Archive for the The Journey Category

I spent the weekend hunched over the gravel-filled flower beds in my yard. The decades-old river rock lost its luster years ago. Now, weeds and stumps jut out from the jagged dirt like crooked talismen. I am their undertaker as I plunder their roots and rip them from the earth. Someone thought the rocks pretty once, but time has stolen anything that ever resembled beauty. So I take my hoe, and I rake out the brambles and misshapen pieces, and I throw them into an old bucket. Then I stuff lawn waste bags with mangled stems and roots, and when I’m feeling frisky, I burn the rest. And when my body won’t cooperate any longer, I crawl into a hot bath and soak my aching muscles in magnesium-laden water. And I sigh.

It’s such a slow process. I have spent the better course of a year trying to find the earth beneath these awful rocks. I’ve lost track of the weekends–the sweaty mosquito-laden skin–and the unrelenting sun. And there are still truckloads of rocks to remove. I sometimes wonder if I was mad to attempt such an arduous project by myself, but I had a vision in my mind of my house not looking like the house even a ghost wouldn’t want to inhabit. I have a vision of roses and butterflies, and hop-toads perched beneath broad leafed ferns. And so I press forward. Because it’s not the first time I’ve looked at an impossible project and decided to chip away at it until my dream becomes a reality.

I did my first 3.5 minute plank last week. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think my body was capable of a 2 minute plank, much less more than 3. But I hit the 3 minute mark and I just held steady. I held until I couldn’t hold any longer. I tapped the stop button on my stopwatch and marveled over the mental toughness mingled with sweat on my brow. Because I’m just Margaret. I’m not super Sporty Spice. I don’t look great in a bikini. And I’m generally pretty humble about my accomplishments. Maybe it’s because I’ll never forget huffing and puffing up the hills of Ferguson, Missouri and feeling like my legs were going to give out beneath me. At one time I couldn’t imagine not consuming fast food. Shoot, I met my husband at Dairy Queen and I got my current job through a woman I met at Taco Bell. I remember the first time I attempted a plank and thought my back was going to break. I honestly didn’t know how horses do it. But here I am a few short years later and I’m still pushing past my limits. Not because I’m trying to make the cover of a magazine, but because I enjoy being strong. I spent my whole life being physically weak and dreaming that I could run. Strength should never be confused with physical perfection.

Still, some projects are just not fun. Ask the Roto Rooter man how much he enjoys his job as he snakes out your sewer drain after it backs up into your basement. But once that drain is clear, Hallelujah! But if you looked at the drain and figured getting it unclogged was impossible and decided to just let your sewer fill up your basement, well, that seems stupid. Any sane person knows you don’t want to live in a house where the sewer has backed up. For obvious reasons, if left unchecked, the house would be condemned. Funny how we can’t condemn and move out of our bodies when they become uninhabitable.

My home will never be on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens and I’m okay with that. I don’t need fame. I don’t even need to win a “Best in the Neighborhood” award. I just want flowers and bees and caterpillar-strewn parsley. And so I’m working in that direction–one ugly rock at a time. It’s the same way I lost the weight…one dreadful pound at a time. And one day I plan to sit back on my wooden rocking chair(that I haven’t purchased yet) and smile into the breeze as I watch the Swallowtail butterflies flit from flower to flower. That’s what I think about while I’m plucking rocks and roots from the dirt. So when my neighbors see me smiling and waving, it’s not really a mystery. If they ask me I’ll simply tell them… I am already reaping the harvest of joy–even as I’m planting the seeds. Because dreams are lovely and purposeful and fun. And who really knows what tomorrow will bring? That, my friends, is why I use two buckets; one for the ugly rocks and one for the pretty rocks. Because somewhere in my re-landscaped yard there will be a space where I can reflect on where I once was so that I can celebrate where I ended up.

“Mom, you’re scaring me.”

My little guy said this to me right after I slammed a pot lid onto the kitchen floor. It was not an accident. I am ashamed to admit I committed the pot lid assault after I finished screaming. I wasn’t screaming at my child, but rather, into the air. Because after a long day of persistent self-control, I was tired. I had stepped outside to enjoy the cool air(and hunt for toads for my little boys) after making dinner(no one said thank you to meatloaf) and baking healthy muffins for my breakfast for the next week. It was 8:30pm. I had walked back into the house feeling somewhat refreshed and ready for bed when I realized that half of the muffins I had just spent an hour baking—were gone. Our affectionate boxer dog, who regularly clings to our heels, was nowhere to be seen. There were large chunky crumbs under the cooling racks where the muffins used to be. I was furious.

“I’m scaring me too.”

