go back to the start

I feel stuck.

It's not by choice, either. Rather, it feels like someone took my tennis shoes one night and filled them with wet concrete. Then, they somehow slipped the shoes back on my feet and crept out of the room. The next morning I couldn't move. And I haven't been able to move since.

I can't pinpoint when it hapenned either. There is no one spot to place the blame. There is nothing I can look back on and say that's where it all started to get really really hard.

I've mentioned how hard this journey has become. There's a wall I have hit. I am tired of the frozen dinners I bring for lunch. I am over the amount of water I am drinking. I am somewhat bored with my workout routines. And I am wondering if this journey to lose 100 pounds is even worth it.

I can look back on the past three months and see the changes I've made. It's evident in the way I feel, how much easier it is to do little things (like tie my shoes or get out of my low-to-the-ground car). And I see it in my clothes. How much shirts are a little baggier and how there are dresses I can wear again - dresses I haven't worn in almost a year.

But to take that evidence and apply it to everything else? I'm not quite sure how to do that.

I haven't completely lost my drive. I'm still working out. Though recently, it has only been 5 or 6 times a week instead of 8 or 10 times a week. I'm still watching what I eat and documenting (almost) everything on Lose It!. Though recently, my choices have not been the best, and hamburgers (and fries) sound so much better than salmon, tilapia, and baked potatoes.

And the weight is still slowly coming off. Painstakingly slowly. I want to say it has most to do with my choices. But I don't know if it does. Because I've worked hard this summer. Harder than I've ever worked before. And while it has paid off in the ways listed above, it hasn't paid off in the way of a diminishing number on the scale.

I tell people all the time not to focus on the scale. I even remind myself of it. But the scale means something to me. It means a whole new wardrobe and a new me.

Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I am putting my identity into the number on the scale. Maybe I am losing sight of the reason I started this whole journey. Maybe I am too focused on the end results I want and not focused enough on the steps I need to take to get that end result.

Maybe I'm overthinking all of it.

There is so much more that goes into a journey like this than just counting calories, breaking a sweat at the gym, limiting my diet coke intake, and drinking liters of water a day. Those things are important, but more important than those is to understand the reasons a journey like this is necessary and to take the time to put yourself first and overcome the internal obstacles you need to overcome.

And so, while my calorie intake has been higher and my calories burned lower, I have taken the past few weeks to care for myself in other ways. Getting some much needed healing. Backing out of some commitments that were not where I needed to be at this moment. Letting people in. Slowly asking for help when it is warranted.

Those are hard things for me to do. So much harder than I can even begin to describe here. But they are necessary things. And, of cource, the most necessary things are also the hardest things.

This journey is also, I think, teaching me how to slow down. Because I want so badly to jump ahead and be at the end of the journey. I don't want to be less than a pound away from having lost 20 pounds. I want to be at the moment when I have lost 100 pounds and am in dire need of a new wardrobe.

That's how I have always been. I've always looked forward to the next stage in my life. The next big thing. I'm so rarely happy and content with the current stage. Even back to when I was 5-years-old and playing with Barbies. All I really wanted was to be a teenager going to high school (and living a life exactly like Kelly Kapowski). And so often, I was disappointed when I finally hit the long awaited moment and discovered that high school in Texas is nothing like Saved By The Bell.

So I am trying to learn how to slow down, how to say no, how to put myself first, how to have grace with myself, how to enjoy my life, how to not only look to the future, and how to eat right and exercise.

It's a journey with no real map. But it is a journey that, as hard as it might be, I will not give up on.

And one day, hopefully soon, my shoes will no longer be filled with concrete, and I will no longer be stuck.

(title from "my broken heart" by noah and the whale)


for all these epiphanies

I want to be content in my life. In every aspect of my life. My job, finances, our house, my marriage, my friendships. This is something I have prayed for and sought after the past few months. Sometimes whole-heartedly but usually as a means to an end.

If I can be content with where I am, then maybe I will no longer have to be where I am. Maybe I can finally move forward.

