Archive for the The Journey Category

If I listen to the culture around me I learn that Christmas is about eating as much sweet stuff as I can fit into my mouth, spending too much money on gifts and dressing up for parties. There’s lots of lights, more than enough glitz to go around and cookies–my goodness but there are cookies!

Cookies get me every year. Who came up with the idea of the Christmas Cookie anyway? Everywhere I turn they are laughing at me with their powdered sugar icing eyes. I can’t escape! Before I can say sweet tooth, I’ve gained 10 pounds and I’m fully sugar addicted again. And I can’t hide from Christmas. That’s not an option. So I have to stare my cookie addiction straight in the face and deal with it head on.

In years past I’ve come up with strategies to deal with my cookie problems. Denial. Self-control. Exercise. You name it, I’ve tried it. So when I walked down the hall at work this morning and the guys invited me to have some cookies they were taken aback by my curt response, “Nooooooooo!” It was more of a caterwaul than a word. A wail. A cry of agony that meant, “Please don’t wave cookies at me. I can’t stand it!” They looked at me and laughed. “Okay then, Margaret. Don’t eat any cookies. Good grief!”

I was at a luncheon with other admins at work recently when the dessert menu came out. I took one look at the picture of chocolate silk cheesecake pie and leapt out of my seat and fled the restaurant. Everyone was staring at me. I felt ridiculous and I didn’t care. All I could think was, “Run! Run for your life!” I didn’t know what else to do. I knew if I ate that chocolate silk thing I was doomed. Doomed to eating more. Stricken by false need to coat my throat with sugar, fat and salt. And I just couldn’t deal with it. I didn’t care what people thought. I just knew I had to run and never look back.

Today I survived the infamous office department meeting with the most beautiful Christmas cookies I have ever seen. Okay, I see them all the time, but every time is a new temptation. They were lovely. Soft. Sensuously sweet. And now I’m drooling again.

The truth about cookies is this, I don’t have a stop button when it comes to them. If I eat one, I have to eat 10 and 20 and 100. I don’t know why. It’s not fair. But something in my body goes completely berserk when they come into contact with my tongue. So this year my new strategy is an old one…just say no. And then don’t cry about it. Don’t obsess about how unfair it is that I can’t have them. Don’t listen to the lies my brain concocts about having been so good that I can eat just one. It’s all poppycock! This year, I have resolved not to eat even one Christmas cookie. Period. End of story. And that’s that.

Did someone just say Chick-Fil-A ice cream? Dang-it!

“Now I wonder if I’m really stout-hearted enough. ‘Cause my riggin’ is tattered and these waters are rough.” – Andrew Peterson

I haven’t been posting much because I have been going through significant change in my life. Big change is never easy and I’ll admit I have been very busy. I’m busy physically, mentally and emotionally. My brain whirs like a top, spinning from one situation to the next as I attempt to solve problems that don’t have easy solutions. I haven’t taken time to slow down and really process the way I need to because there hasn’t been time. So I do what I do best–I keep moving, keep striving, and keep hoping the wind and waves will settle down soon.

But the blows keep coming and this morning I woke at 3:30am with my heart pounding and my thoughts skipping like a broken record. I took some deep breaths but it didn’t help. I prayed. Nothing. My heart kept racing and my body refused to rest. So I got up and took a hot bath. I thought, “hot water will relax me.” Nope. My heart sped up, even as I did everything physically possible to calm myself. Then I started to pray because that’s who I am. When I get really lost in life I just cry out to my God. This may sound crazy for some, but God is very real to me. And then I started to cry.

I cried because I am sad at letting go of things that have mattered to me. I am losing something I love and clinging to the unknown. Home and place have taken on a new meaning. I am spacially disrupted and unhinged from comforts long afforded me. It’s humbling, humiliating and terrifying all at the same time. I’m not sure which way my circumstances will take me and I grieve what once was. If I sound a little vague, that’s okay. This is the internet and I don’t need to share all my intimate secrets. But for anyone who has ever encountered big life changes, I’m sure you understand or can relate in some way.

I believe the reason for this anxiety-induced insomnia is because of another great blow that was dealt me yesterday. Just one more wave in a choppy sea of encroaching deadlines. Last night I found myself standing in an empty basement while holding a flashlight and praying like crazy I wasn’t hanging my hopes on all the wrong things. Alas, I was.

This morning I come to the end of myself. I come to the end of my hopes and dreams. I come to realize there are some things in life we simply have no control over. For someone who tries so hard to control the little details with such precision, this can be a very daunting dilemma. Maybe that is why yesterday, when a good friend said to me, “maybe you won’t get that thing you really want, and if you don’t, that’s okay,” I flinched. Actually, I flailed. I balled my fists and screamed internally, “I have to have it! Don’t you understand?! I can’t imagine what my life will look like if I don’t!” This morning I realize I’ve been hanging my hat, so to speak, on the wrong peg.

