run toward the fire

Last week, I met with a trainer. I was finally over my wall (or through it - whichever you prefer), but my weight plateaued. The scale stopped moving for the most part though it did show the occasional gain. Friends continues to mention I looked slimmer, so I chose to blame the muscle I was gaining as the culprit for the stalled scale.

And it is possible the muscle was to blame. But it was also possible that my habits - both with exercise and with eating - were to blame. So I made the choice to try something different.

I wasn't sure what to expect with this meeting. In high school, I worked out with a trainer for some time, but that was years ago and I barely remember what it entailed. I had my hopes of a full work out, of him pushing me and showing me that I was capable of more.

Meetings with personal trainer, much like the rest of life, do not mirror shows like "Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition" or "The Biggest Loser." Rather than run on the treadmill until I thought I would pass out or feel like I was going to die from lifting too much weight, we sat down at a small table and discussed what I am currently doing. Then, before he had a chance to see how much I could lift, he wrote down a plan and included the amount he thought I should be lifting.

I left the session frustrated. And feeling as though nothing was going to change.

To be honest, I went into the session hoping someone would push me out of my comfort zone and into a zone where I tried harder than I ever had before. And while I didn't get a person to push me out of my comfort zone, I gained some knowledge of how to push myself out of my comfort zone.

It didn't happen on Thursday or on Friday. But on Saturday, I forced myself to go to the gym. I then also forced myself to try something new - something that would inevitably leave me sore and barely able to move.

The trainer mentioned spending at least one day completing a 30-minute circuit. The thought of spending a minute doing cardio and then a minute of weight lifting was daunting to say the least. But instead of shying away from the task at hand, I turned the music from my iPod up, gritted my teeth, and determined that I would finish the 30-minute circuit.

And I did finish. Barely. But I finished. I spent the rest of the day in pain and all of Sunday barely able to move. But I finished.

Trying something new while at the gym has turned into trying something new while at home as well.

When I started my journey to lose 100 pounds in April 2011, I decided not to diet. I wanted to make a lifelong change; I didn't want to make a short term change and then find that I would be unable to maintain the weight loss. I made changes to what I ate and how I ate. I did my best to count every calorie.

It worked. But eventually I plateaued. And I found myself bored with frozen dinners and wanting to eat ice cream and egg noodles with alfredo sauce when I got home.

A friend from work mentioned the South Beach Diet. I heard the word "diet" and immediately said no. I reminded her of my wanting to not diet but wanting to change my lifestyle. And then I went on with the rest of my day.

I continued to go back to the thought of the South Beach Diet, and I eventually entered the search term "south beach diet phase 1" into Google. After researching both the diet itself and recipes I could make at home, I said I was in, and I started this new lifestyle on Monday morning.

It would be easy enough to call it a diet. To say that for the next several months I will watch how much and what kind of carbohydrates I eat. To explain that I am going to limit the amount of sugar I eat for the next several months. To think that when all is said and done I can go back to eating whatever I want and whenever I want in moderation and as long as I remain active.

But I won't be able to go back to eating whatever I want. And I shouldn't go back to eating whenever I want. I should commit to whatever changes I make, and I should recognize the foods that have led me astray in the past and do whatever I can to not allow them to lead me astray again.

I started this new lifestyle days ago. In the past, had I started a new lifestyle days ago, I would have also ended the new lifestyle days ago. It wouldn't have been because of a lack of desire but because of a lack of discipline - a lack of drive.

Exercising almost every day has provided me with more discipline than I thought I had. It has also shown me that I can do more than I thought I could. It has reminded me that I can push myself - that I don't have to fear pushing myself too far. And so I have taken this discipline and applied it to eating.

As hard as it is to not eat carbohydrates like baked potatoes and pasta, I've shown myself that I can do it. Just like I showed myself that I can push myself and complete a 30-minute circuit work out.

And I did it almost all on my own. No reality television show or personal trainer needed.

(title from "satisfied" by jewel)

i am never broken

9:00pm comes, and for the first time all day, I am ready to write. I've rested on the couch and had dinner. We have laughed over a sitcom streaming on Netflix and also watched an episode of Design Star. The house is cooling down, after my leaving the broiler on for too long. The glass from the broken wine glass is picked up.

Instead of opening my MacBook and typing, I force myself off the couch and then climb into bed with my husband and two dogs. It is a night of almost seven hours of sleep. In the past, seven hours of sleep would be nowhere near enough, but now, with leaving for the gym at 5am most work days, I cherish any sleep over six hours.

