Gain Faith, Lose Weight

Empathy in Extreme

2011-10-21T16:24:00.001-04:00

Many of you may have read about the recently publicized personal trainer named Drew who is on a journey of taking six months to eat an unrestricted diet in order to gain weight and experience the emotional and physical cravings of being overweight and addicted to sugary and fatty foods. He started in May 2011 and after six months, will then utilize his food and fitness plan to lose the weight during the following six months. Haven't heard about it yet? You can check it out at his website www.fit2fat2fit.com.

In my own journey of weight loss with its ups and downs, physically, emotionally and spiritually, the reason I share my ideas is to give hope in the area of weight loss. Why can I do this? Because I've been there. Drew is taking the courageous step to walk in the shoes of those of us who struggle with food addiction, at least for a little while. I find it interesting to note, however, that in his description he says he is "addicted" to fitness. Is this yet another area of addiction, which needs to be put in its proper place? Such a tough balance.

I can't wait until we can simply feast in heaven and not worry about our physical bodies along with all its addictions, both positive and negative. Being free of the bondage of addiction is the ultimate desire, but in the meantime, we all need a way to learn to manage them. Through it all, I stand by my motto: God is there---always.

I am fascinated and inspired by Drew's example of empathy to the extreme levels. How about you?

Be Still and Know that I am God

2011-10-14T15:01:00.001-04:00

I know that The Oprah Winfrey Show has finished its final season on the air, however, I recently discovered Oprah herself is continuing her appearances on television with a new level of meaning. She is hosting a series called "Lifeclass" with the premise that she discusses various aspects of having a better life.

In a recent episode, she talked about one of my favorite (and most challenging!) topics: believing in yourself. She spoke of an inner voice to which we need to listen in order to get a sense of our personal purpose in this world. She quoted one of my favorite verses in the psalms "Be still and know that I am God." This stillness, she suggests, is defined as obtaining the sense of inner quiet so that we can get in touch with ourselves.

What I love about the verse is that I see it as having four meanings, depending on the focus word. For starters, the common focus on the word "STILL" in "Be STILL and know that I am God" suggests a calmness created so that we can quiet ourselves enough to be able to sense a presence of God in our lives. It's oh so important, and is probably the one blessed thing we can choose to do for ourselves for a more focused life. But the verse has more intonations: with a focus on the word "KNOW", I am reminded that while I am working at the discipline of being calm, I can KNOW that my Creator is God, and am strengthened in my faith as a result. The next focus is on the word "I". Boy this one straightens me out like a schoolgirl when I realize I am once again trying to take control of things only God can do. "Be still and know that I am God" reminds me that God is God; it's a simple fact. I am reassured when I can depend on Him and Him alone. And the final focus on the word "God" reads like this: "Be still and know that I am GOD." I can hear the music playing; harps and trumpets and drums, all in harmonious sound, humbling me to my core when I recognize I am talking about the Big Guy here. Do I hear an "Amen?"

Putting My Face On

2011-10-04T16:06:00.001-04:00

I love makeup and I love scripture.

My kids and I have a daily practice of “putting on our armor” as suggested in the book of Ephesians to help us prepare for our day. We put on our “belt of truth” while practicing to clip on our belt buckles, and the “breastplate of righteousness” while patting our chests, and tie up the shoes on our “feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.” We then strap on our “helmets of salvation” and the “shield of faith” (left arm bent upwards in a protective gesture) and thank God for the “sword of the spirit, which is the Word of God.” I sensed a mother’s calling to instill tangible ways to apply biblical principles for my children to see the connection between God’s way of working in our world and our need to be safe and protected each day.

Personally, I enjoy makeup as my way to prepare for my day, both physically, mentally and spiritually. When I wash my face with special cleansers and apply the moisturizing lotions, it’s my version of buckling up my belt of truth. Without cosmetics, the truth of how my skin looks is evident! I’ll properly apply foundation and concealer to cover up my flaws and appear “righteous” like that breastplate I’m wearing, and give me that sense of peace I need from the gospel. Next, a smooth stroke of the brush, and I apply blush to my cheeks giving me a look of being more alive because of my helmet of salvation. My eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara give me that extra touch of color which can radiate from the faith I carry in my precious shield, and the lipstick enhances my mouth which is ready to speak the treasured Word of God, which is the sword of the spirit.

I think God likes makeup too!

Spinning on the Exercise Wheel

2011-07-07T19:11:00.003-04:00

I was headed out bright and early for a 5:45 (yes, in the morning!) spin class when I saw a note left by my precious daughter the night before: “Have fun, mommy!” In case you haven’t tried spinning yet, it is simply a form of working out on an exercise bike with a twist: the instructor guides you with his/her suggestions as you adjust the intensity and speed of your bike riding during the workout to follow the pace of the blaring music to move you along. Is it fun? I choke when I try to use the word “fun” and “exercise” in the same sentence. I could not honestly say “Ok!” to my daughter’s suggestion, but I made a mental note to try.

Quick history: I am a successful weight loss story, having lost over 100 pounds for a full-body and life transformation. My anchor: prayer. Seriously. You can learn more about that in my talks and upcoming book, but for now, I want to discuss exercise specifically. You thought I’d say my anchor on this weight loss journey would be exercise, didn’t you? It’s not. I exercise only because I have to exercise. Sometimes, I have fun with it, maybe, but I don’t mind missing out on fun because I fully believe in the health requirements related to the discipline of exercise. As for my workout routine, I am a serious at-home exerciser. The less time I use traveling to a gym, or planning to get together with someone else, or any other form of coordination equates to more time to do the exercise itself and get it over with. Nice attitude, huh? Nice or not, this attitude keeps me going, and I get the chance to experience better health as a result.

With all that said, you realize by now that the spin classes are a stretch for me. Every once in a while, I have a crazy notion to kick up my exercise challenge to see what else I can do. And so I tried spinning for the first time last year…and I blogged about it too…you can refer to it on this blog (check it out here). Today's spin class, however, was just another crazy notion and I decided on a fluke to take up my friend’s suggestion to try out her class.

Kudos to Kris, my friend and spin instructor, who took me on a journey like never before. It was her suggestions that kept me going for the full hour at that insane time in the morning, when she said things like: “This mountain is yours: you can take it!”, or “Don’t let the bike control you; you control the bike!” and, my favorite, “Recovery makes you strong!” (yes, I was looking forward to the end of the workout, also known as “recovery”!)

The bottom line, I finished the class---intense and all. The intensity was apparent with the dripping sweat I wore as my trophy for a job well done. Even more rewarding was the smile I wore when I realized that some parts of this particular workout were fun after all. Taking the time to challenge my mind, body and spirit in a way that required such focus that I forgot about all my troubles: not only is it fun, but a gift.

There are other ways to boost up your intensity, and particularly if you are an at-home exerciser like I am, you might want to go all-out with the famous P90X system. No, I haven’t tried it…yet…but my courage might increase enough to say it’s worth a shot. I like the fact that the beachbody.com products seem to deliver what they promise: an intense workout that gives intense results. I appreciate that they tell me it’s intense; they tell me it will take time; they tell me it will require consistency for some period of time. There’s also an Insanity workout program; don’t you just love the name of that one? It’s great that these systems include food suggestions to go along with the programs. If you’re ready to check it out, here are the links:
For the P90X, click here!
For the Insanity workout, click here!

As for me, I’m taking things one day at a time; one exercise at a time. You may be more courageous than I. Go for it! For now, I’m headed to the showers.

Hallway of Hope

2011-06-02T06:27:00.000-04:00

I mentioned in my recent post that we are faced with a new "normal" in our family: my husband has cancer. It's a slow-growing, rare form of cancer with no real cure, however there is a chemo cocktail in clinical trial form which promises to manage, and possibly even minimize some of the tumors in his body.

Daunting, I know. However, after tons of research, multiple consultations with doctors and cancer center department specialists, we are cautiously optimistic. We don't have many choices, actually. And so we need to be confident with our decision. Or do we?

My confidence comes from my faith. Confidence is not from the medical decision itself; it's in the fact that I know God is there, all the time, no matter what. I have been focused on a phrase in Phillipians 4 about God's peace. It's God's peace, which is so great I cannot understand it, that guards my heart and mind. Not my peace. Heck, I cannot create a sense of peace about any of these issues. Instead, I simply hold on to hope with a new start each day.

Two full months lapsed between the time of his diagnosis and his first day of treatment. Two months of waiting. With hope. Two months of planning. With hope. Two months of getting ready to get started in his fight with cancer. With hope.

My husband was examined; blood was drawn; papers were processed, and the first step of his actual treatment was prepared, which was in the form of a shot. He was escorted to the hallway where his medicine would be administered chair-side, in a special chair reserved for him. When I walked to the entrance of that hallway, I gasped. There were at least a dozen other patients sitting there, lining both sides of the hallway, receiving their medication, too. All shapes, sizes and ages of people. The unspoken common theme: we were all dealing with cancer. Funny how we all become the same, then. I now call that place the Hallway of Hope. And together we all continue to fight this thing called cancer. With hope.

Emotional Flood

2011-05-09T11:01:00.000-04:00

"How do you handle an emotional flood?"

This question was posed by one of my favorite links--the Women of Faith website (www.womenoffaith.com)--and touched my heart. This year has been a year of tremendous emotional flooding, but I am here in the middle, still swimming, treadwater style, with energy to spare because of the fact that I can remember God is there to hold me up every time.

In January my husband went to the hospital--again--for stomach pain radiating to his back. Long story short: we have been dealing with the language of ulcers and stomach acids for a couple years and know when there's something amiss causing his level of pain requiring hospital intervention. That January hospital stay resulted in an ulcer diagnosis with follow-up treatment and medication. Things were quiet for a couple of months. The end of March then resulted in similar symptoms and back to the hospital he went. "Here we go again", I thought. After a week of testing, probing, poking, questioning, prodding and more testing, we were blindsided by the new result which was not an typical stomach ulcer this time---it was cancer.

Yikes, the 'c' word. This new reality resulted in a new level of puzzle-solving; the cancer diagnosis explained all the unexplainable issues and symptoms over the past several years. The cancer is a slow-growing type which was finally discovered and now it's time to tackle the thing.

Emotional flood? You betcha. In the middle of it all, I still have my faith, though. There's a song with the lyrics "On Christ the solid rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand..." Those lyrics have reminded me, almost daily, that I have a place to stand in the middle of this treadwater status. A rock can appear under my flailing legs and help me to stay still and stay safe. What I also realize now is a new twist to the sinking sand metaphor (the second part of those lyrics). If I am on sinking sand, like I feel these days, only by staying still can I get help. If I flail and work and fight to get out, I will only sink deeper. Staying still, and being on that rock, makes the emotional flood or the sinking sand be minimized into a simple setting of my current life, not the definition of it.

I am grateful for Christ, my rock.

On that rock, and that rock alone, can I stand to move forward in the middle of crisis mode and continue with healthy eating, weight loss goals, and self-care. I am committed to continue on this Gain Faith, Lose Weight journey in a stronger way and refuse to give in to the 'oh well, it's not important' attitude about watching my own food issues in this emotional floodwater. Hey, it's the emotional eating that got me to being more than 100 pounds overweight, and it's the lack of emotional eating that will keep me healthy and fit. I need that rock of Christ to stand so that I can simply eat for sustenance and enjoyment, not emotional-stuffing. He comes through every time I stay still and look up.

Exercise is Easy---I think!

2011-02-24T14:57:00.000-05:00

Walk...walk...walk; walk...walk...walk... Are you up and out of your chair yet? This is the mantra from my very favorite video exercise leader: Leslie Sansone! She has supplied more than 25 years of inspiration sprinkled with a heaping dose of encouragement in her walk-at-home workouts. Leslie's DVDs have been my primary fitness training tool for more than six years in my journey of losing over 100 pounds, and I still enjoy the benefit of getting my needed exercise without the pressure of a fitness gym or the need to run a marathon! Why are the walk-at-home workouts so great? Because I still sweat my way through an effective workout without worrying about injuries. You see, I know I need to work out but I want to be able to walk tomorrow. If I had a choice, I wouldn't use my time working out; I have many other hobby preferences: reading a book, visiting with friends, baking a yummy treat. But the workouts are necessary, and I needed to find something that works for this non-workout-fan who is a workout queen.

All this said, I find it amusing how God can use my skills to help others, even in places of weakness. Tomorrow, I will once again go to a local elementary school to demonstrate my "Exercise is Easy" program using Leslie's DVDs for the young children, in an attempt to share the fact that exercise is possible for anyone, even those who are not the sports starts. Y'know: kids just like me who grew up running around only when playing tag, and sitting around otherwise. Yup, I tried other things like rollerskating, but sports were never easy for me. Yup, I usually got picked last for the softball teams and I usually didn't mind because I preferred to skip playing softball anyway.

Childhood obesity is such a hot topic and the pressure is on for the food manufacturers and fast-food chains to modify their offerings. I hope to encourage the fact that exercise is easy and doesn't need to be done with the Biggest Loser drama, but instead, can be done moderately and regularly to provide a healthy result. I know, I know...this can be less interesting than those reality TV shows, but hey...it's life!

Messages from Moses

2011-01-30T16:10:00.002-05:00

Every year for the past several years, I have been enjoying a bible-read-through plan for the year. I’ve changed versions to the Message Bible this year for a fresh new perspective. The Old Testament is particularly interesting since it now reads like an exciting novel, full of drama, crazy adventures and tons of life lessons.

Last week I finished chapter 6 in Exodus and started reading chapter 7. I’m in the story of Moses and how he had to get over his insecurities to follow God’s plans for him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. These plans included the fact that Moses was told by God to speak to the head honcho in Egypt, Pharaoh. God told Moses exactly what to do, when to do it, and what to say. Moses had some sort of speech impediment which caused him to stutter. God chose Moses to speak regardless of the stutter but did concede and allow Moses to get help from his brother Aaron. Here’s the text:

Exodus 6:30 – 7:1 (Msg)
“And Moses answered, ‘Look at me. I stutter. Why would Pharaoh listen to me?”
God told Moses, “Look at me. I’ll make you as a god to Pharaoh and your brother Aaron will be your prophet. You are to speak everything I command you, and your brother Aaron will tell it to Pharaoh….”

I learned a few lessons here:

1. Where’s my focus?
I was intrigued to notice that Moses began his answer with “LOOK AT ME…” and God began HIS answer saying…you got it…”Look at ME!” When we are about to do something big for God, it’s easy to get lost in our insecurities and fears, but those insecurities can only have power over us if we look at them. Instead of remembering his own stutter, Moses was instructed to look at God and God’s awesome power.
As I continue down this path of health and weight loss, I am often paralyzed with the belief that I am not able to do what I need to do for the rest of my life. And then these beautiful reminders of the focus on God bring me back to a sense of hope.

2. Where’s my help?
Even though God could certainly have decided to have Moses be the head spokesperson with or without his stutter, I love the fact that God still allowed Moses to get help from his brother Aaron.
I was humbled to remember that God knows all about me, and that includes the fact that I need help here on earth, too. And so I continue attending my Weight Watchers meetings; I continue my sweaty workouts too, whether I feel like it that day or not.

3. Who’s in charge?
Moses had a big assignment but God was still in charge of the outcome and the lessons learned along the way. Similarly, I have my own assignment to do what God planned for me, and if I have day-to-day struggles along the way, they are not to get in the way of the big picture. Who’s in charge? God! And for that I’m grateful.

And I thought bible reading might be boring! I look forward to more lessons along the way in these Old Testament stories---how about you?

New Years' Resolution to Lose Weight

2011-01-01T08:08:00.004-05:00

Happy New Year!...?

A lifetime of associating January 1st with weight loss resolutions, and this one is no different. A favorite line of mine: "another new year; another new year's resolution to lose weight..."

Yes, I've lost over one hundred pounds. And yes, I've gained a few of them back. Yes, I say once again this year "another new year; another new year's resolution to lose weight." And yes, I continue to write my memoir "Gain Faith, Lose Weight" and yes, I still pray every single day for help with this weight loss thing and yes, I still go to Weight Watchers' meetings faithfully, and yes, I still work out five days a week.

God knows all that. And He still helps me! Today, I discovered a new book out by an already-favorite author of mine which is my own personal gift of help from God in moving ahead on these last few months of book-writing and losing those last ten or maybe twenty pounds. I will be participating in an online podcast by Lysa TerKeurst based on her book "Made to Crave." It'll start January 10th if you want to join me...check out http://madetocrave.org/webcast/

I still crave God and boy oh boy He always delivers...even more than dark chocolate.

Christmas defined: short and sweet

2010-12-28T15:47:00.004-05:00

My perspectives on Christmas: short and sweet...

In short, I'm focused on remembering the reason for Christmas, and can still enjoy the family time, the relationships, the giggles, and even the tears during these magical weeks. What's the reason? God loves me, and wants a relationship with me. And came on down to my place...so I can be with Him in His place! How cool is that.

Sweet stuff...I have ventured into the art of baking once again. I love the preparation, the precise measuring, the mixing and scraping and blending and waiting...all for the sweet treat that results. I'm waiting, too, for the sweet treat in Jesus' coming again---and the promises of no more pain, no more fears, no more tears.

Short and sweet? It's all about relationships and God's love. Amen!

How do you enjoy your Christmas season?

Rainbow Moments

2010-12-01T15:54:00.001-05:00

One recent morning started like most others: morning coffee, breakfast, the day’s plan in place. A handful of dark gray clouds floated by but their threats of rain were overshadowed by clear brilliance on the horizon. Suddenly, as if someone turned on a giant light switch, it got brighter outside. I was glad I happened to be looking out the window at that moment because in a tiny space of time, no more than ten minutes, a rainbow appeared in all its vivid display of color. Every shade of the ROYGBIV pattern could be clearly identified and I could not stop staring. Then, without a warning, it was suddenly gone.

I had both a mammogram and a colonoscopy this past month (such fun!), and the ten seconds it took for me to read those form letters indicating there were no problems are now to me like the precious “rainbow moment.” I used to take those letters for granted, but recent stories of family and friends fighting cancer help me to appreciate the little things even more.

I think the rainbow is one of God’s ways to interrupt my day filled with uninspiring routines, bills to pay, work to do, errands to run. A rainbow’s colorful display in all its splendor shows me the joy that can be found in my own attitude, regardless of my activity. I, too, can be a colorful display of God’s love, peace and joy in this world.

What do you think about when you see a rainbow?

Tip of the week:
It's time to try something new! (again!) Every once in a while, try a new recipe, a new workout routine, or a new weight watchers program--starts this week!

Turkey Reflections

2010-11-25T08:40:00.001-05:00

Thanksgiving. Tomorrow, we're back to the healthy eating and exercise routine. While reflecting on the Thanksgiving meal, I decided not to gripe about what and how much I might eat, but instead to think about the food as a metaphor for the relationships I crave, particularly at this time of year. Time for this foodie to see the turkey and trimmings in a new way.