Contentment is becoming harder to come by. It seems the more I think about it and the more I pray for it the less I have it.

My thought has been that maybe I'm not supposed to be content. That maybe I am supposed to be discontent until I find where the place I am meant to be. And so I have searched for lots of things that I thought might bring me contentment. All of the searching has done, though, is lead me back to where I started.

I mentioned this to a friend a few nights back. I touched on how frustrated I was and wondered on why I was struggling so much with being content. I even went so far as to ask if she thought my discontentment was because I wasn't supposed to be content where I was. Her response was simple, but it caused me to think on my life in that moment and has continued to make its way into the forefront of my mind since our conversation.

Maybe it's a test. Like when you ask for patience and all of a sudden everything tests every ounce of patience you have. Maybe the same can and should be said for being contentment.

I wanted to brush the notion aside and hold tightly to the thought that I was not meant to be content with where I am. But then I remembered how exhausting it is to focus on everything except for the present. And how it is so easy to miss all the good and wonderful things when concentrating on what comes next instead of on what is in front of you.

There are some things I should be discontent with. There are things I need to work through and past. Those are things like my weight and my eating habits. I should strive for better. I should seek to leave my current state and enter a healthier one.

But there are other things, more numerous things, that I need to be content with. These are the things like money, jobs, and our home.

During my lunch break, I spent time in the pool. I half-hazardly participated in aqua zumba. My muscles were sore from Monday's two workouts, and I was exhausted from a somewhat restless night's sleep. Instead of focusing on how high I kicked my legs or how closely I mimicked the dance moves, I concentrated on conversation with the others in the pool.
picture found here.
We touched briefly on jobs and more deeply on marriages. A woman ten years older than me told me that one day I would look back on my current life. She said I would laugh and wonder how I was ever that stupid or silly. She said my husband and I would reminisce on the decisions we made and ask how we ever ended up where we did. She said she knew this from experience.

It made me realize that I have been so focused on the future that it's impacting my present. I'm not quite sure if the impact is a positive one or a negative one, though.

I don't like to make mistakes. I also prefer for others to not make mistakes. And I am then terribly hard on myself and others when those mistakes were made. And I mean any mistake - not just a large one that results in s car accident or a hefty medical bill of some sort.

It's exhausting to live like that - to want to keep everyone from making mistakes and to feel a need to be so in control of everything that there are no mistakes to be made. It's exhausting to plan all of that out and to then decide on a way to execute the plan.

So maybe my discontentment stems less from the money, the house, and the job. Maybe it stems more from the exhaustion that comes from trying so hard to plan and prepare for every little thing instead of taking life as it comes and riding the waves or powering through the current.

On Sunday night, before turning off the light and maneuvering myself around the dogs, I searched for contentment in the Bible. The first verse I turned to was 1 Timothy 6:6-7. My hope had been for a verse that would detail how I could find contentment. What I got was another reminder that I bring nothing to the table, that everything I have is a gift and that no amount of effort (on my part) will keep life from happening.

As I search for contentment, I hope to move away from discontent and closer to an understanding that no amount of trying (on my part) will ensure that life follows the path I set. As I continue on a journey that has no specific end, I hope to focus more on the events on they occur and less on the end result I want.

And I hope to see the blessings that I have instead of only the blessings I hope to have. Because they are there - waiting for me to take notice - even if I refuse to acknowledge them.

(title from "hold on" by mary beth maziarz)


from another life

I watched two episodes of "Dawson's Creek" tonight.

I'm not sure if it was nostalgia or something else, but I felt a need to revisit a show that shaped my life in ways I'm still trying to figure out. I pulled out every season and read the summary paragraphs. The desire to start with the seasons I prefer, when Joey and Pacey begin their relationship and everything that follows, was there, but I started with the beginning. Because even if I am not the biggest fan of the beginning, it is where everything started.