So often, in the midst of a busy day at work or while navigating my car through traffic, ideas come to me. Realizations. Questions. Thoughts on life, on love, on faith, on journeying through all the ups and downs that accompany any and every little thing.

And then, when there is time to write, the ideas dissipate. Or the need and desire for sleep wins out.

This time of my life, this journey, is about so much. One of those things is deciding what matters in my life. It's about putting certain things and people first. It's about disentangling myself from the things that hold me back. It's about forgiving myself and others for past mistakes so that I can move on - never again to be captured by those emotions of anger, anxiety, and uncertainty.

And the things that matter include exercise, cooking, laundry, writing, reading. And the people that matter include my husband, our families, our friends, and our two dogs (because they are more people than pets).

Deciding what matters in my life is just one piece of this neverending puzzle. The other piece that I am struggling with currently is finding and making and keeping time for all the important things and people.

It's so easy for me to put myself last. To make everything into an excuse for why I can't do something like eat better or spend at least two hours at the gym every day. For so long, I did everything I could to stay where I was. To continue to hide in whatever fashion I could. To put everything else first and remind myself that eventually there would be time.

But there is never enough time unless you make the time. Life is so full with jobs, marriages, friends, and all that goes into living the life of a 26-year-old professional. It's all to easy to stay in a coccoon of life. To never move past this stage and into the next. To never become that butterfly.

I had to come to grips with the fact that my cocoon was not the safe place. The cocoon was the suffocating place, the place where my vicious cycle continued and I asked, Why is there no light? Why am I stuck here? without actually finding an answer. The cocoon was tight and uncomfortable, not safe and inviting--a trap, not a haven. And the more I wrapped myself in layersand layers of protective coating, the harder it was to emerge from that false sense of security. It was not until later that I realized a cocoon is not a sweet escape from life. It is the absence of life. --Abby Rike, Working It Out

I haven't spent my entire life in a cocoon. There have been moments of beauty and brilliance. Moments when I was so close to understanding who I was. Moments when I felt like I officially beat every demon and had cleaned out every skeleton in my closet.

And then something would happen. I would retreat back into the cocoon. I would pull myself in and wrap myself in something - anything - to hide. Sometimes it was extra weight. Other times an unnatural looking tan. Sometimes losing too much weight.

I had my mother send me pictures from these moments. And I have every intention of going through them all and understanding who I was in that moment and why I was that way. I have every hope of sharing those understandings here and moving on. Because it is time to leave the cocoon permanently. There will be no going back this time.

9:00pm comes, and for the first time all day, I am ready to write. I've rested on the couch and had dinner. We have laughed over a sitcom streaming on Netflix and also watched an episode of Design Star. The house is cooling down, after my leaving the broiler on for too long. The glass from the broken wine glass is picked up.
Exercising is part of leaving the cocoon. Eating healthy is as well. Opening myself up is another part. And I am doing all three of these things all at once. Even on the days when I feel like doing nothing of the sort. Also on days when I feel like I have already blown it and wonder why I should even keep trying.

But that's the thing. Those days will happen. Always. It's my choice to make on how they impact me. And this time, for the first time, I choose to not allow those days to keep me from moving forward. I refuse to let anything stop me.

(title from "hands" by jewel)

in times like these

picture found here.

I planned to stop at McDonald's this morning. An iced, vanilla coffee started to call my name as soon as I left the house. My stomach upset, and the hint of a headache (which has lingered for almost three days now) sneaking up on me.

The plan stuck with me as I navigated I-35, and I pulled off onto the exit and then into the parking lot. The line was wrapped around McDonald's. I grunted and then pulled into a parking spot.

And then I paused. I was already running late. And my eyes were not drooping.

Instead of turning off the car, I shifted into reverse and then left the parking lot. No coffee in hand.

Every now and then, I think God uses His sense of humor to speak to me in situations like this. I see it as His way of reminding to let go of my expectations, to let go of my desire for these worldly things. Coffee is fine, yes, but it's better when made at home (or replaced by a homemade chai tea latter). Picking up an iced coffee from McDonald's is all right in moderation, but when money is tight and I am praying for a way for it to be not so tight, I need to let go of the comforts I think I deserve all the time.

I go back and forth on this. I want the comforts of this life. Even though I know they are just comforts and not necessities. And sometimes my want of the comforts of the life take over, and I lose sight of the important things.

Because I do want to enjoy the simple things in life. And I do want to live a more simplistic lifestyle. I hope that my everyday story will reflect His story. Only I want all of this on my own terms, and that just isn't the way it works.