The turkey. This is the meat of the traditional Thanksgiving meal. It’s a wonderful food, full of protein, providing me with the strength and nourishment to fuel my muscles for strength and good health. It’s the star of the show on this holiday, and I find it interesting that of all the foods we usually prepare, it’s the simplest. Rinse off, sprinkle a little oil, salt and pepper, and roast. The turkey reminds me of the strongest relationships in my life. My husband, close friends, family. Certain of the people in my life are the ones who are the true fuel for my strength and good health. I know that if I don’t spend the time I need with these protein sources, I get drained more easily and life’s circumstances affect me more than it should. These meaty relationships are simple, but require time.

The stuffing. It’s the flavorful, fun, fill-in stuff. With all its varieties, the stuffing can enhance the turkey with its spiciness. However, the stuffing can also absorb the juices from my primary protein source if I simply stuff too much. Like the big bowl of bread chunks that seems bottomless, I find it interesting that I can stuff way too much into a little space. Volunteerism, guilt, busy-ness, useless traditions. All these and more can provide way too much filling for my good health. It can be tasty and fun, and might fuel me for the short run, but it doesn’t give the long-lasting energy I need to sustain myself.

The cranberry sauce. This sweet enhancement to the Thanksgiving meal is exactly what makes everything else taste a little better. I love to have a bit of sauce with the turkey, with the stuffing, with whatever else ends up on my plate. It’s like my sweet relationships that lack the obligatory side effects of time and attention. They include old high school friends, new friends, temporary acquaintances—all of who add just what I need to enjoy the meat of my life a bit more.

Green. Bean. Casserole. This is an attempt at healthy living gone bad. I’m okay with the green, and even with the green bean, but when it becomes casserole, it becomes a dish I avoid. The healthiness has been masked in creaminess and crunchiness, like the healthy relationships in my life that seem simple but get masked in obligation and need redefining or skipping altogether. There have been seasons in my own life when I held onto a relationship just a bit too long that it became this unsavory side dish, and I have had to make this decision to either change it or skip it to maintain my own health.

The salad, asparagus, or brussel sprouts. There is usually one side dish that retains its simple, healthy state on the Thanksgiving table. The crunchiness and deep green colors of these foods can provide the vitamins and fiber that help us to enjoy the rest of the meal in moderation. I find it interesting that I usually skip eating these foods on Thanksgiving, even if they are on the table. There’s no room left for healthiness on a day devoted to indulgence. There’s a problem, however, when the sense of abundance makes me skip the simplicity of this day which is all about giving thanks. I want to remember not to skip giving thanks on this day, or any day, even if I skip the green stuff.

The pies. The pies epitomize indulgence and sweetness in all its forms: apple, pumpkin, lemon, cherry. The aspect of the pies I appreciate most is the sweetness of the family traditions tied to them. The passing on of the recipes and techniques for pie baking is in itself enough for dessert. I love the traditions and heritage passed on from generation to generation through these desserts. It’s a great finishing touch to a day devoted to thankfulness. This sweet gratitude is the treat for all of our days, not just the holiday season.

I’m full now, how about you? Be blessed this holiday season with the relationships you crave.

My First Spin Class

2010-11-10T15:16:00.002-05:00

Spinning. Who would have thought that a simple exercise like riding a bike at a health club could be so complicated?

My heart was pounding and my forehead was sweating, and the cardio workout hadn’t even started yet. I was introduced to the vivacious and extremely fit instructor, Maria, as well as to my machine: not just any old bike, but a spinning bike. As such, there were several special fittings required: the seat height, the seat location, and the handle height. All three factors were customized so that the bend to my knee and the angle with which I sat on the ‘saddle’ (it’s not an old-fashioned bike seat anymore) were optimized for the most effective use of my leg muscles and glutes during the workout. I had been wanting to try this thing called spinning for years now, and Maria was friendly and made me feel welcome, so I relaxed a little while warming up.

Into the saddle I sat, wondering what the hype was all about. The lights were dimmed, Maria had her microphone in place, the music was started, and we were off.

I quickly learned the spin lingo; and quickly learned why this class is so much fun and yet so challenging—like my faith walk, which is a joy, but can also be challenging. Like my Father God, Maria was there with her spirit, her smile and her encouragement the entire way.

“In the saddle”: this means we are sitting down on the bike seat while pedaling as opposed to standing while pedaling. It reminds me of moving along in my faith walk where I need to put some energy into the movement but can still coast if necessary.

The “sprint”: this is when we are in the saddle but are encouraged to "spin" (pedal) faster. The music helped us with its increased tempo, and we would mentally beat anyone around us who might try to be faster than us. Like those challenges in life where things can get me down---self-doubt, fear, confusion—I can instead choose to take on the challenge by speeding ahead on the path of faith without looking to my right or left.

The “climb”: up out of the saddle we would go, and with increased tension on the gear making the pedals harder to turn, we’d stand and push our way up that mental and physical hill to get to the top. Maria’s constant comments, such as “You can do it!”, “You’re almost there!”, “I’m right there with you!”, all reminded me of the biblical encouragement I get on a regular basis, where I can always find something that relates to my life and reminds me that all my challenges are not new ones, and God helped people before me, and can help me too with those challenges.

“Take a break”: On occasion, Maria instructed us to slow down, get “in the saddle”, and get some water and towel off so we can refuel for the next cardio challenge in the workout. God often gives me a chance to refuel—a chat with a girlfriend, a special note in the mail, and smile from a stranger—these breaks happen just when I need them and in the way I need to keep on going.

“The road”: There were times when Maria would describe for us visually what the biking workout would look like as if we were on the road, for example: we’ll be coasting for a while, then riding faster up a slow incline, then climbing a hill to the top, then another small hill before we go downhill again---all these steps would remain in my mind while she orchestrated the bike movements to go along on the path described. There were other times, however, when she simply surprised us with the road’s challenges, and with her encouraging smile, Maria would remind us she was there with us and told us we could ‘do it’…whether it was to sprint faster or climb higher. I find it interesting that sometimes I have an idea of God’s plans for me, but most of the time I am surprised. What is helpful, though, is the reminder that God is right there with me even in the ‘surprises’ on my road trip, to help me get through those challenges. God shows who He is by example, and like Maria, knows what to expect in the challenges and as a result knows how to help me in those challenges.

My name: so many times during the workout, this previous stranger named Maria would become my caring guide as she said my name during the workout: “How’s it going back there, Lisa?” It was a shock to hear my name, but then again I can say I knew she was watching me whether she said so or not. God, too, is always watching over me, and sometimes mentions my name, but I am reassured to know He always loves and cares about me, personally. Even in the crowded room, I felt noticed.

Tip of the week:
Try spinning, if you haven't already! Next on my list: Zumba!

One of THOSE Days

2010-11-03T14:36:00.001-04:00

Did you ever have one of THOSE days? I did, recently.

It started with the morning routine; coffee, prayers, kids off to school, exercise, work. Some writing time, some organization time, some planning time. A good day so far. Then it happened. The day morphed into one of ‘those’ days—all within a two-hour period. I had to get the kids off the school buses, bring my daughter for a haircut, have my son ready for theater practice, get both kids fed, bring my daughter to a babysitting appointment, and be ready to pick up the kids from theater practice and babysitting at various times. It was a delicate balance of flexibility, timing and patience. I got through the bus stop and bringing my daughter for her haircut, but after the haircut appointment, I realized a flaw in the plan. I didn’t have time to feed my daughter before her next stop—babysitting. I called my son to put a pizza into the oven for himself and thought to myself: yikes, my teenage son is at home with the oven on. Can’t wait to get back there and make sure the house doesn’t blow up. Oh yes, time to feed my daughter. Easy solution: stop at the local Wawa on the way. She and I made the stop and even selected a healthy option for her to eat. Back to the car.

Now, where are those car keys? Not in my pocket; not in my purse. “They’re right there, Mommy!” my daughter said with a smile. Yup, the keys were safely in the ignition…of the locked car. I haven’t locked my keys in the car in years, and today was the time to indulge. I stopped and thought: “Okay, God, I guess you’re reminding me to slow down!”

Schedule planning went into overload; I had a wonderful neighbor who could bring my son to theater practice, my friend picked up my daughter for babysitting, and my hero of a mother-in-law drove to the parking lot with a spare key, in case it was the right one. No, the house didn’t blow up with the oven being on, and no, my mother-in-law didn’t have the correct car key, but she at least had her car for me to ride home with her to pick up my spare key. We then drove back to the parking lot and I was able to bring my car home, just in time to pick up my daughter, and then an hour later, my son.

Whew.

I desperately needed this beautiful prayer, and now enjoy it every morning with my Bible time. It’s adapted from Wilfred A. Peterson and is called “Prayer for a Peaceful Heart.” It will not prevent “those” days from happening, but will keep my response to those days to be one of thankfulness and peace.
“Please Lord, slow me down, ease my pounding heart
Quiet my racing mind, steady my hurried steps
Amidst the confusion of my days
Grant me the calmness of your peace
Help me to know the truly restoring gift of sleep
Teach me the art of taking time off
To slow down to see the beauty in your creation
To chat with a friend
To read a few lines from a good book
Remind me each day that there is more to life than increasing in speed
It is living, each moment, with You and for You
Let me look upwards
Into the branches of a towering oak
And know that it grew slowly and well
Please Lord, slow me down
Teach me to be gentle and humble of heart
Fearing nothing of this world
As you are my Lord
Grant me rest for my soul
Now and eternally with you
Amen.”

On that day, in Wawa’s parking lot, I didn’t look upwards into the branches of a towering oak, but I do remember looking upwards at the power line running across the top of the parking lot. My daughter and I noticed the line of birds sitting up there and we agreed there must have been a bird party going on! It was a beautiful way to refocus and look upwards when otherwise I would have never noticed the birds at all.

Tip of the week:
Slow down! Noticing the beauty of nature and the gift of a shared smile are probably the healthiest suggestions we can follow for joy—even in the middle of ‘those’ days.

It's "Go" Time!

2010-10-20T08:32:00.001-04:00

Back in the early eighties, there was a parachuting fad, and I dove in. Or shall I say: I dove out…of the plane. The end of the story? I landed on the ground with more of a thud than anticipated, but safely nonetheless. The jump itself was triggered with the single command: “Go!”

The one-day-crash-training-course had a single purpose: to help us know what to do when all other systems failed. We each were provided two parachutes. One of the parachutes was strapped to our backs, and was subsequently attached to the plane with a static line. The line released the chute as we left the plane. The most critical piece of equipment was the second parachute, referred to as our “reserve” chutes. These were strapped to the front of our abdomen. This chute was to be deployed if the first chute failed. We were repeatedly taught “Pull, then throw!” “Pull, then throw!” “Pull, then throw!” We were taught to pull that reserve chute out of the pack if necessary, and then throw it away from ourselves as hard as we could so we would not get caught up in the ropes as it opened.

We were also taught the techniques for landing. If we looked straight ahead and not down at the ground as we were landing, we were safer and less prone to broken bones from putting hands and legs out to stop the fall. Again, this was a method taught through repetition: “Jump, then roll!” “Jump, then roll!” “Jump, then roll!” We continued this mantra as we jumped off the five-foot platforms to practice our moves.

The plane ride was next. Packed in like sardines, straddling the bench, we were to exit the plane one at a time. The first person went. All I saw was the blur of her helmet, so I figured she went down, hoping the parachute opened to accompany her. I still remember my racing heart; beads of sweat on my forehead; a lack of ability to swallow. The open door of the airplane seemed to grow larger with each moment. Gulp. My turn. I stood up. “Ready?” the instructor said. A brief nod. With a slap of his palm against my left shoulder, it was “Go” time. I jumped out and dove into nothingness.

Freefalling was incredible. Those five thrilling seconds of weightlessness were worth the work. A strong tug, then I was pulled upward, and thankfully I knew my chute was up. I didn’t need to use the reserve chute. I don’t know if I would’ve remembered “Pull, then throw” at that point either. I continued to float down to the ground. It was an unusual feeling, but also peaceful.

I was thinking about that moment of “Go” time recently. The times before and after the actual jump were fantastic, but “Go” time was that pivot-point where I could have said “No!” Why was it so frightening to jump after all that training? Because I still felt unsure of what would happen. Because, at “Go” time, I felt out of control—the most. This is my new definition of faith—saying “Go” when everything in me wants to say “No!.” Trusting God requires that I trust Him with everything, the training time, the equipment, and even the “Go” time.

The only reason I can say “yes” at “Go” time in my faith is because of what I know about God. I know He loves me and always gives me a safe place to land. No adventure can beat that type of fall. Falling into faith is an exciting, but peaceful, adventure.

Tip of the week:
Pumpkin! It’s pumpkin season and I have been enjoying pumpkin recipes again—low-fat pumpkin bread, pumpkin mousse, pumpkin crème drink, pumpkin in my oatmeal. I think it’s fun to take advantage of seasonal foods which also qualify as vegetables!

Temptations...including Chocolate Candy

2010-10-13T11:41:00.001-04:00

Ahhh…a cool breeze fans my face, crunchy leaves dance with the wind, heat of the sun penetrates my bulky sweatshirt and warms my shoulders. Burning wood, the sweet aroma of a distant fireplace, permeates the air. Autumn’s weather refuels me with its crisp awakening of my senses. Autumn also brings those oh-so-familiar food temptations to mind…including chocolate candy.

Why is there Halloween candy on the store shelves before I’ve finished switching gears from summer to back-to-school mode? Why does a normal display of sweet treats seem more appealing when tiny pumpkins are printed on the packages next to little smiling white ghosts? Is candy corn a vegetable?

I am obsessed with chocolate, especially chocolate candy. All I need is a tiny reminder like the cooler weather, to remind me of this personal problem. I’m also reminded of my candy-management-system for Halloween and my kids, and am excited to implement it again this year. In case you’re not already enlightened, here it is:
Candy In the House: I have learned that it is not okay for me to buy my own favorite candy to supposedly give out to the neighborhood kids, but it simply becomes ‘candy in the house’; a definite no-no for me. I became one of those boring neighbors, who gives something OTHER than the gem of all gems, a full-sized Hershey bar. Instead, my creativity spanned the treat-giving from pencils, to bubble gum, to sugarless gum, to pretzels, to coins. I will, once again, choose to give out something other than chocolate candy.
Candy All Over the Stores: I have learned to shop in the stores differently, by avoiding the candy aisles altogether, or adding some cardio workout to my routine by zipping past them as quickly as possible. I’ll do whatever it takes to deal with this chocolate problem of mine.
Candy From Outside the House: My biggest challenge is dealing with all the candy my kids can collect from the neighbors, and it’s a bigger challenge on rainy Halloweens, like we had last year. That’s when people give out double their candy to be finished with the door-opening with the accompanying rain and wind. Several years ago, I implemented the buy-back system with my kids, where I let them choose a handful of Halloween goodies (to be consumed by them within a week) to keep; the rest of the goodies are then ‘bought back’ by me at a current-year’s rate, usually 10 cents or a quarter per piece. It is fun to see their entrepreneurial spirits kick in along with the usual competitiveness and have them challenge each other for the biggest payout of the year.

What do I do with all that candy? Get rid of it---whatever it takes. Trash, dentist offices (some have a buy-back plan), someone’s desk at an office…anywhere but in my home.

Whew, this battle will be won. Time to strategize for the Thanksgiving goodies and Christmas cookies.

Tip of the week:
If chocolate candy is your addiction, go ahead and try these strategies! We sometimes need to resort to desperate measures for desperate times, don’t we?

If Momma Ain't Happy...

2010-10-06T11:27:00.002-04:00

I have enjoyed the privilege of being involved in women’s ministries for as long as I can remember. Why? I believe that we women need support to be the best we can be as wives, daughters, friends and nurturers. We are made to give and give and give some more, and without each other, we will shrivel up, crumble, and blow away like a fallen autumn leaf. Many years ago, I enjoyed ‘women’s ministries’ in the form of my Mary Kay business, and have enjoyed that role for more than ten years. Now, my women’s ministry role includes bible studies, connection events, and retreats, so that we can refuel.

Why do we women need so much support? Because we are emotional beings!

There’s no doubt about it: my emotional state of being on any given day has a huge impact on the emotional barometer in my home. I strongly believe in being responsible for my own self-care, not to be confused with being self-ish. Self-care means I am taking ownership of what makes me ‘tick’, I am in charge of my passion meter, and I am to harness my emotional needs in a way so I can nurture them. There are three primary self-care methods that keep me sane. First and foremost is my time with God. If I don’t get to sit my bottom down into a chair with that bible on one hand and a pen and paper in the other, my entire day seems scattered. Another favorite variation of self-therapy is a visit to a book store, particularly those which have coffee shops, too, and boy oh boy the fresh-brewed coffee aroma permeating the air, swirling through the smell of fresh, new paper…it’s absolutely heavenly. So if I can’t be with God directly, I’d rather be in a bookstore, or my favorite is the final source of self-therapy: the glittering gem of treasure in self-care: my precious girlfriends. This self-care frees me to meet the needs of others—my husband, children, friends, and family. “If Momma ain’t happy…,” well, you know the rest.

I have engaged in a change in perspective lately, though. Instead of looking at my self-care practices to make sure I have my emotional needs met, I decided to accept a recent challenge which stated that my husband and my children ARE my ministry. Yes, I am involved in a number of ministries, but if I lose sight of my most important ministry—my own husband and kids—nothing else matters. Now my mantra is “If they are all happy, then Momma is happy!” With a focus on them first, while simultaneously keeping a pulse on my own self-care meter, I can know that who I am and what I do are making a difference. Making a difference in my home is where it all starts; then I know I am making a difference in the world. I think it’s what we all might want: to make a difference. I thank God for this new perspective.

Tip of the week:
Don’t quit! I speak frequently about losing weight and persevering, but when the rubber meets the road, there is always a place where we all want to quit. It’s too hard. It takes too long. It’s not fun anymore. The only way to fail in weight loss, or any challenge in life, is to quit. That fact alone keeps me going. Even if I’m messing up, again, I am committed not to quit.

Puzzle Glue

2010-09-22T19:27:00.000-04:00

School started again and my teenage son made a statement that created another puzzle piece for my life as a mom. “I’m okay, Mom”, he said.”You don’t have to walk me to the bus stop anymore.” Yes, I knew this day was coming. No, I wasn’t as prepared as I anticipated.

Like a thousand-piece puzzle in which I have become fragments of a whole, I continue to mold myself together one small section at a time. To move forward in the stages of letting go is never an easy thing, but I have observed those before me who survived. I can survive it, too. I place another curved edge neatly next to one of the other puzzle pieces for him. As a toddler, he took his first wobbly steps towards freedom. Another piece: the sleepover birthday party. And now: the independent walk to the bus stop.