I have memories of watching the show at night when it first aired. Memories of watching re-runs of it while getting ready for the day. Memories of spending entire weekends in my college apartment, cleaning or doing homework, and watching seasons at a time of the show. Memories of Starbucks and "Dawson's Creek" episodes with one of my best friends. Memories of picking out clothes similar to the ones Joey Potter wore and hoping that maybe one day there would be something worthy of writing about in my own life.

And the music? It spoke to me in a way I hadn't experienced before. The lyrics took over the episodes at just the right time, and I had the childish dream that one day I would be the one to pen a series and select the perfect music for each scene.

There's a part of me still that has that dream. Though I have no clue what the show would be about.

It's not just the memories that "Dawson's Creek" evokes or how it wove its way into so many pivotal moments of my life. It's also the inspiration I found from the characters, the dialogue, and the music. It's the dreams it brought to almost reality.

I still find it now. It's harder to come by. Life gets in the way. My body doesn't do well staying up into all hours of the night. But there's still inspiration lurking; I just have to fight to grab hold of it and turn it into something tangible.

And I think that's what growing up is. It's not just a series of moments. It's more than celebrating birthdays, weddings, and babies. It's grabbing hold of the things you want and turning them into tangible items.

My story is not that of a television show. The list of characters isn't neat and tidy. There are no great loves that followed me through adolescence, puberty, and then eventually into life after college.  There is not a soundtrack of fifteen songs that I could select to play throughout those moments.

There are mistakes I would like to forget. There are loves that weren't really loves at all. There are broken friendships and severed relationships and a list of characters that I sometimes wish I still knew and other times am glad I do not know. And there's an iPod with more than 4,000 songs that speak to different areas of my life - past and present and maybe even future.

At one time, I wanted my life to be a television show. To have neat and tidy episodes. To keep only certain people close, and to live up to an expectation that I created - one that would please the viewers.

I can't say the desire has completely left. Because television shows have a definite end and beginning - in each episode, for every season, and ultimately for the entire show. Life has a definite beginning in birth and then an ending in death, but the seasons of life and days don't always end or begin so clearly.

Maybe that's why so much of this is difficult. The endings and beginnings rush together. Every step can be considered the first step.

I plan on rewatching all of "Dawson's Creek" over the next few weeks and months. And I plan on paying attention to the details - to remind myself of all the reasons the show made me laugh and cry and connect.

And I plan on taking several new first steps. Steps towards writing. Steps towards my future and what I want to be when I finally grow up. Steps towards losing a total of twenty pounds and then another eighty pounds.

My life is not a television show. There will likely be no clear or clean endings and beginnings, but I can still find bits and pieces of myself in the dialogue and in the music.
Joey: Dawson, I'm sorry I don't have the same dreams I had when I was 15 years old, and I'm sorry that I moved on faster than you did, but you know what? Maybe not everything that happens to you is my fault! And maybe just because I want more from my life than...
Dawson: More than what? More than us? You don't know, do you? You've never known. The entire time I've known you, all you've wanted to do is escape. From me, from Capeside. I mean, you say that I'm the dreamer. I'm the one who doesn't wanna live in the real world. Well, I'm doing it, Joey. Right now. I'm living in the real world. It's you who wants the fantasy.
Jen: No, no, hear me out, Dawson, please. Okay? Because this seems to be the day of truths, and I'm taking my turn. I lost my virginity when I was 12 to some older guy who got me drunk, I don't really remember his name but after the first pregnancy scare I went on the pill, and I used condoms most of the time, some of the times, I don't know, it's kind of blurry. I was really drinking a lot and having blackouts and stuff, um. I was sexualized way too young, and I don't wish that on anybody. I mean, sex at such a young age, more often than not, is a bad idea. I finally got caught having sex in my parents' bed. Daddy's little girl fornicating right before his very eyes. He still can't look me in the face but then again he shipped me 200 miles away so he wouldn't have to, but Dawson I'm not that girl anymore. I never really was, and I'm not that white-as-snow image you've got either, I'm somewhere in between and I'm just, I'm just trying to figure it out.
Joey: How would you know what I need?
Pacey: Yeah...you know you're probably right. How could I possibly know what it's like to let somebody go, right? How hard it is to let someone go. The pain of knowing that even though the two of you are right for each other, that doesn't necessarily mean that you're right for each other right now. What would I know about that, right? How could I possibly know that sometimes it just makes you want to scream, hit somebody, or sit out at the end of a dock and cry...
Joey: Of all the people to see me like this, it had to be you.
(title from "dizzy" by jimmy eat world)