My husband and I sponsor a child in Haiti through Compassion International. It's a pledge we made early on in our marriage. Letters from our child hang on the refrigerator, and I write him through email or by putting pen to paper. A week ago, I considered discontinuing our sponsorship of him.

It would be an extra $32 in our bank account. And is this something we can really afford? Thinking back now I realize how selfish and ridiculous it would have been to end the sponsorship. Maybe if things were really tight. In the sense of there was no income entering our bank account. But right now when I want extra breathing room to make the purchases I deem important?

Thank goodness it is not an easy point and click process to end a sponsorship. Thank goodness that just days later we received a letter from the child we sponsored. And thank goodness I have a husband who would have told me I was wrong and then re-sponsored the child had I successfully ended the sponsorship.

I have this lie circulating in my head that I shouldn't have to suffer. That things should just come easily. It's a lie I battle every day as I remind myself that suffering will only make us stronger. It's a lie I battle every day as I tell myself that God has a plan and that He will use all of this for my good and His glory. And it is a lie I (try to) combat by reminding myself that God loves me enough to not just give me all the things I want. He wants me to learn how to work for things, and He wants me to understand what struggle is so that I can later on show compassion to others who struggle.

I've also bought into the lie that comfort is important. Of the utmost importance. It's a lie I think we as a country as we as a generation buy into. We want the most up to date technology. We look for the easiest way to cook, to shop, to do everything.

And comfort is not the most important thing. Vacations are important, yes. Rest is necessary. We do all deserve a break at some point, yes. But this idea that comfort will take care of everything is nothing but a lie. It sets us all up for failure and frustration when we are unable to achieve the amount of comfort we feel like we should.

For me, it has to do with vacations. I want a chance to go to the beach, to sip drinks on the beach and sleep in as late as I want. I want to jump on a plane and fly to Michigan or California at the drop of a hat. It also has to do with things. I want a new computer. I want a different couch for my living room. I want things that I already have, but I would prefer to have the better kind of thing.

So God used a long line at McDonald's to remind me that I do not need of any of these things. He used the $2 I didn't spend on an iced vanilla coffee to remind me that I need a shift in my perspective.

The question now is what do I do. First, I continue to get out of my own way. I also continue to stop making excuses. And I remind myself every morning what is important (and what is not). And then I leave the rest up to Him. Because I'm not in control of anything.

Has God ever given you a change of perspective?

(title from "hands" by jewel)

feels like being underwater

picture found here.

It is not yet the middle of April, and the air conditioner is turned on. I'm dressed in a tank top and capri pants. I enjoy warmer weather but am not the biggest fan of summer. I think it's because I long for vacations in the summer, and at this point, we have no vacations planned.

If we could, we would travel. To Michigan. To Mexico. To Texas. To see family. And to spend hours by the pool, warming our skin and then cooling off in the pool. One day we will.

But still. Warmer weather brings longer walks outside. We took both dogs out this morning and navigated the cracked sidewalks. Then after some rest, my husband and I spent an hour in downtown Oklahoma City, walking and eating frozen yogurt. A simple afternoon but one that elicited conversation. Sometimes the best afternoons are the simple ones.

I'm doing my best to enjoy the simple moments. It's not always easy because I do struggle with wanting more, but I am getting there.

On the drive home, we talked about writing. I'm close to finishing the second draft of my novel, and it terrifies me. This fear is a layered one. It is fear of success, of failure, and what will come next. Because if there is success, then more is expected. And if there is failure, then a person has to start over again.

I'm holding tightly to my dreams, though, as scary as they are. I am reminding myself that I can do this. That this writing thing? It is my passion, and it is something I need to turn into a reality. I've spent too many months and years "writing a novel"; it is time to finish the novel and then move onto the next step - whatever that might be.

I keep coming back to words I've heard for years. Words about writing. And about how I have what it takes. It is time for me to believe those words. And not just as they relate to writing but as they relate to every aspect of life.

There is a trap I often fall into. It is the trap of comparison. Comparison only to the things I see. Things like other's homes, other's marriages, other's successes. And I think of how I want this or that or anything that appears better than what I have.

I'm trying to move away from the trap of comparison. But it's not an easy trap to bid farewell to. It is a trap that so easily ensnares and then takes over every possible thought and aspect it can. Similar to the clover that spreads so effortlessly in our front yard as the grass struggles to spring up.

Comparisons are only made on the surface level. They run as deep as the eye can see and then they stop. And only concentrating on those things seen on the surface does nothing but keep a person from realizing the truth: that everyone has their own struggles.