The puzzle pieces are as varied as the roles I play as a mom. I’m a cook, referee, chauffeur, nurse and disciplinarian. Those various roles are like the various sections of the puzzle—the edges, the middle, the colorful part. Letting go—that’s the part of the puzzle I find most challenging. The puzzle pieces are all the same color and the only clue left is the shape. But all the shapes look the same, and one little step at a time, I test each piece to see if it fits.

The lines of separation are faded by the puzzle glue that is the unconditional love I am blessed to experience as a mom. If I stay in one piece, it’s only because of this love, the puzzle glue holding it all together.

Tip of the week:
Need a boost of fresh motivation for your eating challenges? Get out! When I get out of the house, get out to a support group, get out to a bookstore or a movie, or someplace that rejuvenates my true self, the food issues seem to lessen for a little while. Sometimes it’s all I need.

DIving In!

2010-09-08T18:38:00.003-04:00

"I'm diving in, I'm going deep, in over my head I want to be..." Stephen Curtis-Chapman challenged my faith with this incredibly powerful song again this week. We are challenged to take that leap of faith, not just over the edge, but into the water that's over our head. Wow.

When we're underwater, things look different. Things are quiet. Things are tuned out, but present. I want to make my prayer life deeper, too. My quiet time can be quiet-er time. My sense of peace can be even more peaceful. When I pray, I can go over the edge of the surface prayer requests and let God see my heart. It's diving in over my head, and not just to the shallow end up to waist level that makes the difference in my perspective. I don't want to just get wet in that water; I want a new view.

Wanna dive in with me?

Letting Go in the Rain

2010-08-25T20:00:00.001-04:00

On a recent road trip, I had the coveted passenger seat while my skilled driver for a husband navigated our way through many miles in a torrential downpour. Me? I would have pulled over and waited out the storm. There is a certain amount of visibility I desire while driving, and this rainstorm didn’t allow for much to be seen.

This recent trip had way more rain that I was used to seeing and I frequently found myself engaging in as many personal relaxation techniques as I could remember. Look off to the side and not at the road in front of me. Breathe slowly. Think positive thoughts. This time, I raised the bar—I prayed our way through the storms. Quietly, of course. I worked hard at being silent. I wanted to say “Why don’t you pull over?” but instead I sent my quiet thoughts upward. God, help us. God, protect our family. God, don’t let us hydroplane. God, let my husband choose to pull over. (Okay, so I want to have some control here but I think God understands.) God, protect us as if in a bubble. God, let that truck behind us slow down.

And then it hit me. I needed to trust. I needed to trust my husband’s driving ability and I needed to trust God. This trust required that I look somewhere other than what it was that was worrying me. I needed to simply go along for the ride and my only job was to turn off the crazy thoughts. Sounds so easy and yet it is so difficult to do.

By the way, I had one final prayer that afternoon. Thank you, God. The rain cleared.

Tip of the week:
Slow down. Slowing down to think about what I eat and slowing down while I am eating are both tips I need to remember for success in maintaining my health. I think it’s good to slow down while driving in a torrential rainstorm too.

Recipe for Disaster

2010-08-18T14:00:00.002-04:00

I love to bake. Always have. Why? Because I love to eat. Still do, after losing over 100 pounds. My favorite? Sweets—in any way, shape or form.

There’s a downside to baking, though. Maintaining my weight loss of over 100 pounds requires that I change how often I indulge in this fun hobby. I can’t afford to bake, and eat, the oven-fresh deliciousness of cakes, cookies and breads on a regular basis. Yes, I still bake from time to time but far less often than I used to.

A recent family celebration gave me an excuse for the fun opportunity to bake again! The cake: an old-time classic called “1-2-3-4 Cake” for my mother-in-law’s birthday. This beautifully large white cake, topped with homemade frosting, is an indulgent result of the simple recipe with a few ingredients.

There was one problem, though. The recipe itself.

You see, I have attempted to bake this cake dozens of times over the years, and it never quite worked. Instead of a cake, I’d get a pancake. Why can’t I get this simple cake to work properly? I tried again for the birthday event. I pulled out the slightly stained and bent index card from the recipe box with the familiar handwriting of a family friend listing the ingredients and instructions. I engaged in some of my favorite activites: I stirred, blended, poured, tested, baked, cooled and frosted, and then it was time to cut the cake.

It fell. Again.

This time, I decided to check the recipe itself. I never considered the recipe to be a problem before, since it was a hand-printed treasure from my wedding shower. I still have the collection of recipes I received along with the shower gifts that day, and many of them are old-time favorites like this cake recipe. But every time I baked this cake, and it fell, I checked and fixed all the usual potential problems: my oven temperature, the ingredients themselves, and the length of time to bake the cake.

Onto the internet I went. Recipe research resulted in one simple flaw in my version: my recipe indicated that I should beat the final batter for TWENTY minutes before baking. This is unusually long, but a dense cake, like this one, can require this length of time for the proper batter consistency. I never questioned it. My research, on the other hand, corrected the flaw. It became evident that the final batter is to be mixed for TWO minutes, not TWENTY. One little zero—from a two to a twenty, and my recipe problem is solved.

I think it’s funny how one little flaw, one little zero, can make a big difference. Years and years of trying to make this cake with the wrong recipe produced the wrong results.

It’s like this in life, too. If I proceed with the wrong recipe for success, I will surely get the wrong results. Every time. This cake-baking experience reminds me to be concerned with the little things in life more often. There are little zeros that can make all the difference. For me, those little zeros are habits like giving a smile to a person I pass on the street, letting the other car pass me on the road, slowing down to give my family members a hug, noticing the flowers in bloom in the neighborhood. Little things like reminding my husband I love him, making sure to take my morning Bible time, and thanking God all along for everything, even flopped cakes.

Tip of the week:
When I am tempted while making favorite treats, like 1-2-3-4 Cake, I make sure to pop a piece of gum in my mouth to help remind me not to lick the batter. The chewing gum trick comes in handy at other times, too, like cooking dinner.

Bumper Car Insights

2010-08-11T09:26:00.001-04:00

It’s summertime and with it comes the amusement park excursions. Recently, I visited an amusement park with an old-time feel; it has been in existence since the 1940’s and is still thriving due to the family-oriented, relaxed environment combined with amusement park rides of decades past. It’s fun to ride on the same type of carousel, tilt-a-whirl and teacup I rode as a kid. The true classic that struck a chord with me was the bumper cars.

I’m not 20 years old anymore; that single fact helped me to decide against going on the bumper cars. Yes, they’re fun, but I wasn’t up for the jolting impact of a stranger’s ride slamming me into my next chiropractic adjustment. It was a blast, however, watching the riders. I noticed two types of bumper car drivers: those who look for the most ‘bumping’ opportunities and enjoy slamming their cars into as many people as possible. The second: those who enjoy driving the car around and around and avoiding the jammed collisions of the first type. What’s interesting? Both types of people are smiling. They both engage in this same ride with different focuses and yet still have the time of their lives.

It’s like that in life: we’re all on the same ride, potentially going in circles. We all have choices to make—do we ‘slam’ the others or ride around in circles with the intention to avoid the collisions? Even though both types of people are smiling, I’ve learned that the shared smiles do not imply shared experiences. It’s personal, whether we think it’s fun to go in circles or collide. The only common factor is seeking after the fun. It’s pretty obvious: no one choose the bumper car ride to have an experience that won’t make them smile. In life, we have choices on how we ride our own circles of experience: with a smile. I pray we are all blessed with those smiles today.

Tip of the week:
Need more water!? Use a straw! We all know it’s important for our health and hydration, especially on hot summer days, to drink a lot of water. Sometimes it’s hard to drink the amount of water we need. I found it’s easier to drink faster when using a straw. I don’t know why, but it works. Try it out!

Restart Rainbow

2010-07-21T09:47:00.000-04:00

I have a lot of scriptures that are favorites as my lifeline for each new morning when it’s time to start over on the food battles for the day. Some days are uneventful; even peaceful, and for those I’m thankful. Other days are simply challenges from the moment I wake up---from that first bite at breakfast I’m ready to eat anything that hasn’t moved. Those are the days where this ‘starting over’ concept is most helpful. The next morning and the new start is always a blessing.

Starting over is colorful, like the colors of a rainbow. The rainbow scheme reminds me of the emotional ride through the day that can accompany the new day’s eating regimen. Let me travel through the colors with you:
RED – the starting over is bold, and daring, like this bold color; there’s some pain involved. It’s here I can remember how I went off track with my eating the day before and need to accept it and move on.
ORANGE – next I sense the brightness of a new harvest; it’s time to cash in on a new experience for the day.
YELLOW -- I’m joy-filled and excited for these new chances in this new day.
GREEN – As the new day continues I can feel mellow/ calm and steady; I maintain the refueling that a new start brings.
BLUE – I feel peaceful; as the day proceeds, I can either maintain this peace, or start to feel ‘down’
INDIGO – a dark color reflecting a darker mood as I reflect on this day’s events and how I handled food choices accordingly. I’m either melancholy or reflective.
VIOLET – the deepest but possibly the most beautiful color of all; this color represents the beautiful complexity of emotions that accompany the eating cycle of the day.

It’s God and his grace that keeps me going. Psalm 5:3 (NLT) “Listen to my voice in the morning, LORD.
Each morning I bring my requests to you and wait expectantly.” Yay, God!

Tip of the week:
Restart every day, every meal, or every hour if you need to. But simply restart. The only way to fail is to quit.

Moderation Schmoderation

2010-07-14T09:55:00.000-04:00

Still on the rollercoaster ride—not the amusement park of the beach resorts or any of the Great Adventure parks, but my own Great Adventure on the ride of moderation in my eating habits.

Food is still an addiction for me. It’s like an old friend and an enemy at the same time. The worst kind of enemy is one who hangs closely with me, every day; I cannot choose to knock it out of the park and skip it altogether—which is why I constantly struggle with figuring out how to live with it. The all-or-nothing discipline doesn’t work with food in the long run; the need to face moderation head-on becomes necessary for success. The skills for losing these 100 pounds are different from the skills I’m using to maintain the loss. One of those skills is this dreaded “m” word: moderation.

Moderation is not fun to me. It requires more discipline than any all-or-nothing training can provide. I realize, however, after all these years of regular exercise, which I honestly don’t enjoy, that I have learned the skill of moderation by continuing to stick to a routine. Perhaps, just perhaps, this skill can be transferred to eating food. If I can engage in something I generally dislike (exercise), and still continue to participate in it, then maybe I can use these same skills with something I love (food)!

A fortune cookie saying I mentioned in a prior blog and I’ll mention again: “Everything in moderation, including moderation.” Now that’s another concept altogether. Time for a snack.

Tip of the week:
Water! I have found that there are many times when I think I’m hungry that I’m not---I’m actually thirsty instead. This is another reason I will grab a drink of water first before diving into the meal or a snack; it helps clarify whether my body ‘needs’ the food or simply ‘wants’ it!

Who's the Cop Chasing?

2010-07-07T08:31:00.001-04:00

It’s time to drive more cautiously; y’know—stay within the speed limit. No, no speeding tickets for me recently, but SOMEone out there got them.

Two driving occasions: the first one—I was driving along on a highway, just around (okay, above) the speed limit, but going with the flow of traffic. I’m somewhat attentive but somewhat mindless. My attention span increases exponentially with the bright flashing lights of the cop car in my rearview mirror. Not a fun sight. The ‘uh-oh-did-I-get-caught’ thoughts went flying through my mind; admittedly, the ‘oh, man, how much is this going to cost me?’ thoughts were in there too. Seconds later, the police car passes me on the left to chase someone way out in front. Whew.

Second driving occasion: inching slowly on a congested road in town; again, I’m somewhat attentive but somewhat mindless. A police car is off to the right shoulder of the road in front of me. Within seconds, he puts on his flashers and cuts out in traffic in front of me to go after someone up ahead. At least this time I was sure I wasn’t speeding.

I am still thinking about these incidents because they remind me that the rules haven’t changed; I simply didn’t get caught. How many of us are living like this---somewhat attentive but somewhat mindless? The rules I speak of here are the speed limit signs; decades of driving experience dictate that I am aware of speed limit signs and what they mean. Decades of driving experience does not change the fact that I am to adhere to these signs. Even when I’m staying within the rules, as in the second example when I was driving slowly, I could still be more attentive to the signs.

Why mention all this? I know it’s the same with my weight loss journey and with my faith journey. Like the driving, I need to continue to be alert with my weight and faith; to be more than somewhat attentive and not at all mindless; to not only know the rules but to follow them too. The wakeup call of a police officer’s flashing lights are occasionally needed as reminders, but I’m planning to make sure I don’t need too many of those reminders. God is there every morning and so am I, talking with Him. That should be enough of a reminder.

Tip of the week:
Keep it simple! In these summer months, preparing and cooking meals can be challenging for our schedules as well as our heat levels! I find salads, quick-fix sandwiches and simple fruits and vegetables to be a helpful resource, particularly now.

Skinny Minnie

2010-06-30T12:43:00.000-04:00

Several months ago, I had an experience while attending a conference at a hotel that I still can’t wrap my mind around: a stranger called me “Skinny Minnie.”

I had just finished a sweaty, refueling one-hour workout at the hotel’s fitness room and decided to finish my morning with breakfast at the lobby buffet (before I took my shower!)

“Wow,” the waitress said to me, “I wish I had the chance to work out too. Then I could be a Skinny Minnie like you are!” I chuckled nervously and thanked God for the reminder not to go too crazy on the buffet food. The reason for my sense of being uncomfortable, though, was that I have never been called “Skinny Minnie” in my life and didn’t know what to do with the label. I was stunned, actually, particularly since the waitress was small-to-average sized but still asked me for advice. I didn’t get it.

What I do get is that I look and feel better than I did before. It has been years since I’ve stayed thinner, but I am still getting used to this new ‘me’. I even look normal and blend in; I find I’m almost invisible as an average-sized person. But to be set apart as Skinny Minnie was unsettling; it was as uncomfortable as the time I couldn’t ride the kiddie amusement park ride with my son because I was too large. As for the waitress: I was no smaller than she was. Her comment to me was simply a reflection of her own perspective on how she looked and felt, not how I looked. No matter what our size, it’s the size we have of ourselves in our minds that seems more tangible than the view in the mirror. Our mind’s mirrors are distorted with years of insecurities, expectations, and self-esteem all wrapped around the outer layer of our selves that contain the sense of who and what we are, regardless of our outward appearances. We want to separate the physical from our intellectual and emotional selves, but we cannot. As I continue to wander down the path to self-identity as an average-sized person, I continue to blend the various parts of myself into a complete being.

Despite being uncomfortable, I am grateful for the “Skinny Minnie” comment; it gave me the chance to share my story of losing over 100 pounds with that waitress. It gave me a chance to share my faith journey, and to remind her that she was beautiful just as she was. I find it interesting to have the opportunity for a conversation simply because my t-shirt was sweaty. Time for a shower.

Tip of the week:
Taking the time to work out on a regular schedule, despite the time of year or vacation plans, is key for my sanity and commitment to being healthy. Endorphins aside, I always feel better in so many ways after my workouts. When I don’t feel like starting my workout, I remember it feels better when I’m finished, and with that reminder it’s easier to begin.

Speed Limit 45. (part 2)

2010-06-23T11:57:00.002-04:00

Last week’s blog post referred to an unusual speed limit sign. Instead of the customary “Speed Limit 45” out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a sign that said something extra. It said: “Speed Limit 45. This IS your warning.”

I continue the warning theme this week with some reflections on that sign. I’ve noticed more speed limit signs since then, all of which simply state the speed limit number. I continue to ponder the implicit warnings, however and ask myself: What do I need to pay attention to? What is my warning sign, really?

One easy way to reflect on my life’s priorities is to consider what I would do today if it literally was the last day of my life on earth. Geneen Roth writes some wonderful pieces in her Good Housekeeping essays which discuss food and health issues; one such article referred to “priority-setting” exercises she uses in her food addictions workshops. Geneen described a workshop exercise where participants are asked to list what they would do differently if they knew they had only one year left to live. Then they list what they’d do differently with only six months left to live. Then three months. Then one month. One week. One day.

Keeping a focus on these one-day items on my own mental list helps me know why I wouldn’t want to need another warning sign to accompany the familiar “Speed Limit 45” message. My one-day list includes my faith. Prayer time. Slowing down. Purpose-filled activities. Family time including lots of snuggling with my husband and kids. One thing Geneen noticed is that her workshop attendants included “eating anything they want”, “bingeing”, “chocolate” and similar entries in their one-year and six-month lists, but as the timing got shorter and hit the one-week and one-day levels, the bingeing wasn’t on the list anymore. When we know that our time is really short, we don’t want to waste it on our food obsessions. My own personal warning: if I had one day to live, bingeing would not be on my one-day list. And so I proceed along my process, one slow step at a time, to reducing my food obsessions and increasing my faith obsessions. I want to take my warning signs seriously.

Tip of the week:
My very favorite way to start the day is my prayer time. After that, though, I exercise! I exercise regularly because I need to exercise, NOT because I love it. Like other activities which are NOT my favorite, I find getting them done early in the day (along with filing paperwork, paying bills and planning dinner!) can make them easier to accomplish and frees my mind for enjoying the rest of my day!

Speed Limit 45. This IS Your Warning.

2010-06-16T16:52:00.001-04:00

“Be careful. I love you.” It’s what my Dad always says when I leave the house.

On a recent road trip, I noticed an unusual speed limit sign. Instead of the customary “Speed Limit 45” out of the corner of my eye, I saw something extra. It said: “Speed Limit 45. This IS your warning.”

How interesting, I thought. A speed limit sign with a message attached. Actually, multiple messages come to mind. Today’s message relates to a lifetime of my dad’s cautionary reminders. “Be careful!” my dad always said as I rushed out the door to test my new-found driving skills at the ripe old age of 16. Now, almost 35 years later, he says “Be careful. I love you.” I realize that the “I love you” add-on is the real message. It’s not only about reflecting his fear, but also about sharing his concern and love for me when he reminds that he hopes I return from another driving road trip with all my limbs—heck, my life—intact.

Most of my life I have been aware of my dad’s cautionary nature. “Don’t trip.” “Watch out.” “Don’t drop it.” Of course, I usually did trip, or drop whatever it was I was carrying. The mental images come from the second half of message itself; instead of telling me what not to do, it might’ve been more effective if he suggested what I should do instead. The speed limit sign interests me in its reminder that I often take the common messages out there to simply be precursors to the real warnings. When we’re children, the idea of a warning system is appropriate, but as adults, it’s a challenge and a priority to kick up my attention a bit so that the familiar signs serve to be the warnings in my life, too.

My own message today is a reflective one of gratitude for my father, despite his cautionary warnings over and over in my life, on this week leading up to Father’s Day in which I honor and celebrate him. I celebrate the love that underlies the warning messages; I celebrate the care, concern and loyalty with which he always stands by his family, and I celebrate the familiar messages that include the follow-up meaning: “I love you” whether or not those precious words are actually spoken.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you.

