************************

When I was little I felt safe. In my neighborhood, in my backyard, in my home. Up until that bike ride down to the end of my street to hand out a 'revival invitation' I had felt "safe".

But on that day I jumped on my bike and rode down to the end of our block where my two friends, 'Bambi' and 'Trixie' (no, seriously!) lived. I was going to invite them to my church because we had a contest going on. Whoever invited the most people would win tickets to a concert I was dying to go to. I wanted to win.



Up until that day? Yes, I had felt safe in my neighborhood. I walked to and from school, I played outside, I went to the homes of my friends ... it was the old, "Go out in the morning - come back after the sun goes down." My friends and I used to play "red light/green light" - "statues" - "tag" - "hide and go seek." I hadn't a care in the world. And back then - yes, I felt "safe".


Then - I took that bike ride. It was the middle of the afternoon. I had grabbed a flyer and set out on my cool purple bike ... the one with the banana seat and white wicker basket that had three oversized plastic flowers on it.

It didn't take long to get to reach my destination. A house toward the very end of the block. I had made this ride many times prior to that day and, as always, I parked my bike at the base of their driveway and walked up to the porch.

I knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked one more time. Still - no answer.

About this time I look back toward my bike and notice a white van. It had slowed down and was still moving forward but - a guy was looking out the window at me. I can't describe his face to you - but I remember at the time feeling weird. He looked ... evil. That is the only way I can say it. How I can give that description when I can't for the life of me describe anything else about his looks - I don't know. But his was the face of evil.


He wasn't the one driving the van - he was a passenger in the front seat. All of the sudden the van stopped. This white van began backing up. I began to knock on my friend's front door a little faster. A little harder. I thought to myself, "Please open the door. I'm scared."


I was 7 years old.


I can still hear the sinister laugh of this passenger as he exited the van. This guy was staring at me and smirking. Everything is now being played back in slow motion. The door opens. He steps out. The smirking continues. I'm thinking, "That man is gonna' take my bike!" I didn't say shit then - but I think if I had known the word ... that's what I would have verbalized.


But I was too innocent to even know that word. Or really - to know about "bad guys". But I remember feeling bad because he was going to take my bike.


And then? He walked right past my bike!


Uh oh.

I don't know when I realized ... he didn't care about my purple bike with the pretty white basket and the banana seat with matching flowers. He was walking straight at me.


I began knocking with a stronger sense of urgency - harder, faster. "Oh God! Please open! Please open the door!" There was no answer.

About this time I notice the bushes by the porch and I was thinking I could jump in the bushes before he reaches the porch. I can hide.

I don't think I ever jumped in the bushes.

Honestly, I don't know what I did. I don't know what happened after that.

I'm so sorry I can't finish my story better. I can only tell you - it wasn't a dream and it really happened but ... I am unable to remember anything else.

Except that ... that ride down to my friends' house was the last time I ever felt ... "safe".

... of Walking and Winnebago's (Part I)

(DISCLAIMER: Just remember, 'PBP: GIFWMY!' For those of you who do not recognize that acronym/bumper sticker from days gone by: Please Be Patient ... God Isn't Finished With Me Yet.')


Some would call it a crisis of belief.
Some would call it a quest for truth.


I'm not exactly sure just yet what "I" am calling "it" - but whatever "it" is - "it" has been serving as the catalyst for me to do some serious, straightforward, scrupulous, sincere: "soul" searching. Quick rewind: I was raised in a nice home, a typical 60's style/fairly strict/conservative environment (by that I simply mean that dad worked to provide for his family, mom stayed home manning the forts, raising the kids, bandaging the 'boo-boo's, etc.). Overall, I would characterize my parents as being very wise, loving, fair and reasonable (not to mention blessed by God with three incredible kids! ha). My religious background, on the other hand ... mmmm - not so much a "blessing" (in hindsight).

I have struggled with several of the beliefs and rules handed down from the pulpit ~ but to "break away" from the pack so to speak - is unheard of. If you don't "believe" the same way as others you are labeled a "backslider" - one of those who have fallen by the wayside - like that seed ... in that parable ...).