stars in your eyes

After a week and weekend filled with delicious, but not so healthy food, I expected to step on the scale today for my weekly weigh-in and see one of two things: 1. No weight loss or weight gain or 2. The first weight gain of my journey.

Instead, I saw a loss. Over a pound loss to be exact. Bringing my total weight loss to 17.8 pounds.

After seeing the loss, I started to notice other things. Definition in my calves. Definition in my biceps. A smaller stomach. Stomach muscles instead of just flab.

It's a start. A step in the right direction. Something I needed after a week of feeling so far from my goal and a week of crying because of every little thing.

There is still such a long ways to go, but in mere weeks, I will be a fifth of the way there.

The further I head into this journey the more I learn about myself and about my body. I'm learning to not go to the gym and sleep in on the mornings when it hurts to open my eyes and my feet feel like bricks. I'm learning to push myself and increase weights when I feel like a work-out is too easy instead of just gliding through another morning of weight lifting.

I mentioned yesterday that I wished I could afford a physical trainer. That I wanted someone to push me - someone other than friends and family. I brought this up last night when we met with friends from church for our weekly community group.

And someone made a statement that stuck with me then - a statement that I am still processing in my mind. The statement was something along the lines of looking at how far I have come on my own.

When I stepped on the scale earlier today, the statement came back to me. When I noticed the definition in my arms and my soon-to-be toned stomach, I realized the truth behind the statement.

There's a part of me that wants to do this all on my own without the assistance of a trainer pushing me harder and harder. There's also a part of me that is terrified of doing all of this on my own.
Really it doesn't matter whether I do this on my own or with the help of a trainer. I'm going to achieve the results I want either way. I'm not going to fall victim to hitting a plateau or of giving up when things get difficult.

It's a choice. Every day, I wake up and make the choice to go to the gym or to sleep longer. Every day, I make the choice to eat what I brought for lunch or run our for a healthy (or not healthy) lunch. Every day, I make the choice to spend my lunch hour in the pool. Every day, I make the choice to eat a large bowl of ice cream or a single serving of dessert.

And I document all these choices on my blog, on twitter, and on facebook. I document the choices to remind myself that every choice really means something, and I document the choices to keep myself accountable with friends and family.

There's a part of me that hates sharing every up and down. It's the part that worries too much over how the words come out. The part that feels my emotions are too varying to share - the part that wonders if people won't get sick of seeing me happy one day and then struggling the next.

But there's a bigger part that loves putting my progress onto a blog. It's the part that smiles when I'm told I inspire someone. It's the part that remembers how loving people and how happy people are to see those they know succeed. It's the part that realizes that this blog and journey is so much bigger than me or the 100 pounds I'm striving to lose.

Because my story is just part of a much larger story. It is but a snippet of a life. There is so much more to my story and to the story of the world. But I still have the chance to write my story down and to hit "publish" so that my story is available to the rest of the world.

And I hope you realize that your story is also part of a much larger story. And that you also have the chance to share you story - that you should share your story.

And I hope you also realize that it's not about how many people read. I fall into the trap of checking the statistics to see how many views my blog has received. And I measure my success in the number. But then, there's that one comment that stands out to me. A comment that states I inspired someone, and I remember that my little story needs to only reach one person to really matter.

(title from "don't forget me" by way out west)


a little bit caught in the middle

I knew this wouldn't be easy. Losing 100 pounds. Changing my eating habits and going to the gym. Working out at least five times a week. Sorting through all the things and struggles that got me to where I am. All the events that led up to a point where I needed and wanted to lose 100 pounds.