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Tip of the week:
Watch out for those familiar “FOOD” messages in television commercials! If I find the commercials triggering suggestions about eating that I choose to avoid, I simply turn off the TV temporarily, or breeze through the commercials by fast-fowarding through them on pre-recorded shows.

Prayer is a Commitment and it takes Time

2010-06-09T17:00:00.001-04:00

I had the privilege of speaking at the church ministry in Allentown called RiPPLE where Pastor Tom and the Ripple-rs inspired and encouraged each other with stories of ‘ripple’ effects; sharing how one good deed can lead to another, and particularly when we are following God’s will in our lives, the results are amazing. I presented my “Gain Faith, Lose Weight” concept including tips on how to pray with a greater focus on God and see the resulting increase in faith for ourselves. One of the key points in the talk is this: Prayer is a commitment, and it takes time.

For today, I am taking the time to expand on this concept in the hope that the inspiration to hang in there with prayer can be shared and reinforced.

All great stories, including mine where I’ve lost over 100 pounds within five years with God’s help, have at their core, a significant event; a turning point. There is no way to make great strides in this world whether it be in relationships, in personal goals, in quality of life, without a turning point where we discover for ourselves that the pain of change is actually less than the pain of remaining the same.

Those turning points in our lives can be triggered by prayer. I observe that when we’re in our deepest crises and in our highest joys in life, there’s a natural response “God, help!”, or “Thank you, God!” Why not implement this same desire in the mediocre parts of our life journeys; the straightaways on the roller coaster of life, where it seems nothing is happening but actually the energy to ride up or down that hill is being built. Prayer is critical, not only in the highs and lows of life, but all those points in between. And so the concept: Prayer is a commitment, and it takes time---comes into play.

I have found that a turning point in my life combined with the commitment to prayer is truly powerful. This prayer commitment is its own time scheduler; there is nothing else in my life that can or should interfere with it. Only then does the prayer “work” for me; only then do I know I’m on the right path, at least.

If I’m not committed, or if I’m not willing to put the time into it, my prayer life becomes stale; mundane; ineffective. All it takes is a mustard seed of commitment and a small time slot of my day, and I am back on track. Life, with its ups and downs, is still a smoother ride. Amen!

RiPPLE Ministry: guest speaker this Sunday!

2010-06-02T15:50:00.000-04:00

Announcing a new Meetup for RiPPLE -The Lehigh Valley Emerging Christianity Meetup!

What: First Sunday Celebration featuring Lisa Tomarelli - potluck supper follows after

When: Sunday, June 6, 2010 4:00 PM

Where:
The Caring Place
931 Hamilton Street
Allentown, PA 18101
(610) 433-4680

Gain Faith, Lose Weight?
is a concept developed by Lisa Tomarelli. who spent more than 40 years of her life struggling with weight issues. Naturally goal-oriented, she battled to lose weight through diets, exercise and self-help systems?yet she failed year after year.

Then something changed: she lost more than a hundred pounds. In addition, she has kept it off. Her secret? Faith.

This is still a faith journey for Lisa, every day. Through her ?Gain Faith, Lose Weight?? program, she invites others to walk by her side. Her message: through prayer, God?s love is abundant enough to help us all!

Come and hear Lisa's inspiring story. Feel free to check out her website ahead of time at, www.lisatomarelli.com.

Following our meeting we will be holding a potluck supper for those who attend our meeting. Bring something to share with the rest of the group. We'll be welcoming our summer intern who will be joining us beginning on June 6th.

See you there!

Learn more here:
http://www.meetup.com/RIPPLE/calendar/13642748/

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Barstool, Barbeque or Church Pew?

2010-05-26T10:29:00.002-04:00

There’s a local bar in my neighborhood that is directly across the street from a church; I pass it every week when attending my own church which is a bit further down the same road. I recall one day several years ago when my young daughter and I waited in traffic and watched as the people left their church to walk across the street to get to their cars which were parked in the lot behind the bar. She didn’t realize the parking lot was there and asked: “Why does everyone leave church and go to that bar afterwards?” I laughed. Ohhh, so many responses to that one. Instead, I acted responsibly and explained that there was a parking lot there and the people were going to their cars, not the bar.

Some thoughts I read recently on the local bar from Chuck Swindoll’s book, “Encourage Me”:
“The neighborhood bar is possibly the best counterfeit there is to the fellowship Christ wants to give to His church. It’s an imitation, dispensing liquor instead of grace, escape rather than reality, but it is a permissive, accepting, and inclusive fellowship. It is unshockable. It is democratic. You can tell people secrets and they usually don’t tell others or even want to. The bar flourished not because most people are alcoholics, but because God has put into the human heart the desire to know and be known, to love and be loved, and so many seek a counterfeit at the price of a few beers.”

I am reminded of the need for fellowship, bonding, being known and being loved as we near the first holiday event of this summer—Memorial Day weekend. It brings to mind the concept of remembering those who serve our country, but it is also about gatherings, whether they be at the barbeque, the bar or church. Why do we get together? We simply want and need each other—to know and be known, to love and be loved. The gatherings we have in our churches are breathtakingly beautiful when the connections made there are safe, accepting and inclusive. Aware of my bias, I attend my own church, Daybreak Community Church (www.enjoydaybreak.com) because I know these types of connections can be made there. Our church has always worked towards being this type of environment which means more to me than the building or the organ music—because true fellowship and connecting can heal and bring hope in our otherwise busy, crazy world.

Tip of the week:
It’s finally sunny---and taking our workouts outside can be a welcome change. When I enjoy my workouts outside, whether it is to play some tennis or go for a walk, I get a double-dose: sunshine and sweat—a perfect combination!

Thoughts on Bread

2010-05-19T18:30:00.000-04:00

Mmmm. Crusty bread from the oven, steaming hot, ready to be slathered with butter. There’s nothing like it. Baking homemade bread is a simple process with simple ingredients: flour, water, eggs, and the most critical ingredient of all—yeast.

Ironically, I find that the interesting thing about the yeast is that it’s rather boring in and of itself. Those little packets we get at the grocery store are unassuming. Open one, and not much seems to be going on in there. Mix it up in the right proportions with just a few other ingredients, though, and the result is not only a tasty bread, but a bread that has risen to more than double its original size because of the chemical reactions between the ingredients, including the yeast.

The requirement for this chemical reaction resulting in bread that has risen to its indulgent fluffiness is patience. Once the ingredients are mixed, they need to sit. And so we wait. And wait. And wait. This waiting period is like the various preparation periods in our lives where we don’t know what to do; where to go next, whether it be a job, a relationship or a decision. The waiting is critical though. It’s critical for the yeast to work with the other ingredients; it’s also critical for me to understand what my next move should be according to God’s plan, and that involves waiting.

Only in the waiting can I be prepared to move to the next stage: the stage when the heat is on. For the bread that has risen, it’s oven time. In the heat of the oven the bread finishes to perfection in all its crustiness; rises to its maximum doughiness, and becomes ready for the table in its best form yet. When I take the time to wait, I can take the ‘heat’ of life more easily. I will not only withstand the tough stuff, but thrive instead. Like the baked bread, I can become more than what I was when I started, and still be a perfect combination of the ingredients that make me who I truly am.

Tip of the week:
Salsa! Okay, whether it’s the salsa dance to add to your exercise repertoire, or the salsa condiment to top off your potatoes or scrambled eggs, it always works for some extra spice in the perfect format to enhance any weight loss effort. Enjoy!

Mr. Martin's Marbles

2010-05-12T07:00:00.000-04:00

There’s a Mr. Martin in every neighborhood. You know: the old man or old lady who’s alone and once they catch anyone’s ear, the stories begin. In this case, Mr. Martin is almost 90 years young, whose wife died a few years ago, and who can remember every last detail of his childhood, challenges and choices in life. He’s from the “what’s the world coming to?” era and can remember times when there were no coins to rub together; not just being poor, but destitute. The Depression did that. There were lessons to learn and along the way, basic needs to be met, destitute or not.

One recent story I heard from Mr. Martin revolved around one of his favorite childhood games: marbles.

He could still remember the one and only time he actually had to punch somebody. There was another kid—a bully—who was stealing the other kids’ marbles. And one day, it was Mr. Martin’s marbles he was after. As one who generally prefers to avoid conflict, the young Mr. Martin startled the bully and himself by punching him in the nose to get his marbles back. The kid dropped all the marbles, including his own. Mr. Martin picked up his marbles and left.

The clincher? Mr. Martin said he wondered if that kid ever went back to get his own marbles again. Mr. Martin picked up his own marbles after the fight and left the rest—the marbles that belonged to the bully—in that very same spot.

What started as a lesson in dealing with bullies ended as a lesson for me to see yet another side of Mr. Martin—the one with integrity. Honesty and integrity are not just skills, they are character traits.

I’m so glad Mr. Martin still has his marbles.
=========================================================
Tip of the week:
We all need each other to help us in our health and weight loss efforts. When the going gets tough, call a friend! The distraction and the delay may be helpful in avoiding a potential binge.

Shattered Glass

2010-05-05T07:00:00.004-04:00

Recently, I've been reminded that as I eat less, I want to scream more. Here's a fiction piece to remind myself that I need to watch my words, too, not just what I eat:

==================================================================================

"You make me sick!"

She watched as her son instantly withered into a dried-out autumn leaf. The promise of his newfound interest in archery crumbled under the heavy footprint of her words. She looked at those shoulders which were just starting to display the broad frame of the man he would become and the slight fuzz of darkness across his upper lip. He sunk into his favorite spot on the sofa and said "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to lose the arrow."

She was so excited to finally have a hobby to share with her son, who desperately needed his father in his life right now--and spent all her extra cash from the coffee can to buy him his first quiver, bow and handmade arrows with feathers in his favorite color--green.

She had so many words to say, to scream, to yell, to whisper, and yet the fewest of them created the most damage--the shattered glass of her son's soul was about to crumble into a messy heap. She knew she needed another outlet for those words; it was the only way to pick up the broken pieces, even if not to put them together.

She opened the phone book and found the listings under 'P'. Psychiatrists.

=================================================================================

Tip of the week: Do whatever it takes--scream, yell, run around the block--to walk away from the fridge when it's clear that the answer is not in there!

Mountain Madness part 3: Coming DOWN

2010-04-28T10:22:00.004-04:00

Whew. A group of us climbed up the mountain, enjoyed the view from the top, and now it’s time to head back down.

Wait a minute. I don’t want to go down. I don’t want to head back to the place I was before; I don’t want to deal with hectic schedules, another day of running around, heading off crises while taking care of a family and a home and, oh yea, myself. This trek up a mountain with the beautiful view from the top leaves me changed. I see this experience as one of those times in life I cannot remain the same. For now, though, I need to simply hold onto that experience like another item in my backpack, and take the challenge of heading back down the mountain.

My friend said it was steep. The signs say it’s steep. But I didn’t know “steep” until I was going backwards down the rock formations to get to the next lower level. Like before, I was given suggestions to help my footing—walk sideways, take small steps, have one foot braced before moving the other—but I was taking those suggestions more seriously this time. I was trying to remember any scripture that could be dusted off in my memory about standing on rocks or having my feet grounded, and all I could think of was “trust in the Lord.” Yikes. Can’t I do that while standing on level ground? Apparently not, sometimes. Sometimes I need to be heading down the sliding board of a mountainside to realize that I am truly freaked out. I was actually quiet since I couldn’t talk and concentrate at the same time.

Trust and gratitude. It was about all I could feel—trust that God will get me back down because there’s nothing left to trust, and gratitude for my friends and their practical tips along the way. They even helped out by carrying some of my things—my water bottle, the camera.

It really is the same as life, isn’t it? When things are tough and I’m freaked out beyond my own abilities, it’s then that I know God will show up. And He even sends my friends to help me out, not in those intangible “I’ll pray for you” ways, but hands-on help by carrying my load, and practical tips and suggestions on making the way easier, safer, smoother. In these mountain reflections, I’m reminded that I want to seek after God’s presence in my life on level ground, too. I know God is there, but I forget. This mountain madness adventure was a much-needed reminder about dependence on God. Trust and gratitude; so simple but so challenging.

Tip of the week:
Last week, I suggested something “new” in the routine to boost health/fitness goals; this week, I’m suggesting we try something “old”. We all have a favorite food item, walking path, recipe or technique that has worked for us in the past—let’s do that again. For me one of those old techniques was to pray to God and promise that I wouldn’t blow it with my eating that day (or that hour, or that minute—whatever it takes!)—I can do that again, and again, and again—whatever it takes!

Mountain Madness part 2: At the Top

2010-04-21T09:36:00.002-04:00

The view from the top of a mountain. Breathtaking. Silent. Overwhelming. Colorful. Dizzying. Misty. Bigger than myself.

I continue this discussion of my recent adventure hiking up a mountain during a retreat to consider the view from the top. As I was climbing, I remember thinking: just get to the top, just get to the top. That focus helped me to keep going, despite the fear of heights that permeated the core of my being. “Just get to the top” helped to override the thought “One slip and I’ll fall wayyyyy down.” For some, it’s not heights, but other fears—no matter what the fear, it can override our rational thoughts in any circumstance. The view from the top was my reward for pushing through the fears. And boy, was it beautiful.

It was interesting to see the treetops from the top. Hey, when I look at a tree, I see the top, but from the ground instead. It reminds me how I see life’s situations from a certain angle, but forget I can see the same thing from another perspective with new clarity and insight. It was also fun to be higher up, and though my intellect knew I wasn’t actually in the clouds, my imagination let me think I was. And what if a bird flew by and I was in its path? Waterfalls also look way different from the top than from the side of the mountain. I wonder what else I need to view from the top: perhaps my goals in life, my relationships, my daily decisions, and my desire for control. Oh yea, it’s God who’s in control, and God’s view from the top has a clarity that I’ll never understand, but I can imagine is beautiful; breathtaking; peaceful.

Our group shared a prayer circle up there; and although I know my God is everywhere, at the top and at the bottom of a mountain, I can say it felt like we were truly closer to God. The dependence on Him at the top, to hold us up, to be that Rock I was standing on, to stop and notice His presence, was worth the hike. Really.

In 2 Samuel 22:32-34 (NIV) it says: “For who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God? It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; he enables me to stand on the heights.” There’s no way to be up there without a prayerful moment. Those are the moments that keep me going, whether up or down the mountain, and it’s for those moments I’m always grateful.

Tip of the week:
When the going gets tough and I need new motivation for my health and weight loss goals, I find something new: a new Scripture to put on my fridge, a new recipe, a new fruit or vegetable to try, or a new exercise routine adjustment. This newness reminds me I’m always starting over and keeps me going in the many restarts.

Mountain Madness part 1: Going UP

2010-04-14T09:30:00.002-04:00

Ingredients:
- A group of women at a retreat near the Pocono Mountains
- A clear blue sky
- Brisk, spring breezes
Combine at low speed with a large block of free time and you have your recipe for a long mountain hike.

This city girl was all set to stay in at the quiet, roomy lodge. Y’know: relax, perhaps do a DVD workout, read, or watch a movie. Somehow the idea of a hike, which was furthest from my mind as a free time activity, made it into the realm of possibility and I surprised myself when I agreed to join the group on the “Nature Trail.”

The first stage of this trail walk was the path UP. Hmmm: “Nature Trail.” It sounded safe. It sounded like it was only slightly adventuresome. It sounded like a slow but steady trek along a clearly defined flat path where I could possibly view interesting grasses, flower buds, or an unusual bird or two. It sounded safe, I thought.

About twenty minutes into the walk, my panting and sweating confirmed that there was nothing flat about this trail. While picking across some rocks alongside the stream, I wanted to stop and really look at the beauty around me. But I couldn’t. Why? There was quite a way to look—DOWN. I finally admitted to my fellow hikers that I’m afraid of heights, especially these kinds of heights, where a slight misstep or unstable rock could send one of us careening into the depths below.

Suddenly, I was surrounded. Both in front of me and behind me, a couple of women watched my steps and gave lessons along the way. It was too late to go back; too late to change my mind, and so I would press forward, but with help this time. Suggestions and techniques were stated clearly: “Stay on the balls of your feet when going up.” “Make sure your foot is steady and grounded before moving the other foot.” “Make sure you take small steps.” “Walk sideways if you need to.”

Like life, we find ourselves on adventures we hadn’t anticipated. We may be surprised at the effort it takes to travel a seemingly flat trail when instead it becomes a rocky terrain to get to the next yellow tree marker. When I admit my fears, like in this case my fear of heights, the help I need comes easily. My fellow hikers, who I think were part-women-part-mountain-goats shared tips for my journey to make it safer and easier for me. For that, I’m grateful. This trip on the “Nature Trail” became a new adventure and a reminder that I can still learn lessons while going uphill on this mountain of life.

Tip of the week:
To stick to your exercise routine, plan it a week in advance and write your plan on a calendar. Then you simply need to check your plan and start moving, without having to think about it. I use the ‘mile system’ with Leslie Sansone’s DVDs and decide how many miles I’m doing each day, and which day or two I have off.

Constitutional Walking Tour

2010-04-07T20:21:00.001-04:00

A recent trip to Philadelphia included the constitutional walking tour of the city’s historic sites. A walking history lesson for 1 ½ hours. I think I would have enjoyed learning this stuff in seventh grade if we got the chance to walk around and see the places where the historic events occurred. Back then, I simply read the text, memorized the dates, and repeated the answers correctly on the written exam. This time, it was fun to learn the same old information.

My favorite takeaway impression from this adventure is the common theme of common men attempting to make courageous changes in their worlds. Our tour guide shared the basic history facts, but he also included the fun facts. I enjoyed learning that Independence Hall wasn’t always called Independence Hall, and yet still is the building of “National Treasure” movie fame. I learned that the Liberty Bell now resides in a security-laden pavilion only because of the crazy man who tried to hit it with a hammer to release the spirits of the long-dead presidents. I learned that the pennies tossed onto Ben Franklin’s grave are there for no apparent reason. I learned that Betsy Ross’ body is buried at the Betsy Ross house, but was originally buried elsewhere and got moved there so she could be next to her third husband.

This new way of learning the same old information is reminding me of new ways I’m diving into the Old Testament stories of the Bible. Instead of simply reading the text, I’m enjoying the fun stories behind the scenes. In this way, I find the Old Testament stories relatable and glean appropriate insight for my own life today. Yes, today’s times are different than 2000+ years ago, but the fundamentals remain: the desire for freedom, for choices, for understanding. The few courageous men who dared to challenge the British traditions in the startup of America were similar to the prophets of the Old Testament days who dared believe in an all-Sovereign God despite what the people of their neighboring towns believed.