I often cling too tightly to the wrong things. I grab food when I should go hungry. I exercise when I need to rest. Like my dog Tank, I run and run and run, but eventually I have to realize I can’t run from myself or my problems. Today is a day when I face them head on. And there are tears–so many tears.

I have to let this thing go and trust that my anchor will hold even if the masts split and fall into the water. I have to trust that though everything be lost–I will not. I am safe and secure in the arms of someone greater than myself, even if my heart is racing and my body is broken and battered. I have to let go and trust that God will provide even if it is not the way I want him to. He knows my needs better than I. But oh, I am so scared!

If you are walking an uncertain path today, know that you are not alone. If you feel you have no hope, know that is not true. Right now I feel much like a juggler with all my balls hanging in the air and I just dropped the flaming stick on my foot. It’s hot and it hurts. I may get burned. But I know from past experience that burns heal. Sorrow passes. Joy comes in the morning. I bear many scars on my heart but I know an excellent healer. He is my anchor, my shield, my defender. And I trust Him to guide me through this stormy sea. If you let him, He will lead you too.

This morning finds me reflective on the many good blessings I have been fortunate enough to receive this year. My family is all relatively healthy. We are safe and sound in the midst of great trauma. I work for an amazing company, who has been supportive and gracious in various difficult circumstances. But most of all, I am thankful to God that he continues to support me, even when I feel most lost and helpless.

We have watched in horror as our city is destroyed around us. The buildings I walk past every morning smolder in the early sun as my neighbors hide in their homes. The sounds of helicopters buzzing overhead and gunshots ringing out have become common place. It is enough to make anyone bitter as we wait helplessly for some kind of positive outcome. If I choose to focus on this heartbreak I quickly dissolve into a puddle of tears. Where is God? Why does he allow this to happen? Haven’t I prayed and prayed for Ferguson to be delivered from this evil? Why hasn’t it? Why do these strangers insist on tearing down every good thing the hard-working people of my beloved town have worked so hard to build? Where are the leaders who promised to protect us?

Last night I stretched on my yoga mat in front of the fire. I was cold to the bone and desperately trying to warm up. My youngest son stretched out beside me. “Mom, I want to do a sit up.” I dutifully pressed down on his 6-year-old ankles while he squinted and grunted. “I can’t do it!” So I asked him to hold my ankles while I showed him how. You see, he had never done a sit-up before. After I showed him how we tried again. This time he did 18 sit-ups. It was amazing to see his wiry little body moving. This strange, strong little man-to-be was trying so hard to be like his mom. I really never consider how great an impact my healthy lifestyle has on my children. Every day they watch me get up and exercise. I think my older kids could care less, but my youngest, who never knew me as a heavy person, wants to emulate me and it makes me so proud of all I’ve accomplished.

I explained to my son why it is so important for a Juvenile diabetic to exercise. Exercise helps regulate blood sugar in a way no amount of insulin will. I told him that exercise is one of the best ways to care for his body and he was so delighted to hear that, he insisted on working out with me this morning. We put great dents in the yoga mat while the news reporters went on about the new damage in Ferguson, Missouri.

I don’t know what the future holds for Ferguson. If I try to think too far ahead I get lost in worries that have no business occupying my thoughts. I know that I love my city and my neighbors. Watching the destruction is kind-of like watching a loved one be devoured by cancer. There is nothing I can do to stop it. I can hope and pray that the illness passes, but right now, I just don’t know. I know that good and responsible people are tired of fighting against people who consume without contributing. My neighbors who try to find ways of rebuilding are met with acrimony by those with bitter hearts who desperately want to tear down. Ferguson struggles to overcome the negative by contributing positive stories but those are buried by the larger, more negative narrative. The teeter totter rises and falls, but regardless of effort, the heaviest rider will land and plant his feet while the other is left dangling.

This morning as I jogged around Ferguson I saw people painting the boarded up buildings. Ferguson Optical has a picture of a beautiful tree painted on it. I stopped to say hello to the painter and her friends and told them, “Thank you! It is beautiful.” Then I met another woman who told me Wellspring Church is hosting free Thanksgiving lunch for anyone who wants to participate. Even among the ashes, beauty abounds. That is when I realized my prayers are answered. Yes, there is great evil in the world, but there is also great good. God is here. He loves us, and He shines through the darkness. Today I am thankful for His grace and goodness, even when the hope in my heart flickers. God doesn’t shy away from bad neighborhoods or violence. The story of Ferguson doesn’t surprise him. I believe he entered this story a long time ago and even though we can’t see Him, his love for us is alive and real.

Today I am thankful for 17 years of good memories in Ferguson, Missouri. I have lived and loved here. I lost 140 pounds walking its streets. I have raised my children here. No matter what the future brings, nothing and no one can take those beautiful memories away from me.