Case in point: I'll never forget the time I showed up for a Wednesday night bible study in my Senior year of high school. You weren't supposed to wear "pants" to church (actually, it was preferred women not wear pants at all but ... I digress). I got off work a little late - it was out of my control (ahhh - my first job at good ol' Sprouse Reitz) and I wanted to go to church because our youth group was dwindling and there were a few of us "die-harders" that wanted to keep the thing goin'. My only option was to go straight to church - not go home first to change. I had on "dittos" - do you remember those? They were pants that I wore under my work smock and the pants had cute little stitching from one bottom of the pant leg all the way up around the butt and then back down the other leg. They weren't too "tight" - they were cute ... and what's more ... they "fit" ... back then. :-) Yes, those were the "good ol' days!" ha

But - I digress ~ again! ;-) I had been attending the same church for the full 18 yrs. of my life at that point ... I was on their nursery list and still had a little plaque I received for "perfect attendance" when I was in the elementary Sunday School Dept. My dad directed the music and ... we were there ... faithfully - Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, Wednesday evenings and the occasional 5th Sunday Singspiration (if I never see another slide of the holy land it will be too soon!).However, after wearing dittos that fateful Wednesday evening - I was taken off the membership roster and instructed not to return in "those pants" again. Wow - really? I busted my "ditto jeaned" ass over from work as fast as I possibly could to GET to youth group in time and ... WHAT? Really? I must've misunderstood. But nope, this was no joke.

Hmph. Suffice it to say -- shortly after that I remember having a heart to heart with my parents and letting them know that - following my graduation from high school - I was planning on looking for a new church. They gave me their blessing - 100%. Looking back - it's a GOOD thing they did because I would've been just as content at that point to never set foot in a church again.

But - I did go church shopping and I found the "little less conservative than Independent Fundamental Baptist Church" in Hayward. Both of my brother's and my one sister-in-law attended this one - it was "Southern Baptist." I didn't have much experience with Southern Baptist's - except to know that, by the Conservative Independent Fundamental standards, it was considered liberal (which is about as laughable as the IFB church saying the "Gaither's" were rockers!).

Okay, so up to the point in my first marriage that I had a major falling out with both my first husband and my God - I would characterize myself as being a "good" Christian - by church standards mind you.I went to church, I followed the rules, I didn't smoke, didn't drink, didn't do drugs, wasn't promiscuous, didn't chew or hang out with others that do (ha), and I was part of the "in" group as religious circles go.

Then - my marriage started to unravel.

[If you asked my ex ... he would probably say that "I" pulled the first string in the unraveling. If you asked me ... I would probably say that "he" pulled the first string in the unraveling. But ... we all know there are three sides to every story in a marriage: His, Hers, and the Truth ~ which lies somewhere in between - jumbled and confused over many months and years. Honestly, I don't know how/when the unraveling began ... but it did. Both of us should've made better choices ~ but I can only speak for myself. I definitely could've made better choices (but he could've too ... ha). At any rate - we divorced ~ and yes, that is definitely the "condensed" version but since it's not the main part of my story here it will have to suffice ...] ~

I had no desire whatsoever to ever set foot in a church building again.  I knew how the "church game" was played. I knew those Sunday mornings when everything went wrong at home but we had to get in the car and look "perfect for the pew sitters." I'd say, "Oooh goody - we get to play church again." After that marriage dissolved - seriously - I didn't trust anybody religious - whether they were standing behind the pulpit or knocking on my door with a cute little tract entitled, "Missing Heaven by 11 inches" (or was it 13"? hmmm - guess I should've opened the tract - ha)... but I had absolutely no use for the whole thing.I didn't have much use for God either. Church and God were one and the same for me. That whole "ask and ye shall receive" / "pray without ceasing" thing? Nope, wasn't working. I started to think the "whole thing" was a sham - a lie that I'd bought into - a 'cultish' kind of teaching of who God was that was drilled into my head wayyy back in that little Sunday School on Lewelling Blvd., long before I had a mind to think for myself.

What is Truth?

I know, I know. I know the "right" answer.

Of course -- Jesus is the Truth. And the Way. And the Life.

Hey, just throw a bible trivia question my way and, most likely, I can answer it for you within 5 sec. And yes, I have a pretty fair amount of biblical knowledge - acquired from not only that Sunday School upbringing but from my private school education, and from listening to several sermons being practiced at home before being preached on a Sunday. I may have difficulty giving you the correct "bible address" at first but ... I've done time "drawing my sword!" ;-) I also know a bazillion bible verses by heart ... committed to memory in case I ever "needed them due to religious persecution should we ever be imprisoned like Paul for our beliefs in the future." (Yes, really.)Now, I know it can't hurt to have bible verses committed to memory ~ I'm not saying THAT. But the one verse I heard repeatedly - over and over and over and over and ... (you get the point) was that famous verse found in I Thessalonians, chapter 5, verse 22: "Abstain from all appearance of evil." I had a math teacher in 9th grade quote this verse to me when he was informing me that he would no longer be available to be my tutor. Apparently, a deacon had noticed me exiting his classroom after school later than the other students one day and told this teacher that "... it didn't look 'right' for a male teacher to be tutoring a female student." (Yeah? Well -- I got my first and only 'D' that semester by the way - thanks a lot, buddy!)