I’m grateful for my American freedom; I’m even more grateful for freedom in Christ. Like the walking constitutional tour, I want to live my life as if it’s a walking Christian woman tour. Keeping it fun; keeping it true. And maybe I can keep learning new things along the way.

Tip of the week:
If necessary, utilize the dish soap destruction method for food that calls your name and you need to resist. Just last week I had a few chocolate chips too many for a recipe, and disposed of the rest of the chips with the perfect shot of green soap on top to be sure I didn’t eat them. It works!

A Writer's Life

2010-03-31T09:02:00.001-04:00

I recently returned from a writing conference: three days of workshops and conversations with other writers, publishers, editors and agents. My mind is still spinning with the information and new ideas to process. Being around all that creativity stirs the creativity within me. I reflect on my own writing life as a result and realize it’s similar to the health-conscious life I lead with a forever focus on food, exercise and weight.

There’s an aspect of being a writer that is never ‘turned off’. Ideas are everywhere, when I’m awake and when I’m asleep; when I’m driving and when I’m in the shower; when I eat and even when I sit down to write. All those ideas need to be considered, indulged, sorted and shared. It reminds me of when I went to college part-time in the evenings. The only way to survive those eight long years of work towards the goal of that college degree was to accept what felt like the never-ending nature of school assignments. The only break was between semesters, but during those class sessions, there was always something else to read, something to write, something to study for.

The role of being health conscious, too, is never ‘turned off’. Food is everywhere, when I’m awake and when I’m asleep; when I’m driving and when I’m in the shower; when I write and even when I sit down to eat. All the food needs to be planned, purchased, cleaned, cut and cooked. Every day. Three times a day, at least. Unless I choose to fast for some period of time, there really is no break. Ever.

Another aspect of being a writer is the need for discipline within the creativity. Over and over again in workshops and conversations I hear about keeping our writing lives a priority; making sure to take the time to write whether or not the muse strikes. When writing is a paid job, there is attention to the task at hand; there is a tangible deadline and paycheck that results from the act of writing. When writing is part of a bigger goal, such as a book, there is the discipline required to persevere in its writing, editing and promoting. There is the unknown end date; the unknown deadline, but the need to continue remains intact. The need for daily attention to the writing task is simply disciplinary in nature.

Being health conscious is always disciplinary in nature. A self-professed lack of discipline is what causes most people to see the eating and exercising as ‘on’ or ‘off’ tasks, but instead there is more success in remaining healthy when we see the tasks as ‘forever’ tasks; never ‘off’. Only then can we gain the tenacity to stay with it day after day without throwing in the towel on our health efforts.

I claim the right to remain creative while being disciplined. I claim my identity as a health-conscious writer. Forever.

Tip of the Week:
To stay on my eating and exercise program, I really must pray. Not the ‘bless this food’ prayer rituals, but really pray. Every day. This week, I commit to revisiting the focus on prayer; making sure my prayer time is a higher priority than the million other things I need to do. Amen.

Taylor Swift: Fearless

2010-03-24T09:19:00.000-04:00

High-pitched screaming. Cheering. Arms waving. More screaming. Through my earplugs, I could still hear the excitement. Yes, I am the parent of a Taylor Swift fan. And yes, I, too, am Fearless.

Among thousands of groupies at the recent concert as part of her “Fearless” tour, I was fascinated by Taylor Swift. She lives up to her reputation of being beautiful, energetic and connected. I have never seen a performer work so hard at making sure she exuded a sense of one-on-one connection with each of her fans. She displays a sense of gratitude and humility while sharing her talents as an artist and a person. Taylor Swift may only be nineteen, but is wise beyond her years. There were moments during the concert when I intentionally sat down and looked around. The joy of seeing my daughter experience this concert was palpable. Watching others, however, I understood the appeal of this young artist. The wide range of ages among the Swift fans—girls as young as four years old up to women who must’ve been older than me (oh, the horror)—were all singing along to those familiar lyrics of a female’s life. Dreams of being a princess; finding our own way in this world; recovering after being treated badly by a boyfriend—all common themes and perpetually relatable. It has been a long time, but I could still recall being “Fifteen” at the prompting of Taylor’s lilting rendition of teenage life.

I was also fascinated at the purity of the concert experience. Growing up in the era of rock ‘n roll rebellion, I associated concerts with radical dynamics, not the music. This time, the music itself was a welcome treat, as if I was chatting with my best friend or reading a great book.

As we stumbled along with the rest of the herd to exit the concert, a young girl next to me exclaimed my favorite comment: “This will be the topic of discussion for the rest of my LIFE!” Now that’s quite an impression.

Spring into Exercise...Again

2010-03-17T08:02:00.002-04:00

Warmer weather. The reprieve from the harsh cold and imposing snowstorms of the winter are over. (Well, maybe.) It’s not spring yet, but the smells in the air, the robins on the roofs and the smiles and skip in the steps of people everywhere indicate that we’re close to this next season.

I find it interesting to see a lot of people get excited about exercise again at this time of year, too. Whether it’s the seasonal change itself, or the fear of getting back into shorts and bathing suits again, the exercise industry seems to benefit from the renewed interest. Admittedly, it’s great to experience a walk in fresh air, not a sweaty gym, and to hear new sounds, tackle new hills in the neighborhoods and simply to be outside for a change.

I also find it interesting to hear people say they have a stronger commitment to exercise because of the weather. In some cases, it’s true. In most cases, though, it’s simply another phase. I’m more impressed with people who start a new exercise regimen in the winter, or perhaps that infamous January 1st start date, and are still in their exercise routine today—three months later. Then, if they say it’s time to take it outside, I am pretty confident it’s simply a new twist on an old routine, which is healthy.

Where will all those outside-weather-exercisers be with the first rainstorm? On their couches, I presume. Time to break out the at-home workouts, or head back to the sweaty, smelly gym again. Boy, isn’t exercise fun?

Penny Candy

2010-03-10T10:20:00.001-05:00

Ahhh. The smell of spring. School recess time. Jumping rope and penny candy. Red hot dollars. Root beer barrels. Sugar daddy lollipops. And my favorite: boxes of chalky, yummy candy cigarettes. Oh, and the soft pretzels too.

Sugar and carbs. What more could a kid want to refuel mid-day? When I was a kid, we could buy candy and soft, doughy pretzels at recess time. We squirreled away our coins to indulge in our favorite treats. The pretzels were a bonus; hey, it was Philadelphia—the pretzels were a requirement. The money transactions on the blacktop were simple enough: exchanging coins for smiles. The grueling chores of school life were briefly replaced with sugary ecstasy; penmanship was exchanged for pretzels with just the right amount of salt.

Unhappy dentists must have rebelled, though. Today, school age kids are lucky to even have twenty minutes of recess time; twenty minutes is not much time for fresh air, for running around. Oh, and forget about buying candy. Or pretzels.

Back in elementary school, I still remember one method of discipline that was used on Patrick, who was the kid in my class who talked too much. The teacher made him sit in the closet. No, it wasn’t a time-out on a chair facing the closet; he was IN the closet. One of those days, Patrick rose to the occasion, though. He sat in that closet and ate the recess candy. It was a delicious victory for all of us.

I believe God wants us to enjoy the good things in life—in this case, sugar and carbs. It doesn’t seem right to go too far to the other extreme without the goodies; without the fresh air. The moderation is the challenge. Like my fortune cookie paper said: “Everything in moderation, including moderation.”

Gravy Connections

2010-03-03T11:06:00.001-05:00

My mom’s homemade gravy, bubbling and steaming, is prepared exactly the same way Nana cooked it. Small spatters of red on the white stove mark the perfectly stirred combination of puree, meatballs, sausage, a carrot, an onion and spices. Recipe sharing was done only in the kitchen, in front of the pot, with the appropriate stories shared along with the instructions. My mouth watering, I look around for a slice of pure white bread to dunk into that pot; I used to sneak the bread-dunking routine when I was a kid. It’s fun that I can dunk in front of Mom now. Mom tells me her mother-in-law taught her all the family’s Italian recipes. It was the in-law rite of passage.

What’s so interesting and delicious are the feelings evoked with the wonderful smell of that gravy—the nurturing, the sharing, and the indulging. The traditions themselves don’t matter; what does matter is the closeness they represent. How perfect that our traditions are about “gravy”. The expression “it’s gravy” means it’s “extra”; similarly, our traditions with the food result in the connections which are the “extra”. Why, I’ve always wondered, is it always about the food? Sharing a meal forces us to slow down enough to sit and talk with each other. These connections are lost in the usual schedules of our lives. No wonder I love the gravy so much. Pass the white bread please.

Grocery Math

2010-02-24T11:07:00.000-05:00

Every time I go to the grocery store, I think I should bring my calculator. I used to bring the calculator so I could estimate my food bill as I shopped, so I knew when to stop according to my budget. Now I have to estimate the food bill in my mind because I need the calculator for grocery math.

Why do hot dogs come in packs of 10 but the rolls are packs of 8 or 12? How many packages of hot dogs would I need to be equivalent to the number of packages of hot dog rolls? Hey, who wants a hot dog without a roll anyway? Gotta pull out the calculator.

When soda is on sale, how do I quickly calculate if the two-liter sale is better or worse than the price for the individual cans? Gotta pull out the calculator.

Why is it that when I used to buy pre-packaged shredded cheese, I knew it contained two cups? It said so on the package. Now there are packages that contain two cups, but others that contain one and one-half cups. Is it worth buying a second package of cheese to get the other half cup? Then how many packages would I need to get an even two cups, which I need for most recipes, again? Gotta pull out the calculator.

Don’t even talk to me about the nutrition information on those food labels. What is a serving size, really? It used to mean a suggested portion for a reasonable serving of a given food item. Now it has changed so that it means how much of that packaged food equals about 100 calories. We’re all into this hundred-calorie thing now, admit it. And so my cereal has completely lost its mind. One type has as its serving size to be ½ cup, another is 1 ¼ cups and yet another is 1 cup. How much cereal should I be eating? Calculator time again.

The most critical use of the calculator: popcorn math. I have calculated and re-calculated a variety of popcorn labels to determine how many calories, fat and fiber are in two tablespoons of popcorn and in an entire bag of popcorn. Why do I need to know the number for two tablespoon if that’s not what I’d eat anyway? Does 94% fat-free popcorn mean it contains 6% fat? Okay, forget the calculator now. Just pop the popcorn.

No wonder I’m tired and hungry after I get groceries. Time for a snack. Start calculating.

Google Wonder

2010-02-17T09:09:00.001-05:00

Googolplex and infinity. What is googolplex? Well, I googled it. It’s defined as a number; the number one with the exponent of googol; googol is defined as the digit one followed by one hundred zeros. All of this is not to be confused with “infinity”, which is more of a concept than a number; the number that never ends.

What ever happened to those beautiful concepts; the ideas like infinity and creation, which allow us to use our brain cells to wonder about things? We are born to wonder; it’s how we learn. As infants, the learning process seems more intuitive and evolves as a process of trial and error, but somewhere post-toddler years and before school age years, the sense of wonder takes hold and a child’s imagination is born. Imaginary friends; imaginary situations; imaginary colors—all the stuff of blending what we already know with what is unknown. The unknown factor is what makes it interesting.

And then came google. How many colors are really in a rainbow?, I might ask at the dinner table one night. Out comes the blackberry and it’s googled. Answer found. What makes a bubble round?, I wonder. Out comes the blackberry and it’s googled. Answer found. How fast could a skier really fly down those moguls?, I say, as I watch the Olympics with wonder. It’s googled.

The googling has got to go. I wish for the wonder to return. I tire of the possibility of quick answers without thought. I prefer to wonder; to exchange ideas; to rediscover things that may have already been discovered and researched. And so, I prefer the number infinity. You can keep googolplex. How long would it take to write the number googolplex on paper? I wonder.

Snowdog

2010-02-09T17:01:00.004-05:00

Things aren’t always as they seem.

It’s a winter with snow. Lots of it. Almost two feet of it, brightening, calming, silencing the landscape. Its beauty is in its ability to outline all that we see already, or do we?

My daughter and I declared the time to be snowman-building time. We climbed through the piles in our backyard and picked the perfect spot for our snow creature to stand. Closer inspection revealed the snow to be the fluffy stuff; sifted confectioner’s sugar, to the highest level of slippery smoothness. We’d repeatedly gather a handful and squeeze it together for the starting snowball to begin building our snowman, only to result in another crumbled pile of white remnants at our feet. Brushing off the crumbs from my gloves one more time, we switched gears and changed our task. We must reinvent the crumbly snow and create the wet stuff we need for perfect snowballs and snowmen and snow forts.

We had two approaches to the problem: 1) a thermos of water to wet the snow, and 2) the search for already-wet snow to use for our snow building task. Pouring water onto the small pile we made, we were pleased at the hardening ice to keep the pile from flattening. The snow-watering was tedious, though, and we were convinced plan 2 would be an easier solution. I went around to the front of the house and discovered a spot where dripping water from the roof caused a section of snow to be the perfect icy, wet stuff. My daughter took the assignment of snow-watering to keep our pile strong. Imagine the crazy scene: my daughter watering snow, and me carrying piles of wet, usable snow from the front of the house around to the back so that the snowman-building project could continue. No, we weren’t crazy. We were inventing.

Eventually, our pile became large enough to sculpt into the round shape needed for the classic snowman. Determined to gather just one more pile of wet stuff, I went to the front of the house and discovered a small boulder left over from the driveway being plowed. I picked it up, carried it back and gingerly placed it on top of the mound. It’s a snowdog, my daughter said. And so it was. What we thought would be a snowman became a snowdog. Sometimes we need to just leave things alone, even if they aren’t as they seem.

The Man In The Window

2010-02-03T08:49:00.002-05:00

Once upon a time, there was a school bus stop. The neighborhood near the school bus stop was a quiet one, although the rows of houses in the little development were quite cozy and close together. Every day, anywhere between five and ten children gathered at this school bus stop, ranging between five and ten years old, and they waited together each morning with their parents for the yellow bus to arrive.

One of those children was different from the rest; instead of acting like the other children, jumping and giggling and chasing the other children in tag, she watched. An audience of one, she observed every nuance; every word spoken loudly or softly, every bird flying above, every car driving by. The bus stop was at the intersection of a busy road, so she had to wait for the cars to pass so she could observe the interesting houses across the road which stood all by themselves on little mats of grass, like the special kindergarten mat she had in school a couple years ago. Each house occupied just enough space to exist but not enough space to be noticed--much.

One day, the little girl was at the bus stop again and saw that the small white house across the road had its curtains opened for the first time ever. There was an old man standing at the window, watching for the school bus, too. He looked across at the children and looked at his watch. When the bus finally arrived, the man looked at the children again, lifted his arm, and waved. He waved to each one of those children as they got on the bus, and then he closed the curtain.

The afternoon came and the school bus returned back to the neighborhood. The girl got off the bus and looked back across the busy road. The curtains were open again. The man waved again. She glanced over but didn’t respond.

The next day, the old man was at the window again when the morning bus arrived. He waved as each of the children got on the bus. And then the curtains were closed again. When the afternoon bus dropped the children back home, she noticed the curtains were open again and the man waved a greeting.

The third morning, the old man was at the window. He opened the curtains and stood at the window. Waiting. Again. The bus was a little late this morning. The girl looked across and saw him checking his watch and checking back at the road. And waiting. This time, the man waved from the window but the bus wasn’t there yet. Hesitantly, she waved back. When the bus came, he waved as each of the children got on the bus. The bus driver noticed the old man, too, and gave a friendly honk as he took off.

Several months went by. The old man was at the window almost every morning, and when the curtains were drawn, the children finally expected him to wave to them. They all waved back now. They actually noticed.

One day, the girl said to her mother at the bus stop: “We should visit him one day.” Her mother said, “Fine, honey; let’s do that some time.”

Two more weeks went by and the girl said it again. “We should visit the old man one day.” Her mother said “Okay. We’ll go over together after school today.”

That afternoon, the girl and her mother went across the road. They went to visit the old man. The butterflies in the girl’s stomach were jumping and giggling as she knocked on the door. And the old man answered the door.

The girl and her mother found out that the old man had a wife who died two years before; he was alone and said he remembered that someone waved to him at his school bus stop when he was a little kid. And so he passed the heritage on.

The next morning, the girl went to the school bus stop. The first thing she did was wave to the man in the window. Then she jumped and giggled and chased the other children in tag. And the man watched and smiled. And the girl noticed.

Coffee Connections

2010-01-27T08:08:00.001-05:00

I love coffee. I love it, not only for the taste, caffeine, and warmth but the conversations and connections that accompany it. It effortlessly blends into all aspects of my day and enhances a variety of my routines.

First and foremost, coffee defines my morning routine. The steps to prepare and wait for the coffee are perfect preludes to my first and most important conversation of the day—my conversation with God. This ritual provides the grounding that allows the rest of my day to proceed with purpose. Okay, the ritual helps me wake up in those early hours of the morning. I treasure the precious block of solitude; it provides clarity and direction.

Secondly, coffee enjoyed sometime during the day usually accompanies a chat between friends when we need to perform our own personal therapy sessions, finding patterns and meaning in our thoughts, decisions and perspectives. Sorting and putting words to those thoughts is always easier with a cup of steaming java to steer the way.

Finally: what beats a great cup of coffee after dinner? The perfect antidote to a day gone bad, or a reward for a good day, it’s a way to sit and reflect on my experiences.

Why do I love coffee? Because it forces me to sit when I otherwise wouldn’t. I am an on-the-go person, and the act of sitting with that cup of brew gives me the chance to think. It makes life more valuable to me with the forced reflection time.

My coffee habit: it’s my indulgence and I’m sticking to it.

Glass Half Full

2010-01-20T09:29:00.001-05:00

I’ve noticed a lot of attention to the usual January topics in my personal life and out there in the media: diet and exercise. With New Year’s resolutions (whether we agree with them or not) come the solutions—eating and exercise programs which seem to provide a fresh new perspective on the same old thing: losing weight. This year’s slant on the new way of eating and exercise seems to be the focus on our metabolism. Metabolic makeovers. I know there are shards of truth among the shattered dreams these promises provide, but I’m skeptical. I know it’s about eating healthfully. Period. More information won’t change the basic facts: eating better and moving more is required.

We like to discuss problems: “ It’s difficult to lose those last ten pounds (seem like a common theme here?)”, or “It’s difficult to get the time for grocery shopping”, or “It’s difficult to take the time to cook”… but with all these statements, we’re only talking about the problems, not the possible solutions. I paraphrase a quote from Lanny Basham, champion of multiple Olympic medals and author of a mental management system, who says: “Come to me with the solutions, then we can talk.”