But I also didn't expect it to be this hard.

It's a slow process. I get that. But that's not the hard part. The exercise is becoming almost easy. I'm finding little ways to incorporate more weights and different kinds of cardo. I'm doing my best to push myself and to not allow myself to simply plateau.

Just because I can't afford a personal trainer to push me doesn't mean that I can't push myself like a trainer would.

There is so much more to this journey than food and exercise. I have a marriage to maintain and improve. I have a 40-hour work week. I have friends to stay in touch with. I have two dogs who want as much attention as I can give them. There is dinner to cook, laundry to wash and put away, a house to sweep, and a yard to tackle.

And right now, I am struggling with all the other things that go along with better choices, lifting weights, and more running.

I read somewhere that relationships are difficult to preserve during a journey such as mine. I say that knowing that when I said I do I meant I do for all the good times and that bad times. It's not always easy to keep that promise. There are times when it seems like life would be much better and easier if it were just me on my own. I'm learning that those times are a sign that my husband and I need to spend more time together - even if the introvert that I am is screaming for alone time.

This journey to lose 100 pounds is a solo journey. I have to make the choices I have to do the hard work. It's all about me. And while there is a sense of excitement that comes along with traveling and eventually completing this journey, it's also quite lonely.

There are people who are there. People to offer support. To cheer me on. To remind me of how far I've come. And I appreciate all of those people. But at the end of the day, I am alone in my head. I am the one working through all the things that brought me to this point where I had 100 pounds to lose. I am the one having to work out, go to work, come home, be married, blog, and not turn to large bowls of ice cream when I become stressed out.

This topic is a tricky one. And an ungly one - one almost as ugly as the crying I did on the couch last night because of how exhausted I was.

Spending time by myself recharges me. I need that time away from people. But sometimes I take too much time to myself even though it doesn't feel like I've taken enough time away from people. I'm close to crossing the line of too much time to myself. Maybe I even crossed it but have not yet admitted to it.

In the past, it was just me. I could just take that time and then come out of it on my own. But now I am married and have a husband who wants to spend time with me - even when I am at my worst and shouldn't be allowed others.

I don't know where to go from here. I thought the hardest part of this journey would be starting and then continuing for the first few weeks. And it was the hardest part until now. Now the hardest part is continuing to move forward and learning how to let those closest to me into the journey.

But, as I said last night to my husband once the tears had dried and I blew my nose, I'm not stopping. I'm still going to the gym. I'm doing my best to push myself and to keep myself from making too many bad choices with food. And nothing is going to keep me from moving forward - no amount of tears or amount of issues I have to work through.

(title from "the show" by lenka)


getting to know me more

My biggest struggle is control. I doubt anyone will be surprised by this statement. It's apparent that I want to be in control of all situations and at all times. I need to know what is happening currently and what will happen in the future. I also have a tendency to overthink everything that has happened in the past. It's a problem. And I am doing my best to let go.

And each time I think I am at a point where I can finally let go, where I am finally okay with not being in control of every sitatuation, something happens to remind me that I don't hold the world in my hands. Something happens that reminds me that it doesn't matter how tightly I hold on because there is something (someone really) who sees everything and not just the little blips I notice.

Starting the journey to lose a 100  pounds is in my control. I can make choices on what to eat and what not to eat. No one drags me out of bed and forces me onto the treadmill at 6:30am6:45am in the morning. No one throws me into the pool and demands that I swim or water jog or participate in deep water aerobics. It is my choice to do those things, and it is also my choice to not do those things should I decide I need (or want) sleep more.

But it's not my choice to lose weight. That's up to my body. And so often it is disappointing to count calories, consider fat content, spend hours at the gym a week, and then step onto the scale to feel defeated about the amount lost. To feel like this goal of mine is impossible or will take entirely too long.