There is no writer (that I know of) who writes a book effortlessly and eloquently on the first try and then publishes it without any editing. There is no wife in a marriage without strife and who doesn't work every single day to make it the best marriage possible.

Why then is it so much harder to realize the truth rather than focus on the lies comparisons tell us?

This is a question I have asked over the past several days. I am asking God and seeking His heart for my life. I am looking into my own life and seeing the good as well as focusing on the aspects that I can change for the better. Because I do have the chance to move from where I am to where I want to be; it just might take longer than I prefer.

One way of doing this is to keep a list of my blessings. A weekly list. Some items come to mind quickly and others take their sweet time.

And another way is to finish. To finish my novel. To move from having a dream to completing a labor of love. It's time to step out and do all the things I've talked about doing. It's time to bid farewell to the fears and embrace the hopes I have.

(title from "break me" by jewel)

through time and space

picture found here.

Most days I sit at the computer desk (or with my MacBook on my lap) and begin to type. The words flow somewhat effortlessly. And I somehow tie all my thoughts together. I often times wonder if the writing is concise enough. But I rarely edit; it has always been my least favorite thing about writing.

But the post I am writing now is different. It is one I have written multiple times. I began it three different ways, in my mind, during the 40 minute drive home from work. I also typed several sentences yesterday evening and then hit delete.

I'm still not sure what to say. I don't know how to describe the events of the past few days. I am also still processing the events to understand what they mean for my life now. I know they will also effect my life in the future, so there is also that to consider.

To be honest, it all started weeks (maybe months) ago. And then something happened this weekend. Or rather a lot of somethings happened. And I don't think things are done happening yet either. God is definitely up to something right now.

I've wrestled with the idea of God caring so much about my life for quite awhile. My faith that He is real has not wavered. But how He fits into my life has.

I wonder what He wants to do with me. I also wonder if He truly listens to what I have to say. I question His purpose and plan for my life, and to take it one step further, I ask if He has a specific purpose for my life. There's a part of me that has felt that I wasn't good enough for Him to rest His hand upon - at least not in the way He has other people.

I longed for a deep relationship with Him. Following moments of silence and of darkness, He responded and reminded me that He was there. And still I wondered. I know my questions were frustrating to some of those around me and specifically to my husband. Because they weren't just questions. They were inner-monologues and then tears and lots of anger.

There were several weeks when he wasn't sure what to do. And I didn't know what he needed to do. Or what I needed to do. But I knew I needed something.

Sometime last week, my husband grew tired of it all. And he made a phone call that I couldn't bring myself to make. It was a phone call I gave him permission to make. It was also a phone call I had all but begged him to make at different points in this whole mess of questioning and wondering. Within twenty-four hours of his phone call, I received a phone call from someone we attend church with. I had never met her before, but there was a connection.

We agreed to meet for coffee and cupcakes on Saturday. The weather was forecast to be beautiful earlier in the week, but by the time Saturday arrived, the temperatures had dipped back into the 50s. The local establishment that I expected to be close to empty was full with a line almost out of the door. And yet somehow we got a table.

I didn't really think much of it. It was luck. Except there is no real such thing as luck. Not when God is involved and not when He is on the move.

What happened that afternoon is both clear in my mind and fuzzy. Our conversation was simple and introductory. We talked about faith and life, and then friends of hers were getting ready to leave when one stopped and told me words from the Lord. It was similar to this moment and then completely different. At that time, I was in a larger gathering and with close friends. I was taken off guard and not sure what to think. This time I was in a smaller setting and with people I was just starting to get to know. And yet the same thing was accomplished. God spoke right to my heart.

Words like "love" and "Holy Spirit." Words like "justice" and "mothering" and "dreams." He told me that God knew the plans He had for me and that they were good. I was told that the promises God had made me were still true.

And I could feel Him. I could feel Him whispering to me, and then the whispers turned into a louder voice. He was speaking to me through someone I didn't know. The issues of my heart were being answered, and I was being reminded of the truth I had lost. That I was loved and that I was good enough and that He wanted a real relationship with me.

I'm still considering it all. I am still asking questions and praying through it. I continue to seek His counsel and to pray that I will go in the directions He leads me. And I also still have no idea where He is sending me.

But I know that He has plans for me. He has plans for all of us. And His plans are good. Infinitely better than anything I could imagine. And these plans will come together for my good and for your good. He loves us too much for them not to.

Is there more? Yes. But I'm not yet ready to share. I'll hold those thoughts close and consider them over a few more cups of coffee.

(title from "i love you forever" by jewel)