I thoroughly enjoy Lanny Bassham’s system of mental control called Mental Management. He’s an American sports shooter who won a gold in the 1976 Summer Olympics and silver in 1972; however he attempted to win a gold at Munich in 1972, realizing a mental failure caused him to take the silver instead. This mental management system developed as a result. No, I’m not competing for the Olympics but I love the focus and direction of this mental management system. Losing weight and maintaining a healthy weight for a lifetime requires the tenacity, focus and motivation that the Olympic athletes employ. What I’ve learned? It’s how I look at it. As simple as the glass-half-empty-or-half-full approach to a lifestyle change is the simplicity of the decision to look at new eating programs and ways of exercise as a glass-half-full type of lifestyle.

As for Lanny, he utilized his own mental management system to move forward and within the next six years, dominated his sport, winning 22 world individual and team titles, setting 4 world records, and winning the coveted Olympic Gold Medal in Montreal in 1976. I can’t wait to be a winner like that. Metabolic makeovers. Maybe they’re not so bad.

Exercise: As long as it Exists, it's Okay

2010-01-13T08:50:00.001-05:00

I have been doing low-impact aerobic walking workouts using at-home DVDs for more than five years now and I love some parts of the experience; I simply tolerate others. It might seem like I enjoy exercising, but actually I exercise because I need to do it, kind of like taking vitamins . Okay, sometimes I think it’s great to get sweaty and enjoy the sense of accomplishment once I’ve finished a workout, but I don’t always feel like starting. Exercise, for me, need not be exciting. Just easy. What’s more important to me is that exercise simply exists. It doesn’t need to be overwhelming or perfect; it just needs to be done.

January 2010. It’s the start of a new year and so I indulge in the pursuit of New Year’s resolutions. As a goal-oriented person, I savor the chance to re-state some resolutions, create new ones, and reconnect to the plans I have in progress: voila! New Year’s resolutions! For me, the resolutions represent the pleasure of a fresh new start. This year’s resolutions include the exercise regimen…but with a new twist. I will also change up my workouts to make them more interesting.

In order to pursue my resolution of interesting workouts, I interjected hand weights and other strength moves in with my usual low-impact aerobic walking. What a surprise to have some fun and feel empowered to do pushups for the first time in my life! This new level of strength inspired me to sample a different type of at-home workout I found on sale: “The Firm”. It’s quite flashy and seems more extreme in its promises but I was ready for a new step; tentative, but ready.

Boy was I wrong. I couldn’t even try to make my muscles bulge because my eyes were bulging at the crazy moves I saw on this video. Perhaps I could accomplish the moves if I were training for ballet on a New York stage, but a simple workout routine for a writer/mom does not include what I saw on those DVDs. To add to the irony, the recordings were actually a remake of workouts created back in the 80’s—during my own prime years of life when I could have attempted these moves without a major injury. Imagine those perfect people with big hair to match the big muscles surrounding the slim bodies, colorful tights and leotards, and, of course, legwarmers. Scary.

Whew. I almost jumped onto a crazy fitness bandwagon there. Back to basics for me—simple exercises. I know it’s the consistency of the workouts, not the excitement, which will provide me with healthy results.

Christmas Cookies

2010-01-06T08:52:00.000-05:00

It’s time to take down the decorations and, for me, it’s also a good time to reflect on this year’s Christmas traditions to determine what we enjoyed most, and least, in this past month. One task that I struggle with year after year is the tradition of baking Christmas cookies.

I love to bake. That’s part of my challenge. The other part is that I also love to eat cookies. I can be obsessed with them, just like I am with chocolate candy. Yes, my level of obsession has gotten smaller, as I continue this journey towards healthier approaches to food over these last five years, but those cookies are definitely a ‘red light’ food item for me. But the enjoyment of baking is something I’ve learned since I was a young girl. I know how to time the pizzelles ‘just so’ to create perfectly toasted cookies, not too white and not too brown. I know how to get the butter cookie batter to just the right consistency to create uniformly shaped trees and stars. I know how to knead the batter from my Great-Aunt-Pauline’s “S” cookie recipe in such a way to result in anise-y, lemony biscuits that melt in my mouth as I enjoy them with a steaming cup of coffee. Not only do I crave these experiences of baking, but I smile at the memories that the mouth-watering aromas bring from the baking cookies, hot in the oven. I want to pass along some, if not all, of those memories to my own daughter, and it tears my heart to think she might not learn some of these traditions.

Hence the struggle. If I bake these cookies, who’s going to eat them? Me! Well, me and my husband and kids too. But mostly me! My conclusion to this year’s cookie baking decision was to delay the baking until after the holiday rush. My daughter and I put together a small batch just last week, and it was fun for me to enjoy the time with her, and to watch my family appreciate the goodies in our house.

There was another gesture I appreciated this year. It was what I call “The Perfect Cookie Tray” brought over by a friend. She made multiple batches of homemade goodies at her house, and wanted to share some with our family. She also knows me well enough to bring her gift in the perfect package: a small tin of exactly eight cookies…two each for the four of us. We could indulge, but not overindulge. I felt understood and loved. Perhaps that’s what the cookies are all about—being understood for who we are, including our heritage, and being loved. Yum.

More Turkey Reflections: A Gift

2009-12-30T09:06:00.001-05:00

This past holiday season was a whirlwind of activity including get-togethers with family and friends, shopping, wrapping presents, household chores, picking up groceries, and, of course, exercising and cooking wholesome foods. I decided I would roast a turkey instead of having drive-through meals which had a minimum of protein and a maximum of fat in them. Does a McDonald’s hamburger really count as protein? Even the flame-broiled Wendy’s or Burger King burgers seem to be more like burger-food than protein to me. I wanted help our family eat a little bit better these past couple weeks. The thawing turkey was in the fridge, ready to be stuffed and cooked for our family. The problem: when can I cook it? The 15 pound bird required a good 4-5 hours of oven time which meant I needed to be home for 4-5 hours straight.

This time commitment reminded me again of the “Be still and know that I am God…” scripture reference that is so familiar yet so evasive. The stillness is the gift I received just because I had to cook a turkey. The stillness results in the calming peace I feel when I choose to take those quiet minutes, or hours, to reflect and meditate.

My protein dilemma was solved with a sudden snowstorm in our area a couple weeks ago which resulted in a roasting turkey while snowflakes covered everything outside in blinding whiteness. Have you ever stood outside in a pile of snow just after a snowstorm? The tangible stillness inspired me to take a breath and squint through the sparkling whiteness in search of the true meaning of Christmas…God’s love for me. What a gift.

Turkey Reflections

2009-11-27T15:03:00.001-05:00

The day after Thanksgiving. Back to the healthy eating and exercise routine. While reflecting on the Thanksgiving meal, I decided not to gripe about what and how much I ate, but instead to think about the food as a metaphor for the relationships I crave, particularly at this time of year. Time for this foodie to see the turkey and trimmings in a new way.

The turkey. This is the meat of the traditional Thanksgiving meal. It’s a wonderful food, full of protein, providing me with the strength and nourishment to fuel my muscles for strength and good health. It’s the star of the show on this holiday, and I find it interesting that of all the foods we usually prepare, it’s the simplest. Rinse off, sprinkle a little oil, salt and pepper, and roast. The turkey reminds me of the strongest relationships in my life. My husband, close friends, family. Certain of the people in my life are the ones who are the true fuel for my strength and good health. I know that if I don’t spend the time I need with these protein sources, I get drained more easily and life’s circumstances affect me more than it should. These meaty relationships are simple, but require time.

The stuffing. It’s the flavorful, fun, fill-in stuff. With all its varieties, the stuffing can enhance the turkey with its spiciness. However, the stuffing can also absorb the juices from my primary protein source if I simply stuff too much. Like the big bowl of bread chunks that seems bottomless, I find it interesting that I can stuff way too much into a little space. Volunteerism, guilt, busy-ness, useless traditions. All these and more can provide way too much filling for my good health. It can be tasty and fun, and might fuel me for the short run, but it doesn’t give the long-lasting energy I need to sustain myself.

The cranberry sauce. This sweet enhancement to the Thanksgiving meal is exactly what makes everything else taste a little better. I love to have a bit of sauce with the turkey, with the stuffing, with whatever else ends up on my plate. It’s like my sweet relationships that lack the obligatory side effects of time and attention. They include old high school friends, new friends, temporary acquaintances—all of who add just what I need to enjoy the meat of my life a bit more.

Green. Bean. Casserole. This is an attempt at healthy living gone bad. I’m okay with the green, and even with the green bean, but when it becomes casserole, it becomes a dish I avoid. The healthiness has been masked in creaminess and crunchiness, like the healthy relationships in my life that seem simple but get masked in obligation and need redefining or skipping altogether. There have been seasons in my own life when I held onto a relationship just a bit too long that it became this unsavory side dish, and I have had to make this decision to either change it or skip it to maintain my own health.

The salad, asparagus, or brussel sprouts. There is usually one side dish that retains its simple, healthy state on the Thanksgiving table. The crunchiness and deep green colors of these foods can provide the vitamins and fiber that help us to enjoy the rest of the meal in moderation. I find it interesting that I usually skip eating these foods on Thanksgiving, even if they are on the table. There’s no room left for healthiness on a day devoted to indulgence. There’s a problem, however, when the sense of abundance makes me skip the simplicity of this day which is all about giving thanks. I want to remember not to skip giving thanks on this day, or any day, even if I skip the green stuff.

The pies. The pies epitomize indulgence and sweetness in all its forms: apple, pumpkin, lemon, cherry. The aspect of the pies I appreciate most is the sweetness of the family traditions tied to them. The passing on of the recipes and techniques for pie baking is in itself enough for dessert. I love the traditions and heritage passed on from generation to generation through these desserts. It’s a great finishing touch to a day devoted to thankfulness. This sweet gratitude is the treat for all of our days, not just the holiday season.

I’m full now, how about you? Be blessed this holiday season with the relationships you crave.

When 10 Equals 100

2009-11-16T16:58:00.000-05:00

I came across a new realization on my weight loss journey last week: 10 equals 100! No, it’s not a new math method. It’s a new mindset.

As many of you know, I have lost over 100 pounds during the last five years, primarily as a result of my faith and prayer life. Praise God! Yet I still tackle the infamous ‘last ten pounds’ which I need to lose to reach my goal weight. It amazes me that it’s such a common theme; you know, you share with your girlfriend “I have these last ten pounds to lose!” What does she say? “I know what you mean…these last ten are the HARDEST!”

Why do these last pounds get such a bad rap? What’s the difference between them and the first ten? Hey, a pound is a pound, right? I’m not a nutritionist but I can acknowledge that there is some truth to the fact that losing these pounds is a different struggle. I think we’ve taken this concept too far, though. Why the last-pounds struggle? Here are a few reasons I can identify:
1. My body as a thinner person requires less calories than it did as a much heavier person; as a result, I am eating too much if I use some of my old eating habits; therefore I need to eat less.
2. I have more muscle mass than before, and so I can eat more if my metabolism is higher due to the muscle. Sometimes I might take that liberty too far and steep back into the old habits; as a result, I eat too much again.
3. My weight loss efforts are getting tiresome; after a long time of following this eating program, my body is too familiar with the routine and in its higher level of fitness, and requires that I change something either in my eating or exercise or both to wake up my metabolism.
4. I’m just tired of it all and so I simply eat out of boredom.
5. It’s possible I’m afraid of success and that I have identified myself as a person who needed to lose weight for so long that I’m not ready to give her up.
There’s no way to have long-time success in a healthy weight and lifestyle without some knowledge of the reasons behind the food science. That’s not my focus, though. I’m here to deal with the spiritual perspective.

I am thrilled to have finally become conscious of the fact that over the last ten months, I have been working from an attitude of “Hey, God. Thanks a lot for your help with those first hundred pounds. I’m down to the last ten…(gulp, here’s the problem)…I CAN TAKE IT FROM HERE!” The self-sufficiency fails to serve me once again. What am I thinking? Why do I assume that since these last pounds seem like a smaller goal, and therefore I can attain this one on my own? I persist with food tracking, exercising, reading new recipes and cooking…only to find myself in that state of permanent plateau once again. And boy am I excited to recognize my problem. Why? Because my God, the same God who held my hand through those hundred pounds, is still here. He’s with me, holding my hand, for these last ten pounds. I just forgot. I need to treat these last ten pounds the same way as those first hundred: a goal that can be accomplished only with God’s help.

There was an amazing new Scripture I discovered the next day after realizing this erroneous attitude on my part. It’s Galatians 3:3 in the NIV version: “Are you so foolish? After beginning with the Spirit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort?” Okay, so God needed to knock me upside the head with that familiar clunk of a V8 moment, but I think I get the message. Ten pounds, beware. You will be gone.

Serving Bread

2009-11-07T07:14:00.004-05:00

As I walked to the back of the Open Door Ministry, the first thing I saw was the table with boxes and boxes of all types of bread and rolls, bagged in portions to be distributed. Of course I’d notice the bread. It’s one of my own personal drugs of addiction. The bread was next to the rows of grocery store bags containing the non-perishable food items. They were all lined up, soldiers ready to take on their mission. What really is the mission, I wonder?

I can see how easy it is to step into this type of serving situation with a bit of a superior attitude, although unintended and completely innocent. I’m one of several people who signed up in a time slot for this place which was a food pantry and clothing provider for those qualified to be in need. When I sign up to help people, I realize it sounds like it’s about me helping them. I’m one of those who has the resources, the health, the strength, the ability, and the desire to help others. What I have discovered, though, is that in the helping process, I am the one who’s receiving the work on my own heart. It’s not necessary to have the spiritual gift of mercy, or giving, or even compassion, to choose to sign up and be a part of a serving project. What is helpful on a personal level, however, is to tap into prayer for God to help me help others.

This time, I prayed about the serving project. I prayed I would help out in ways that were needed. I prayed I would see and hear what God would want me to see and hear. And so I did.

I saw the woman walk into the pantry for her first time. She was greeted by the staff with love and care. “Come on in!”, they’d say. “Sit down and let’s talk about what’s up.” So many of us simply need someone to sit down and listen to us. But many of us need a bit more; some tangible help. Not the smoothed-over “I’ll pray for you” comment, but a real listening ear and a chance for someone else to tap into our own life’s challenges to maybe take our hand and help us through the valley. In this place, there isn’t just the listening ear. There’s also the chance for hands-on help. It’s about finding the real need and meeting it. I could benefit from that focus when talking with my friends, my family, neighbors and acquaintances. Getting past the surface-level conversations and into real places of mission requires that I risk the next step that might require action on my part.

Then there was the couple who were browsing through the clothes racks, looking for something that would be useful and practical to put into their “free” bag of clothes. They had to guess at sizes since there wasn’t the opportunity to try things on, but they could take whatever they wanted. The larger-sized man stood next to me; I asked if I could help him find something in particular. “There’s not much in bigger sizes, is there?” I could have cried. My own food addiction had me in that familiar place so many times. I would be in a store and want to find something that fits and is helpful for my self-esteem, but larger sizes are elusive. It takes a lot more effort to find something that doesn’t look like a sack of potatoes when I’m overweight. His comment fueled me to take the time to take apart the slacks off the rack and look through several of them, one by one, to find the tiny size tag in the bottom right leg of the pants to read the numbers. We found one pair of slacks a little bit bigger, and it was like I found a treasure when I handed it to him.

Then there was the scary person. You know, the kind that make us say “Uh-oh, I don’t know if I could talk to her”. The miniskirt, fishnets and bleached hair seemed to offset the need to find sweaters and long-sleeved tops for her bag. I wondered what her story was. I asked if I could help her find something. She was looking for the blankets; they were usually in the back but must have been moved. She was obviously familiar with this place of handouts. How long does this go on, I wonder? How many times do these people come here. Is it possible to lack the motivation to move on?

Finally, the heart-wrenching interaction. It was unintended; I was finishing up the back rack of clothes to be sorted, not necessarily talking with anyone at the time, and next to me, on the chairs, were two small children. They were sitting quietly, one of them holding a bag of bread, waiting for the adults to finish their conversation and paperwork. The older child, a girl with bright eyes and dark hair to contrast her fair skin, looked up at me with a smile and simply stated “HI!” “Hi, there”, I replied. “This is my baby brother!”, she said, “and we got some bread to take home today.” I smiled, realizing the irony of the bread. “I bet you’re doing a great job helping to take care of him,” I responded. “Yes, I am!” A few seconds later, the adults finished. “Come on, it’s time to go!”, the girl said to her brother. “We can have some of this yummy bread when we get there!” She skipped out, taking my heart with her.

People are all the same, in some way, shape or form. She loved that bread as much as I do. She and her little brother could have older sisters and brothers that sit in the public school classroom next to my own children. We interact with people in need without realizing it. We don’t know other people’s stories, but we do know our own God, who makes us precious and unique. When we serve, let’s simply be our unique selves so that we can be like Jesus to people who need us. We end up receiving even more love and compassion ourselves. We simply can’t out-give God.

Scary Halloween Chocolate

2009-10-30T11:19:00.004-04:00

I'm back, folks. Want to thank you for checking in from time to time and apologize for missing the chance to post blogs in the last couple months. Figured I'd get back in touch with a timely and favorite topic: CHOCOLATE!

I am definitely in a danger zone when it comes to chocolate candy. I truly enjoy it--all of it--and still look for ways to manage the crazy addiction. I'm in awe of people who can keep bowls of M&Ms on their desk and ignore them most of the day. I'm not one of them. Imagine popping handsful until it's empty; that's me. Halloween and its chocolate candy is always a challenge for me as a Mom. Fortunately, my kids are not addicted to the chocolate. They just like to collect as much as possible. I don't blame them.

Many tips have been given over the years to handle the abundance of candy on Halloween. The most popular suggestion is to make sure not to buy Halloween candy in the first place, so it's not in my house. Fine. I've purchased and distributed a variety of creative and interesting goodies that are not of the chocolate persuasion over the years. Pencils. Coins. Pretzels. Goody bags with stickers and crayons. All good stuff; all useful. The problem is not the stuff I give away. It's the stuff that comes back in. What is with these people who dole out handsful of Snickers fun-size bars, or worse yet, full-size Hershey bars, to every kid that passes by? They must not be chocolate addicts at all, or instead enjoy this time to buy an exhorbitant amount of chocolate for their own indulgence with the excuse that it was candy purchased for Halloween trick-or-treaters. I can relate. I did this type of purchasing for many years.

I don't want to take the Halloween fun away from my kids. I still remember the joy of gathering up lots of goodies, emptying out the pillowcase (okay, I'm showing my age here..does anyone use pillowcases anymore?), and going out to the next neighborhood and repeating the process several times. The living room floor would be loaded beyond my imagination. Now that's a definition of a kid having fun. My own chocolate addiction should not deprive my children of this type of fun. The problem: how to let them indulge in the fun of collecting abundant goodies without letting them--or me--indulge in abundant chocolate?

Several Moms I know actually store their kids' candy collections and dole them out over the next several months. If the candy is still in the pantry after too many months, they might even throw away the chocolate that has been sitting the cabinet 'for the kids'. Not possible in my house. That candy would call my name time and time again until it's gone, probably before Thanksgiving. By then I would have started the holiday season with those extra ten pounds, instead of trying to lose the season's ten pounds after the holidays. Get my drift?