Abstain from all appearance of evil.

That means avoiding theatres, watching who you associate with at all times, crossing a street if you happen upon a liquor store so that you won't become a "stumbling block" for a non-believer who doesn't realize you're actually planning to walk PAST the liquor store to your place of employment a few feet further up that walk. I guess these non-believers might mistakingly assume you were going in for a beer because ... ummmm - they are watching your every move to call you out lest you slip up?? Huh? Reality TV wasn't even invented yet but apparently the Christian Cameras were rolling ...

Looking back over the past 46 years I have lived on this earth, I notice that I have spent many a year in a kind of "look over your shoulder" stance. If you're always looking back over your shoulder how can you possibly have a clear and accurate view as to what's coming ahead?I have felt like I've had a video camera surveilling me (not literally) for 46 years and have tried to follow "the rules" (save my 6-12 mos. of stupidity when my first marriage was ending during which time I could've cared less what the hell I did and/or who the hell knew I did it).

But up to that point I constantly worried that I would be "put away on a shelf" - which is what a youth pastor said would happen if you screwed up one too many times. God would be merciful "to a point" but after some unknown limit was surpassed He would put you on the shelf and you'd be of no further earthly use to Him. You wouldn't get a countdown to let you know you're getting close to the shelf detention - nobody was in the background calling out that you were getting 'warmer' - 'colder' - 'hotter' -- you were in this maze alone and it would just "happen" one day. Oops - sorry. You lose.

Oh yes, you'd still make it to Heaven (by the skin of your teeth) but you'd be assigned a back seat. Your "banquet table" would be bread/water while others feasted on God's finest. And jewels on the crown? Ha - sorry dude - ain't gonna' happen. Hmph. I knew I had purchased the proper "Fire Insurance" but was I going to get my monies worth for the policy when pay out time arrived? THAT was the question.

To Be Continued ...

Here Am I ... Where Are You?

A new quest ... to find God. I know He hasn't moved so that must mean ...

Keep On Keepin' On

Here’s the “skinny” (bah ha ha) on me today:

I was supposed to be down 2 pounds by tomorrow. Instead - I am up 4 pounds today. Hmph.

I have, in the past, kind of “prided myself” on being somewhat of a quippy writer … (always trying to come up with some nifty little title that is a play on words as a prelude to what the featured post will hold for the day).

Today? Not feeling so quippy. Not feeling so witty. Just feeling a little down.

I find myself wondering … WHY in the world can’t I ‘lick’ (bah ha ha) this … this … whatever it is. This … preoccupation with and addiction to food? This … obsession - constant obsession - over my weight, my appearance ~ even if/when I have reached a weight loss goal in the past … I can’t relax and enjoy it. This … day in/day out struggle with “sticking to” whatever it is I’m committing to accomplish diet wise in that moment.

I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs.

What I DO do is … I eat. And I overeat. I use food. And I abuse food. If/when I feel down … all I want to do is eat to feel better. And of course, once I eat - I do feel better. For just a “minute” … and then … well, you know the feeling after the good feeling passes. It’s that lousy “I blew it” feeling. Hmmm - I guess perhaps this is the equivalent of an addiction because it’s winning and it’s killing me emotionally in the process. Probably physically, too.

Geeeze!

I wake up every morning telling myself, “Today I am going to stick to … [fill in the blank with whatever my latest weight loss method is].” I do okay through a “breakfast” shake but come 10 am or 11 am, my resolve gets pushed aside. I just figure I’ll, “stick with it another day … right now I just need to eat.”

Then … I go to bed every evening telling myself, “Tomorrow I will do better ~ I will … [once again filling in the blank with whatever my latest weight loss method is].”
I used to be someone who was so determined, so self-disciplined … and now I have a hard time setting a goal or writing down a commitment to myself in a journal because I have let myself down so many times my ‘words’ are becoming less meaningful to even me.