I think it's the same way with life. Except I feel like, for some reason, I can better control all aspects of my life not having to do with food or weight loss, and so when even the tiniest thing is different than I had expected, I lose it.

I lose the control I thought I had but never really did. And I get angry and frustrated and disappointed, and what could have been harmless has now been amplified in my mind times one-thousand.

It's not just when something goes differently than planned, though. Because I sometimes spend my time thinking about what next to plan for and what next to be prepared for. There's something inside of me that says that if I hold on tightly and overthink things than the bad that could happen will stay away.

In the past, I've admitted to my issues with control. But admitting to something and actually dealing with it are two completely different things. And as I continue this journey to lose 100 pounds, I am learning that in order to lose the weight and be healthy I also need to shed the negative tendencies so that I can be healthy in the mental sense as well as the physical sense.

The question now is how to let go. How to both recognize that I have control over nothing and to become content in that. How to lift up my hands and say I trust you - to friends, to myself, to God, to my husband. How to not hold onto anything at all. Not even by a finger. But to understand that life is better lived while enjoying it and not planning every hour of every day.

Steps to lose weight are easy. The results might not come as quickly or as easily as I want. But I know what I have to do. I can see the results in the scale (sometimes), in the mirror, and in pictures. But control? Control is not an extra 15 pounds. It's internal. And while its weight is heavier than any scale can measure, it's impossible to see (or so it seems to me).

But I am trying. Praying with everything I have to let go while also praying for things to go a certain way. Recognizing that I have no control over anything at all while also trying to be in control.

So maybe I see the control in circles under my eyes or hear it in my tone of voice. Maybe it rests in the way I get up in the morning for the gym as well as in the way I don't get up in the morning for the gym. And maybe when I learn to fully let go and just trust that my friends, my husband, and God will be there to catch me, I will see it in the scale, in the mirror, and in pictures.

(title from "gardenia" by mandy moore)


when the show is over

I had the privilege of posting at Eat Move Write earlier today. I say privilege, and I mean it. It was also an honor. There's just something about being published on someone else's site, especially someone that you admire for both writing and weight loss.

Maybe I am a bit too hard on myself. Or rather I am a bit too hard on myself, and I often find it hard to believe that my words mean anything to anyone. But they do. And not only that, I am finding that my words mean a lot more than "anything."

I've wanted to be a writer for my entire life. But in a lot of ways, it has always been a "want" and not a reality. Many people will say that if you write you are by default a writer. And it's true. But for some reason, I felt like I had to be published or have a certain number of followers or any other variety of details in order to be a writer.

Much like my thinking about the reasons I didn't lose weight that I talked about in my guest post, I stopped myself from writing. I stopped myself from taking the illusive first step.

I have the degree in writing. I also have, from what I was told at a workshop, the understanding of grammar. But there is something missing in my writing. It's a freeness that I once had, I think. I'm afraid to take risks now. I stick to what I know. I write ideas other people provide. I remain in a comfort zone with writing.

It's much like with weight loss. Even though I wasn't happy or healthy, I was comfortable with where I was.

I actually thought I was thinner than I was. But I stayed away from cameras as much as I could. I stopped taking pictures with my husband at every chance, and I even refused to post any new pictures of myself on Facebook or here. I'm still weary of posting pictures. But I'm slowing coming around.

I think it's because I see progress. I see what leaving my comfort zone can accomplish.

A year ago this September, my sister-in-law got married. I wore the dress I bought for my own rehearsal dinner three years ago this September. And when I put it on, I could tell that it didn't fit the way it once had, but with little time left, and nothing else to wear, we left for the church.

I see the difference now. In fact, I saw the difference as soon as the pictures were on facebook. But I didn't take the first step. Because I wasn't ready.

It's the same with writing. I see what is happening. I know what I need to do. But I have convinced myself I wasn't ready.

Right now, though, I am trying. I am stretching myself and dabbling in guest posts, in short stories, in contests. I'm concentrating on my novel. I'm taking risks, and I'm allowing myself to be a writer.