My solution: money! I actually pay my kids ten cents for each goody their collect (or I might change the year's going rate to five cents if they get too much); then they each 'earn' about five or ten dollars. I get to enjoy throwing away their candy (or donating it, if appropriate), using the dish soap method (that's an earlier blog from 4/27/09--"Binge Management"--check it out!) and being rid of my problem for the year. The kids are allowed to use the money however they want; I even set up a special trip to the toy store, or the store of their choice, to purchase their bonus goody earned. They are allowed to keep a few pieces only of their favorite chocolate; few enough that it's gone with their lunch snacks within a week, but that's all. It's a treat for me to see how this method has allowed them to enjoy the concept of collecting goodies without the extra stress for me to handle the chocolate addiction. The cash bribe is worth every cent.

If Halloween candy is difficult for you to handle, too, I found the best solution is in the sharing of ideas--let me know yours! Halloween chocolate need never be scary again.

The Mist

2009-08-20T08:24:00.003-04:00

A recent trip to Niagara Falls including the Maid of the Mist boat ride gave me and my family the opportunity to experience an ordinary touristy event. Waiting in line with hundreds of other people, I was amazed at the efficiency with which we were loaded onto the boat. 600 people per ride. Typical, I thought.. This will be fun, I'm sure, but not very eventful. That touristy boat ride was far from typical. It was all about the mist.

We started with a gentle float in front of the Falls on the American side. The sounds were everywhere: the roaring splash of the water, the seagulls' cawing, the hushed chatting of the people behind me. The sights were awe-inspiring: the never-ending dance of the water streaming down the rock formation, the off-white foam, and the smoky mist. I was amazed at the sheer amount of water around me. I smelled the wet air; I sensed the power. The rocks at the bottom of the American Falls made it difficult to get very close, however, and this portion of the ride was more like a wonderful sightseeing tour than an experience.

As we approached the Canadian Falls, which are also called the Horseshoe Falls, the thunderous water sounds were louder; stronger. The echo of the Falls was compounded with the fact that we finally started to get wet. The boat got bouncier. We got closer. The Falls were deafening now. Soaking. We got even closer. My mind argued: "I think we're close enough!" I relaxed for a moment and looked up. Way up. I squinted to glimpse the height of the water falling over the rocks, and looked as long and hard as I could.

Me. The Water. Total surrender. Being drenched and powerless was surprisingly wonderful--like the power of God. One of the definitions of the word "mist" is "something that dims or obscures." Only when I experienced the mist in its authentic form where the view was obscured could I recognize the power and wonder of those waterfalls. I stopped looking in awe and instead started to experience the true power of those Falls.

As we floated back to the dock, all I noticed were the smiles. Wet hair and wet smiles. There is something freeing about allowing for the surrender that I experienced in the Horseshoe Falls. It was different from experiencing God from afar, as with the American Falls. The mist was the most interesting part; I couldn't see through it, but knew there was power behind it. The mist might be something that dims or obscures the view, but it was exactly what allowed me to see the power of God most clearly in that moment. The surrendering; the soaking; the joy--all because of the mist.

Topsy Turvy Perspectives

2009-07-24T14:28:00.002-04:00

I am NOT a gardener. In fact, I have been known to help more plants die than thrive. Which is why my family and friends found it amusing that I chose to be enticed by the infomercials and gave in to the allure of the Topsy Turvy Tomato Planter. If you haven’t seen or heard of it, the planter is simply a vinyl bag which hangs on a hook or beam, into which I put a tomato plant, upside down. On top of the plant I then dumped in some soil and voila! An abundance of tomatoes!

To have some fun with my new “Topsy” perspective on gardening, I planted “Turvy” at the same time—another tomato plant in a pot, facing upwards, wearing the traditional posture of a tomato plant. The competitive streak in me smiled at the presumed race for the first great tomato—will Topsy or Turvy win? My circle of expert gardeners said it wouldn’t work.

It’s halfway through the summer, and I must share that Topsy has lived up to her name by going over the top in spite of the experts, and in spite of my lack of a green thumb. There are a number of tomatoes appearing on her with the accompanying abundance of yellow buds of promise. Turvy is quite sad; pathetic, actually. She’s typical of a plant I would normally produce—not quite dead but almost there. I may get one tomato out of her this year, just for kicks. Forget about an abundant harvest there.

The Topsy Turvy race reminds me of my own life’s perspectives, particularly in areas where I operate in a sometimes mindless routine. My meals, my workouts, my regular recipes. There are times I need to hang my ideas upside down so I can enjoy the abundant results I desire. There are times I need to listen to my own sense of adventure, instead of what the experts say. Maybe I’ll eat a salad for breakfast instead of for lunch; maybe I’ll work out in the evening instead of in the morning. How about if I try new recipes again, or taste another kind of vegetable I never heard of before. What if I see what it’s like to ride a bike outside again, like I did when I was a kid?

I’ve played a lot this summer—the Topsy way. I can appreciate, once again, the chance to look at things very differently. Even when I go back to some of those familiar routines, the familiar itself will now look fresh, new and fruitful to me. Like Topsy and her tomatoes.

Starting Over...and Over...and Over

2009-07-09T14:18:00.002-04:00

The sunrise. My early morning alarm. Birds chirping. Enticing coffee aroma. (gotta love those timer-started-coffee makers!) Time to start a new day. Again.

My prayer: “Dear God: Help! I’ve lost and gained the same three pounds for the last four months. What is that about? Is it mental or physical? I need to start over and lose these three pounds again, and then a few more to reach my final goal weight.”

It’s the beginning of another morning regimen and I’m blessed to be able to start a new day. The new day is my gift so that I can indulge in a new commitment towards healthy eating. I love the sense of a clean slate; the food tally marked with a zero; the restart that comes with the morning. This clean slate is a chance at hope. When I flounder on my eating program, it’s the restart that reminds me I am not perfect. The restarts are the only way to live within a life filled with imperfection.

It is my belief that these restarts are the most critical key for life-time success in weight loss. These restarts represent my prayer time. Going to the table again, coffee in hand, to have my morning chat with God, is what constitutes healthy living, regardless of my food choices. The healthy weight goals are going to be my daily battle for the rest of my life, and the only way I can survive the longevity of this battle is to break it down into these 24-hour chunks of time. Then and only then can I accept that there’s no need to throw in the towel—ever. I’m basking in the new sunrise—and I anticipate my restart—again.

Thankfully, God is available each morning along with that sunrise. I can count on that. “Amen.”

Shaping Up My Body Image

2009-06-24T16:50:00.005-04:00

The circle.
Round, nondescript, fluid. When I was a kid, my obesity was clearly announced with a simple chant by the other kids: “Lisa Pizza, Lisa Pizza.” Wincing, I remember thinking how bizarre that a popular name like Lisa would have to rhyme with a popular food commonly associated with being overweight. I felt as round and nondescript as the shape of that pizza. I associate my childhood memories with specially-made clothes, thighs rubbing together, the talcum powder used as salve, and struggling to fit in all through my elementary school years.

The square.
Somewhat uninteresting, edgy, evenly distributed. I think of building blocks and parallel sides when I think of the square. I’m remembering my high school geometry teacher, Mrs. Weber, with a smile. She taught us all those rules of geometry and the related theorems and proofs. By high school, I had more of an edge, but felt I still could have easily switched back to the circle if I let my guard down. I learned the rules for taking care of myself to get that edge.

The horizontal rectangle.
Later in my adulthood, I matured a bit and came into my own level of self-awareness and shape. I still had the edges required to speak up for myself, but have also had to deal with serious weight issues by this point in time, eventually escalating to being more than 100 pounds overweight. I realized I needed to make some changes in my life and habits, which would soften those edges toward a preferred hourglass shape, defining myself as a healthy woman. The required first step, however, would be the extreme weight loss needed to change shapes. My next step would keep me in rectangular form, but to turn it upright. Then, at least, it might feel familiar but with a slightly different perspective.

The vertical rectangle.
Still edgy and still structured, giving a new perspective. My vertical rectangle finally puts me closer to the hourglass shape I desire. I am surprised at times, however, when I notice “bony” shoulders; or a when a stranger calls me “petite”, or when someone assumes I am a size “small”. This general sense of being smaller is unfamiliar. I remember noticing cheekbones for the first time instead of the former roundness in my face. I’m really just an average shape, but it’s new and small to me; it will take time for my mind to adjust to what my physical body feels like.

The hourglass.
This hourglass shape is generally like the rectangle but smoother; softer; more interesting and fluid. A sense of shape but not defined by the shape. I’m moving closer to this image of myself. It may take a while, like watching the sands drop through an hourglass, one grain at a time, but it will be worth it.

Skydiving Sensations

2009-06-08T12:05:00.001-04:00

Have you every jumped out of a flying airplane—for fun? Yup, I have. Almost 30 years ago, several friends and I decided to take the plunge. We went skydiving. Obviously, I survived the jump and although it was quite a long time ago, I recall clearly the sensations surrounding the life-changing event. Like my Christian faith, the experiences during the process varied in type and intensity before, during and after the big leap.

Excitement fueled our car as the five of us traveled to New Jersey for our all-day parachuting event. My girlfriends and I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to float freely in the sky, even for just a few seconds. What would the training be like? Would we remember what we learned? Would we get hurt? Would we survive? Four of us planned to participate in the skydiving program and our fifth girlfriend was in charge of capturing the critical photos. We had to prove what happened, right?

This stage of anticipation on the drive to the skydiving center was like learning about my faith for the first time. Could I understand God’s Word in the freeing way it was being presented to me? Would I remember what I learned? What would I accept as proof?

Next I remember the process of learning the steps for a successful jump. There were skydiving practice platforms, about four feet high, from which we’d jump, land and immediately drop and roll to soften the blow. We were taught that the ground would come quickly, but our instructions were to look straight ahead and not down. Our practice leaps were to give us the confidence to react to the body-jarring thud in a safe way. We must have jumped off those platforms 50 times that afternoon. By the time we headed to the plane, we were ready for any solid ground that would come our way.

Learning about the Christian faith is similar in that it requires practice and baby jumps at times before a big leap can be made. Looking up to the examples in Jesus and not down at our current circumstances correlate to a stronger relationship with God. There are so many thuds in this world that the practice of rolling with the punches is a useful habit. Over time it gets easier and easier.

Then came the time for the plane ride and big jump. The process of equipping began. First the jumpsuits. Then the helmets. Then the radio. Tighten all the straps. Tie on the chute. Then the reserve chute. The feelings of fear and courage flip-flopped so often and frequently that I couldn’t know what I was feeling at any given moment.

My faith needs equipping too. The Bible. Praise and worship. Prayer. Christian fellowship. Getting involved. One fabulous difference, though, is that there’s no ‘reserve chute’ needed. Faith is all I need.

Sitting straddle-style and packed like sardines, we loaded ourselves in the cabin of that small plane and held our breath while the engine whirred to life. It was just us and that little plane now. It was time. There was nothing we could do to hear or think over the deafening motor. My stomach was doing its own jumping. My eyes were glued to the instructor’s cues. First girlfriend out. I saw the blur of her helmet through the small window. I looked some more. The cords of her chute pack detached and WHOOSH!—up she went into the long-awaited floating mode, the first step of her descent.

My turn. Gulp. Three! Two! One! JUMP! The instructor’s hand, hard on my shoulder with almost a shove, helped me out that open door. And out I went. Falling, flying, falling, flying; which was it? One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand, four-one-thousand, five-one-thousand. WHOOSH! I looked up. My chute was open. Sighing, I settled into the harness and realized that I was, in fact, parachuting. I descended slowly. It was peaceful. Quiet. Beautiful. I thought a bird might fly right past my nose. Distantly, I noticed the occasional radio instructions. “Turn right! Turn left! Turn left some more!” Getting closer to the designated landing area. The ground was coming quicker. The tops of the trees were getting larger. Just a few more seconds of floating, please. Beautiful, peaceful seconds with just me and God in the world. This is true freedom.

THUD. Ugh. Drop, roll, roll some more. The ground comes up at me with a bone-jarring reminder of being on earth. Grounded. Maybe it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

With faith, I can float in freedom mode while staying on the ground.

Summer Fair Food

2009-05-27T11:34:00.001-04:00

I have recently been reminded that my relationship with food still needs to change, after all these years of managing to lose and maintain a significant weight loss. Yikes! I thought I was finished dealing with this. The challenge of summer fair food is one more adventure where I’m not, and never will be, finished dealing with this.

I’ve been trained to handle large amounts of food. As a volume eater, I’ve practiced portion control and even learned how to indulge in larger portions by making those larger portions contain vegetables and some fruit. This works, most of the time. What I’m facing now, however, is the need to truly understand and practice portion control when dealing with the all-you-can-eat mentality found at buffets, summer fairs and amusement parks. Who invented this craziness anyway? The only situation that comes to mind is when Jesus fed the multitudes and he invited the people to “eat until they’ve had their fill”. Was this an all-you-can-eat-fest too? I imagine the indulgence that is implied represents the blessings above and beyond what we can imagine that God can bless us with, when we come to Him with only a little bit (like five loves and three fishes, or was it four loaves and two fishes?) and offer it in true faith. We know God can do anything, but did He mean for us to really eat until we’re truly full?

When I approach a buffet, I must admit it feels like a food fest. After all, it’s all the same price for me to eat more, isn’t it? We look at this as a good deal when it comes to money, but it’s not really a good deal with our stomachs, is it? When Jesus fed the crowd, it was about the money, too, since the food was free. I wonder if any of them had overeating issues back then. I’m certain someone must have had a bit more of a passion for food than needed, like I do. Why can’t I look over the buffet, decide what to eat, then get that, and STOP? What is it about the fact that the food is sitting there that makes it call my name?

I remember last summer when our family visited a local amusement park with the expected “summer fair food”. You know what I mean: funnel cakes, fresh-made French fries, delicious hamburgers, ice cream and even candy treats. It calls our name simply because it’s there. We smell the food and see the food; we see others eating it, and then all sense of structure and balanced meals go out the window. Maybe it’s the background noise that is so loud it deafens us to the sounds in our own heads to control our eating.

After two days of a food fest, I decided to approach our final day at the amusement park that summer differently. I prayed for help. I asked God to help me decide what to eat, what not to eat, how to think about it, and even how to stop thinking about it, for the ONE day. It seemed to be on my mind more than needed. What I sensed was the plan to choose one treat that day, which would be a treat that I wouldn’t have otherwise, or at least would be something I truly craved that day. What a blessing. I survived the day not only by having just one treat—which was orange and vanilla swirl ice cream---but the booth where I purchased it happened to carry a smaller size serving than the others! Praise God!

I am always in need of the reminder to take the one-day-at-a time approach to eating. As summer eases in with all its adventures, I can say: let the food fests begin! It’s been handled before, and will be handled again.

My 2 Cents on Kirstie's 80 Pounds

2009-05-14T12:20:00.002-04:00

Let’s see: what weights about 80 pounds? (1) 160 five-pound bags of flour (2) Two small children (3) A very large dog. Eighty pounds is a lot of weight.

I picked up the tabloid at the grocery store line while waiting to check out my fruit, veggies, fat-free products, whole-grain bread; well, you get the picture. I decided to read the first couple lines of Kirstie Alley’s latest saga. All I caught was the impression that she was “shocked” about gaining over 80 pounds and that she gained it by eating lots and lots of butter.

The butter comment irks me. It’s not the butter that’s a problem, it’s the amount of butter consumed and the frequency with which it’s eaten. The all-or-nothing approach to butter was the fastest ticket for Kirstie to take yet another trip on the weight loss roller coaster ride. It’s dizzying, and the only way to get grounded is to stop blaming the food itself and start looking at herself. What makes her eat? I wonder.

On the other hand, I can feel for Kirstie. It seems to me that she lost her accountability with the folks at Jenny Craig and needed the media pressure to maintain her slimmer self to satisfy everyone else. Obviously, it doesn’t work. There’s something deeper needed. Same thing happened with Oprah; same thing happened with at least a dozen other people I know who are not celebrities. Reaching a certain weight may happen under the pressure of something or someone else, but staying there requires the tenacity from within. Perhaps Kirstie was not “shocked” that she actually gained the weight, but surprised that it was possible for her to gain that amount of weight again.

But we are all the same, celebrity or not, when it comes to weight loss. That tenacity we need can only sustain us in a limited way. This daily weight loss battle is grueling and tiring, and, the icing on the cake is the realization that losing the weight isn’t as hard as keeping it off.

I’m thankful for this story as a reminder to myself that prayers are the ultimate food program and God is ALWAYS there for me to indulge. I’m thankful that I don’t need an unlimited amount of tenacity to keep the weight off; I only need to remember to ask for God’s help—again. And again. Amen.

Support Systems

2009-05-07T17:52:00.001-04:00

Okay, ladies, it’s time to get personal. It’s time to talk about support systems—you know what I mean: BRAS. Yup, I’ve finally accepted the fact that there’s just nothing quite like a good-fitting bra.

I’ve lost quite a bit of weight and as a result, my size has changed. Not just one size, but many sizes. My ring size, shoe size, jeans size and yes, my bra size. It wasn’t something noticeable overnight but there was one day when I looked in the mirror and noticed something was wrong. The outfit was okay, the shoes acceptable, but I was a bit, ahem, saggy. No, it wasn’t the clothes, it was me. I thinned out so that means I also flattened out. If you can’t change nature, you can get a new bra.

A girlfriend and I had the opportunity for a mini getaway a couple years ago which included relaxing, chatting and, of course, shopping. A small lingerie boutique was on the list of nearby stores to visit. It was one of those classy boutiques—the ones that are intimidating and alluring at the same time. It’s time to put the bra challenge to the test.

My girlfriend and I walked into the store with the scantily-clad mannequins and greeted the salesclerk with a skeptical smile. “Hi!” she said, way too excitedly. We jumped right to the task at hand. “Do you have those bras that Oprah raves about,” I asked, “the ones that help with the, uh, support I need?” Little Miss Excitement escorted us to the back section of the quaint store and presented the display of the ever-so-famous bras. All sizes and colors of these magical wonders were on display. I checked one of the price tags. “I don’t intend to buy today, but want to know if it’s really true that these bras really make a difference.” I clarified. Not to be swayed, she continued her Pepsodent smile and said “No problem! Let’s figure out your size and let you try it on. For fun!” She unhooked the measuring tape she was wearing like a stethoscope, ready to cure my ills. She measured and re-measured until she got the correct numbers.

Well, almost 70 dollars later, I made myself into a new woman! So did my girlfriend. These bras are amazing. Support systems really do help us in ways we never imagined.