Does that make any sense whatsoever?

I wouldn’t disrespect my family or my employer this much. I don’t think I would let anybody down to the extent I let myself down. What the heck??

Anyway - here I sit - disappointed in ‘moi’ - physically uncomfortable, heavier than I have ever been in my life (the only exception was during pregnancy) … and since my youngest “baby” is now 14 yrs., I can’t exactly blame this on baby weight now, can I?

The best I/we can do is keep moving forward and never give up. I’ve heard that we only fail when we stop trying and that I won’t do.

Thanks to those of you that have joined my blog and are runners in this race with me. I’m not sure how to maneuver my way through the blog-o-sphere so if I don’t respond to you it’s nothing personal … give me time and I’ll figure this forum out.

Happy “almost” Friday ~

Take a Bow

"The King of Pop" must now bow his knee to the King of Kings."

I loved that line ... it speaks volumes to the brevity of life. It's not all about losing weight, is it?

Everything Old is New Again

New beginnings are SOOO great!

When I came home from Hawaii and stepped on the scale I was shocked to read the numbers 225 in between my two feet. What? How could that possibly be true?

Well - not only could it BE true - it WAS true. I came back to reality after that trip and worked out my 2 pounds per week weight loss graph that I wrote about last week.

This morning I weighed in and I was 212.5 and I realize this is all a matter of perspective ... that number is not close to my goal weight but ... it's down a considerable amount since we returned home on June 13! :-) I was pleased with the accomplishment - at least I took off what was gained on vacation and that's a start. At the very least, we MUST celebrate the accomplishments and give ourselves a pat on the back every once in a while!

I have exactly 87.5 pounds to lose if I want to achieve my goal of 125 pounds. Losing 2 pounds per week, I will reach my goal by May of 2010. If I step up the movement and pay close attention to planning meals, etc., maybe I could speed up the process a bit. I'm really not into quick fixes anymore though. I want to do what works, take my time, learn about nutrition and metabolism and make this a life change.

It's exciting to look at the calendar and see a new day each morning. Clean slate - fresh beginning!

I heard a comedian state that he hadn't had a bad day since the doc slapped him on the ass. I LOVED that one. I think that's my new mantra for a while! :-)

Make this day YOUR best! I know that's what I'm shooting for because we'll never have it back, you know?! :-)

"It Takes Two Baby"

It's been a while since I've posted but ... our trip to Hawaii was nothing short of ... AWESOME!

That was the first "alone" vacation my hubby and I had taken since we married in 2001 ... and we talked about the kids everyday we were over there (he's their stepdad and has taken them on as his own ... and he ROCKS!) ;-) I am SOOOO lucky!

Anywhoooo - we had a blast ... and he wanted to take photos everywhere we went. I am allergic to pictures and usually refuse to allow myself to be photographed but -- I caved this time. I now have a file at home entitled "BEFORE" and in there I have any/all pics Chuck took of me in Hawaii! ;-) Now - I just need to work on the "AFTER" pics! :-)

Along those lines -- in between posts I've been doing some research. I've read some articles, read some books, researched online, e-mailed those I know who have successfully lost weight (and kept it off which is KEY!) - and I have come to a conclusion that we all already knew ...

There is no trick to losing weight quickly. How I wish it were so. But alas - it is a simple equation: Eating Less + Moving More, = Weight Loss.

You don't have to "starve" to lose weight. You do have to cut back and take in fewer calories than you expend in order to achieve weight loss.

We already know all of this, don't we? We've heard it at a Weight Watcher's meeting, we've read it in a book or magazine, we've seen it on those "Success" episodes on Oprah or Dr. Phil or The Biggest Loser, our Jenny Craig counselor told us, yada yada yada!

You cannot achieve healthy, permanent weight loss without moving more and eating better. Plain and simple.

I am at a point where I am willing to eat less, eat healthier, move more and change my self-talk ... all key elements in achieving a healthier body. I am content to lose 2 pounds a week to achieve weight loss.

The time WILL pass ...

So I mapped out a "2 pounds per week" calendar and I will be at my personal goal weight of 125 pounds in a little over a year. That's not quick weight loss - on the contrary ... it sounds incredibly slow to me. But - I need to take the time to work out, modify my eating habits and change my lifestyle.

Anything worth having is worth working ... and waiting ... for.

Here's to new beginnings and never giving up! ;-)

I'll keep you posted!