And just like that first step I took, I know it will pay off. I just won't be able to take a picture of it in the mirror.

(title from "these friends of mine" by rosie thomas)


to ride upon my heart

Minutes ago, it started raining, and now, I sit on the couch listening to nothing but the sound of water splattering on the grass, the sidewalk, and pinging off the chimney. It's not the first time it has rained in the past few weeks, but it is the first time in months that I have been able to enjoy the rain from the comfort of my own home.

This weekend has been about relaxing. About spending time with my husband, with friends, and with my in-laws. It's been less about watching what I eat and more about enjoying food and laughter and conversation. It's been exactly what I needed. What my husband and I both needed.

It's easy to get caught up in life. To think only of the goals I have set for myself and lose sight of other things. But as important as health is and as much as I am striving towards my goal, I also want to enjoy my friends and food and the simple pleasures of life that can so easily become lost.

I'm learning to let go. Still. I don't think I will ever stop learning how to let go.

I've said here before that I like to be in control. I hold on tightly to things I think are best. I grip onto those things I count as important and refuse to let go even when my knuckles turn as white as a crisp Hanes' tee-shirt. And I've said here before that I am working on it. That I feel like I am getting to a point where I can let go.

Maybe I have almost gotten to that point, but then, inevitably, something happens and all of a sudden I am at least half a mile away from that point where I thought I might be able to let go.

At church today, we sang a song about surrender. So often I sing the songs regardless of how much I believe the words. But this morning, I couldn't. Because I knew that it was a lie - that I didn't surrender everything. So instead of singing the words as displayed on the screen, I sang and asked for help to surrender all.

I'm not there yet. Maybe closer than I was this morning but not yet all the way there. So I can't provide any guidance on how to let go and allow your knuckles to turn from white to pink. But I can tell you that right now I am doing everything I can to lean into where we are.

There has been a lot of change recently. Change in eating habits. Change in income and jobs. Change in my relationships. And change in other things. As much as I often crave change, I don't do so well when the change comes in unexpected ways or happens at times that I see as less than ideal.

But I am learning from it. I think. I hope.

What am I learning? That change is going to happen. That it is okay to be wary of change but that it's not okay to lose sight of everything else when change happens. That it is okay to take care of myself but that it's not okay to do so sense at the expense of others. And that a lot of times the change is for the best even if it doesn't seem like it right away.

The other day, I read a blog post about someone whose house sold. Right after she prayed and let go of control. My first thought should have ben excitement for her, but it wasn't. My first thought was why can't God move that quickly in my life? I didn't give much more time to the thought until this morning when my husband and I climbed into the car after church. I turned to him and told him I felt like I was at home.

For the past few months, I've felt anything but at home. I've questioned my faith. I've questioned my goals for life and the places (and people) I feel called to serve. We've wondered where we fit in. There's been fights and tears and many, many unanswered questions. There have been emails sent to friends asking for prayers and prayers prayed to God. And so much of the response has been silence.

And then today, in an almost silent voice and with a tiny breath of air breathed into me, I felt at home. My husband felt it too.

And I felt compared to share it here. Even though it terrifies me. Because I worry that as soon as I recognize this time of blessing that it will disappear. And God's response to me has been and if it does? 

Maybe He wants me to learn to be content in all situations. Or maybe He wants to show me that He knows what He is doing and that He has a better handle than I ever could. Or maybe He simply wants to remind me of every promise He has made me and show me that they will come true - in His time.

So I am here. Writing this. Listening to the sound of the rain and relishing in the fact that there is no work for me tomorrow. Looking forward to further blessings. Remembering that this is a time to both enjoy and to press into. And knowing that I will be back to doing my best to continue on the path of weight loss come Tuesday.

But for now, I am going to enjoy friends, food, family, and His blessings.

(Also, in case you missed it, I wrote a short story and won a contest. The story is called Homecoming. I hope you enjoy it.)

(title from "you are for me" by kari jobe)


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