The most meaningful support system in my life is my prayer life. Yes, I have wonderful girlfriends. Yes, I have an amazing family. Yes, I have the perfect bra. But God is the only one who comes through for me every time. God is like the bra that is always the right size, lifting me up when I’m sagging , making me feel better, stronger, and ready to face the world. I’m made up of the same stuff underneath, but with God’s support, I feel like a new person. Time to accept the fact that there’s just nothing quite like a great support system—no matter what size I am.

Binge Management

2009-04-27T18:36:00.001-04:00

Yes, you read the title correctly. Not Waste Management or Time Management, but Binge Management. An oxymoron. Binges are episodes of indulgence; if they were managed, they wouldn’t be called binges, would they?

Binge Management Step 1.
Get rid of the trigger food in my environment.

I am addicted to some foods, especially chocolate. Recently, I had the opportunity to try out a new low-fat dessert recipe which included a small amount of mini chocolate chips as one of the ingredients. I was excited to try something new, salivating at the thought of the chocolatey treat. Carefully measuring the chips, I knew I needed to discard the rest of the bag. Yes, it’s wasteful; however, my binge management system requires me to have my home environment be free of over-the-top addictive foods. Wasteful or not, I made the decision to do it—I tossed the rest of the chocolate chip bag into the depths of the trash can.

Binge Management Step 2.
Check that Binge Management Step 1 has been completed.

The rest of the bag of mini chocolate chips was safely disposed. Or was it? Moments after the gentle thud, the mini chips used their mini voices to call my name from the depths of the trash can. “Rescue me.” The whisper from the Waste Management system confirmed for me that the Binge Management mission was not yet complete. I needed to proceed to step 3.

Binge Management Step 3. Use only when necessary.
Remove the binge item from its current location and make sure it’s completely inedible.

I flipped up the trash can lid. Seeing the chocolate package, I went in. I found and removed the chocolate chip bag. This step was a dangerous one. I knew it could easily lead to the binge I’m avoiding. Time to make the chocolate inedible. Those chocolate chips were feisty; they required the Dirty Harry weapon of all time: Dish Soap. (music in background: dah dah dah duuuuuuhhh) A long time ago, I heard this suggestion which has forever been helpful in emergency situations like this one. Holding open the rescued bag of chocolate chips while attempting to avoid the decadent scent which already activated my salivary glands, I made my move. I poured the Dish Soap into the bag. This, I knew, was the only way I could quiet those cocoa morsels once and for all. This time, the bag was discarded with a thump.

At the dinner table later that evening, my children’s version of rationality changed the action adventure into more of a comedy. “Can you believe what Mom did? She poured dish soap into the bag of chocolate chips and then threw them away!”

I smiled and mentally blew across the muzzle of that smoking gun. Dish Soap is the 44 Magnum of my food addiction battle. I felt lucky.

Strawberries and Lard?

2009-04-21T21:19:00.002-04:00

Strawberries. Ahhh—the scent. Fresh-picked strawberries from the farmers’ market, still warm from the sun and ready to ooze red juice and satisfaction in an instant. Paired with whipped cream, strawberries are a beautiful sight, indulging the tastebuds of young and old alike. Cut vertically, strawberries reveal their heart shape in the center, symbolizing how deeply we love them. They’re healthy, too, which only enhances my personal enjoyment of these fruity treats.

Lard. What IS it? Defined as “The rendered fat of hogs, esp. the internal fat of the abdomen.” Yuck. It’s white, pasty with little odor or interest. Perhaps I could spackle the wall with it, I thought. Cook with it? Who would’ve imagined…?

My grocery shopping cart on a recent trip contained both strawberries and lard. The strawberries were on sale, and are always enjoyed in our home. The lard? Part of an old family recipe to make a traditional Italian Easter bread containing eggs, butter, cheese and the finale of the cholesterol-enhancing recipe, lard. I could have substituted lower-fat alternatives, I thought, but this was the real deal. I was baking something that was an old family recipe from my in-laws. This does not allow for change, I thought. How could I change a tradition?

I struggled with the crazy dichotomy of food in my cart. For so long, I’ve practice and mastered the art of making good choices at the grocery store. Why didn’t the cashier even give a second glace when she scanned the lard? I felt like a hypocrite, purporting to be a healthy example of low-fat living with a wad of the white stuff being placed in my bag. Somehow, though, it makes sense. Something about balance. I cannot be perfect like those strawberries all of the time. Sometimes I simply make decisions that are like the lard: boring, bland, unhealthy and messy. Tradition or not, we’ll have lard in our lives from time to time. It’s what we do with the rest of the time that counts. For me, it's faith in the Lord that helps clean up the messes.

Get Out Of Jail Free card

2009-04-08T07:58:00.003-04:00

Several years ago, I started a new game. Losing weight.

Like Monopoly, it goes on and on. A long game. A game with some objectives, but most times I have no idea how it’ll turn out. It’s familiar, though, not only to me but to everyone I know. It’s sometimes mundane, sometimes fun.

I picked my favorite playing piece, the shoe.

I like the shoe, not because of the implied exercise and health associated with it, but because it’s easy to hold. I simply like it. Reminds me to move in my own way, one little step at a time. I gathered my stash of cash: two $500s, two $100s, two $50s, six $20s, five $10s, five $5s and five $1s. The play money, like the weight loss training, support systems, healthy food and exercise plan, will buy me long-term investment in this weight loss game. I put the shoe on GO. It’s a new beginning; a chance at a healthy life.

I rolled the dice quickly and headed for Reading Railroad.

Full steam ahead. Gotta love those railroads. Like new habits, the more railroads I own, the better the results. I learned new ways to eat, cooked food differently, and enjoyed fruits and vegetables again.

Rolled the dice again. Landed me in a spot where I’m “Just visiting” jail.

I’m somewhat safe. The prison that I call a binge is a mental barrier that sees no light. All that can be seen is food and more food. All that can be done is the consumption of it. Since I’m just visiting, I can see what it’s like to be stuck in old habits, but still have the energy to move on. I survived a few events where old habits of overeating could have taken over but instead I managed: weddings, family holiday gatherings, picnic buffets, restaurant outings.

Rolled again. Headed down the stretch to Free Parking.

I stayed and rested a bit. I re-evaluated my new eating habits. I enlisted the help of friends and family to support me on this weight loss ride. I researched food information: calories, fat, fiber, nutrients.

Rolled again. Down the last corner, heading towards ‘GO’ again. Passing GO, I collected my $200 of new motivation to go around again. Time for a CHANCE card this time.

Ugh. Go to Jail, Go Directly To Jail, Do Not Pass GO, Do Not Collect $200. JAIL. The binge begins. I start to eat some food, then some more, then more and more until I decide to eat whatever I can find that doesn’t walk away from me. Stuck in the prison of my mind, I chew until I can’t think anymore.

This is the time for Get Out of Jail Free card. This is the time to simply throw down that yellow card and move on. No waiting three turns until a possible double shows on the dice. No paying my way out. Simply place the card and move on. It is the same “free” card I get with the gift of salvation. By accepting it, I get the chance to live my life differently. I’m so thankful.

Here I am, several years after starting this game, and I still need the reminder of this card. It’s worthless unless I use it, so I motivate myself to remember it exists and simply allow the freedom it provides.

I like this card.

Water, Water everywhere...

2009-04-01T10:38:00.001-04:00

Okay, it’s April, and we know what that implies: April showers, right? Since I’m not into gardening, I don’t think about the resulting May flowers. Instead, I wonder about water. Lately, the phrase: “Water, water, everywhere…” has come to mind. What’s the rest of the sentence?

“…and not a drop to drink.” Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink. What does that mean? I envision a bobbing sailboat with dehydrated vacationers out for a longer journey than they ever expected, in the middle of the ocean gasping for their last breath of life. All they need is water for refueling and all they have is an ocean of water surrounding them, keeping them from life. There’s no way to boil the salt out of the salt water to make it drinkable in this scene. Water everywhere can mean I’m drowning in the essence of my own life without the refueling that comes from having a life with purpose. Water everywhere can mean I think I’m pursuing a healthy lifestyle but instead am being sucked dry by the very information I crave. Water everywhere can mean I’m volunteering my time and energy to seemingly good causes, like feeding the poor, but instead am poor in my own spirit.

Water is critical for health, and I am very aware of drinking it to obey the eight-glasses-a-day-for-better-health rule. I have trained my body to be in need of an abundance of water, and am used to drinking it all day long. When I am thirsty, I am reminded that I’ll immediately get a drink of water to take care of the thirst, but I might not take a minute to sit and pray to take care of a spiritual need I might have today.

That ocean symbolizes the abundance of God’s love and availability in prayer, more than I could imagine. It surrounds me, but is not available to me unless I make myself available too. I have found that forcing myself to be still for a few minutes allows my thoughts and emotions to focus back on God who is always there. I believe He knows what’s up every minute of the day whether I’m thinking of Him or not. How cool is that.

Water, water, everywhere… I plan to drink more and drown less.

Walk it Off Tone it Up!

2009-03-27T15:32:00.002-04:00

I’m so excited! I participated in an online survey a while back for the chance to preview some exercise videos; last week I received some Leslie Sansone DVDs on my doorstep. The first video I’m sweatin’ to is called Walk It Off and Tone It Up. This workout is a blast; completely energizing and results-driven, just like Leslie Sansone herself! She guides me through the low-impact moves for 5 miles, but I can choose 1, 2, 3 or 4 miles for variation and flexibility. I love the use of the firm bands; they’re such a time-saver since I can get strength training while having fun with the cardio workout. There are two firm bands used singly or simultaneously to boost the workout.

I have had tremendous success using exclusively at-home workout videos. Leslie’s have been the best due to the low-impact moves that I was able to do when I was more than 100 pounds heavier, and are still extremely effective all these years later as they continue to tone and trim my healthier body! I am so thankful for these lifesavers: they save time and money. It’s incredible how simple an at-home workout can be to avoid stress related to getting the workout into my schedule; I don’t need to worry about the car, the weather, the gym hours. It’s great to just put on my workout gear first thing in the morning and have gotten the workout in before the rest of the house is awake! I believe these workouts make me a better person, a better wife and a better mom. What a gift!

Salt

2009-03-23T14:12:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a salt craving day.

Many years of dieting have taught me how to stay on my eating program and still enjoy the salty foods I need on a day like this. I indulged all day, the healthy-eating way: pickles, low-fat chips, fat-free cheese, diet soda, low-fat popcorn. There are times I need the salty stuff and have discovered that it’s better to simply go for it than to eat other foods instead, like I used to. I find it strange when the salt craving kicks in because it’s unusual for me. If I need to indulge, it’s usually the sweets calling my name. “Lisa…Lisa…Lisa” they chant. Those sweets know me well. The salt craving is different. “You—take care of me NOW” they say. My nursing friends could probably explain the medical reasons behind these occasional salt cravings, but the information doesn’t appease the need. And so I go for it.

Interestingly, our pastor spoke about salt yesterday, too. He clarified how we are to be “salty” to others—to enhance the flavor of our relationships with other people. The only way there’s any effectiveness from salt is when it’s in the proximity of the food it’s trying to flavor. Imagine eating a plain old white potato. The starchy, tasteless potato needs modification to be enjoyed. Imagine eating a teaspoonful of salt. Straight up. Salivating yet? Separately, these two foods, potatoes and salt, can be bland and unappealing.

Now imagine some hot crispy sticks of potatoes with salt mixed all around. Voila. Appealing, indulgent and delicious, the formerly plain potato has been kicked up a notch to a popular treat-French fries. Similarly, mixing it up with others can enhance any relationship. Together we can share a joke, and laugh until our bellies hurt. Together we can process our feelings and get reinforcement that we are on the straight path to self-discovery. Together we can smile, cry, hug and think. It’s in our connections we can become more than we are by ourselves. Proximity is key.

Today is a water-drinking day to offset the bloating from the marvelous sodium overload. But it was worth it. At times our bodies, and our hearts, have a craving and we simply need to respond. Now.

Do you crave salt today?

What is it about Mondays?

2009-03-18T18:31:00.000-04:00

I like to look at the various days of the week as different ice cream flavors. Picture some of the interesting choices on the wall of your favorite ice cream shop: Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Mint Chocolate Chip, Black Raspberry, Cherry Vanilla, Butter Pecan, Peanut Butter Cup, Moose Tracks. The weekends are commonly associated with a busy schedule; lots happening; like Mocha Chip Fudge or Double Chocolate Mint Cookie Dough. Tuesdays and Thursdays are a simple Vanilla, perhaps, or even Orange Sherbet. Wednesdays are perceived as a challenging day with their mid-week status combined with too much to do; Triple Chocolate Overload probably defines it best. Then there’s Mondays.

Mondays are just another day of the seven-day week, but their position at the beginning of most work weeks gives them an unfair reputation. What is it about Mondays that entitles us to wish them away to oblivion just because of their very existence? I’ve learned it’s about how we think.

What we think about creates a reality for ourselves whether or not it parallels the reality in which we live. We can choose the thoughts that enter our subconscious by weeding out the thoughts at the conscious level. We may think Mondays are dreary and burdensome, representing the start of more work, or catching up from the undone weekend activities. Another choice is to view our Mondays with an expectant hope for the start of another glorious week in our lives. Perhaps we can choose thankfulness for another day to be alive on this earth with new opportunities to fulfill our life’s purpose. We can decide to enjoy the start of the week for its indulgent gifts—start with a nut or two, add in some swirly confection and mix it all up in a delectable base.

What will be your flavor choice be next Monday? I think I’ll skip the Rocky Road and go straight for the Smooth Vanilla Nut Swirl.

Snow Day Meltdown

2009-03-09T12:55:00.000-04:00

Smooth new snow, like creamy white icing, covers the ground and presents itself to be indulged. “Yaaay! Can we go and play in the snow?” is heard before breakfast. The kids are up and dressed faster than on any school day. The knowledge that school is closed for the day fuels them more than the healthiest breakfast imaginable.

Time to pull out the gear: snowpants, hats, mittens, scarves and boots. Time to cover the floor by the door with a towel to catch wet leftovers. The tedious prep time does nothing to diffuse the anticipation brewing along with my coffee while the children find their sleds and put on their gear. It warms my heart.

But there’s another underlying emotion brewing. My own first reaction to snow sounds more like “Ugh!” I do appreciate the kids’ joy and even tap into my own childhood sledding experiences to conjure a fond memory or two. The reality, however, is that snow days are meltdown days for me. My workload increases exponentially on these days with more laundry and hot-cocoa-and-popcorn-production while keeping the house from becoming a slushy mess in the meantime. Out they go to sled and play; in they come with snowy boots, wet pants, crusty hats and mittens and those rosy red cheeks. There’s never enough room to shake off the hardened snow from the crevices of the coats and cold weather gear. Time to wipe up the kitchen floor again. Time to run the laundry again.

Okay, so you may tell me I’m whining. You may tell me to enjoy these times; appreciate my life and especially my children. Believe me, I do. What’s really bugging me on these days that that my plans are interrupted. I am reminded that I am not in control. Not fun. Not fun at all.

The joy returns, however, when I take a minute and remember that it’s okay to be out of control. Why? Because God is the one who is in control anyway. I can rest in that fact alone, and then and only then, can refocus and enjoy my many blessings – children, home, warmth, clothes, even hot cocoa – and hold onto the hope that warms my heart to melt the cold snow. This hope reminds me once again that God is always there and always in control.

Springlike weather is in the air again. The snow has melted and the days are getting longer. The meltdown of my emotions bring me back to the joy and hope from God to mimic the happy sounds of spring which are even sweeter than smooth white icing.

Exercise is Easy...?

2009-02-28T13:50:00.000-05:00

It was “Health Day” at the local elementary school last Friday. “What’s that?” you ask. It’s an annual event where all regular lessons are suspended in exchange for a full day of teaching workshops by local volunteers including doctors, scientists and health instructors to teach the children on a variety of topics focusing on how to get and stay healthy. I was invited to speak and demonstrate on the topic “Exercise is Easy!” Well, let’s say I was more of a demonstrator than speaker. Teaching young children about any topic is more effective when it’s engaging and action-oriented, so we had fun spending most of our time walking, kicking, side-stepping and moving to the music as I taught walk-at-home low-impact exercises. Energy permeated through the hallways and classrooms, and the students wore their enthusiasm all over their healthy selves as they smiled, sweated and moved with me. The teachers got involved, too, with chorus-line kicking and marching amidst the giggling in the back of the room. One teacher was apparently familiar with the exercise routine and found herself in the front of the room leading the group herself for a few minutes. It was a blast. I had the chance to see eleven different groups of children in 20-minute intervals throughout the course of the entire day from 9 a.m. until past 3 p.m. “Exercise is easy!”, I’d shout, and the kids and teachers smiled in agreement, class after class after class.

Until the 3:00 hour. It was the end of six hours of a variety of activities for these children, and my last group, a first-grade class, entered the room with all the energy they could muster. But there was a look of defeat slipping in. Instead of rising up to the boot camp cry of “just five more minutes!” one little girl looked me straight in the eye and shook her head “NO!” I looked right back at her with a sweaty smile. “We’re almost done!”

And done she was. Down to the floor she sat, refusing to go any further. Several of her classmates followed suit. I smiled and switched gears – it was time to stretch and relax.

That little girl’s honest response to the prompting and motivation all around her was a sweet treat. There are so many times in my adult life I find I do things simply because I should. Eat healthy foods. Exercise. Manage family time. Nurture relationships. The discipline and motivation for all these areas grow out of a maturity earned through experiences, decisions and life choices. There are times, however, when I realize it’s just as important to be as genuine and honest as that little girl who said “NO!”

“Exercise is easy!” was the mantra I taught all day at the school. The lesson I learned, however, is that exercise can be easy, but staying true to ourselves as this little girl did is a wonderful balance to all the motivation in the world.

Time Management

2009-02-24T18:25:00.000-05:00

Time management is practically an oxymoron--who manages time anyway? We like to think we manage time, but it's simply another commodity to spend. Once spent, it is gone, unless other currency with interest income or perhaps appreciation as added value. Instead, time is spent and as a result is gone.

Time, once spent, equals life. Our life experiences are simply the way we use this particular commodity. Our values are reflected in this way, too.

As a mom of young children, my clock revolves around theirs. I've learned each step matters, just like the weight loss journey, where it's not each pound, but each quarter of a pound that added up to the sum total of a hundred pounds lost. Wow.

Each precious block of time for writing will add up to the finished manuscript. Wow.

Communication

2009-02-12T13:21:00.000-05:00

Communication. Online. Whatever happened to the face-to-face stuff? This world of blogging has invaded my space and so I give in. I'm a writer; creating a website; working on the manuscript; hence the blog. Hey, it's another place to write; to vent; to work through the thoughts and perhaps someone else shares those thoughts. I'm refreshed by more chances to actually write but wonder about the communication thing.
Face-to-face means more than the words; there's the body language, the eye movement, the hand gestures that say even more than the words. Now its time for the words to speak for themselves.
Speak.