I want to be a good mom, but I’m not. I can blame this on a lot of things, but mainly, I blame myself. I’m not strong enough to hold it together all the time. My kids love me anyway, but I don’t usually love myself. I have this big invisible bat that I walk around with and which I like to bonk myself over the head. After I have received enough sufficient lumps, I set it aside until the next time I’m bad. It’s called “The Bat of Shame”.

“I want to be good.”

A good friend of mine was fired at my place of employment last week. The event shook me to my core. My boss told me about it in simple yet vague terms. He said, “She broke a company policy.” I was devastated and instantly selfish. How would I manage without her beautiful smile? How would I cope without her sweet and sarcastic wit? I’m still reeling from it. I miss her face at the office. I feel like a hot air balloon that’s losing altitude. A pinhole in the material above me is tearing and the rocky ground below me beckons. Her termination affected everyone on her team. They are sad, frustrated and even angry. She made a series of mistakes and the rest of us are left to deal with the consequences. It’s not fair.

“I’m such a hypocrite.”

I write this blog about my journey to better health, but I frequently break my own rules. I feel really guilty about that. Last week my boss caught me eating Chick-Fil-A ice cream at my desk. He’s doing a 21 day cleanse. He didn’t say a word but I felt guilty anyway. And I finished eating it. I got caught and I continued in my “sin”. How many times have I encouraged him to give up sugar? To “just say no” to soda? To “be more like me”? I am an epic failure.

“What is grace?”

“What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?” – Romans 6:1-2
This morning on the way to work I listened to one of my favorite preachers, Chuck Swindoll(Look…I’m walking!). He was preaching about the Christian walk. His words comforted my heart as I thought about how I continue to strive toward personal holiness. He spoke about the freedom we have as followers of Jesus to not be enslaved to sin any longer. He used the very first verses I memorized in my journey to better health(Romans 6:12-14). Then good old Chuck said, “Since you are not under law but under grace, when you want to sin, you can present yourself to Christ and ask him to deliver you from the temptation.” I’m paraphrasing here, but in other words, he said, grace is the freedom not to sin.

“My loss of control is serious business.”

The truth is, it’s impossible to be perfect, AND my mistakes impact those around me. My “mistakes” are what prompted Jesus to leave heaven, wrap our injured flesh around him, and suffer tremendously. They are no joke. And while I take great comfort in being absolved from my sin, if I’m not actively striving to control my baser impulses, I’m spending his grace extravagantly.

I recently learned about Darrin Patrick, the lead pastor of The Journey Church. He was fired for reasons I will not name here. His termination has had a terrible impact on the people in his congregation. I would dare to say his actions have sent a shock wave through the evangelical and secular community. The secular community now has another “perfect” example for how Christianity is a great fraud. The Christian community has reason to doubt that grace actually works. Both perspectives grieve my heart because I stand on both sides of that fence.

“I deserve a spanking, Mommy.”

This morning I called to my young son to come and “get his goodbye kisses.” This is the wonderful ritual we have every day. I hug him and kiss his sweet little cherub cheeks. This morning he arrived in front of me—sans shirt—with a chocolate/caramel smudge on his chest. So I bent down and hugged him just as tight as I always do. Then I kissed his chocolate-smudged cheek. And I said, “I love you.” It occurred to me that all the worrying I’ve done recently over belly aches and high blood sugars(he is diabetic) are not because his medication is faulty, but rather because he has continued to ferret out any sweets in the house that he can find and consume them. I pointed out his transgression and he looked up at me with this sad face and said, “I deserve a spanking, Mommy.” And it wasn’t manipulative(although he can be manipulative). It was just a simple statement of acknowledgement. He knew what he had done was wrong and he knew he deserved punishment. (I did not spank him but he did get another lecture about diabetes and the consequences of recklessly eating sugar. I also told him he will not get dessert tonight).

“The simple reason is love.”

I didn’t speak to Tank(my boxer) for over a day. He’s a smart dog. He knew I was furious with him. He also knew eating the muffins was wrong or he wouldn’t have hidden from me in the first place. But this morning he waggled up to me with his ears laid back and the sorriest, most expressive “Please don’t hate me, Mom” look I have ever seen. I put my hand on his head and petted him. Then I rubbed his sides and said, “I forgive you because I love you.” And it occurred to me that God loves me the same way. He bears with my mistakes because he loves me so much. And I keep going back to him after I make them because I love him so much.

Love is messy, though God never intended it to be that way. When we love someone, they have the power to hurt us. But love also heals wounds. When we forgive someone who has hurt us, we build a bridge over an awful chasm they created. Building that bridge is always the right thing to do. Jesus is teaching me how to build that bridge because, after all, He is the master architect of bridges. My bridges are kind-of flimsy, but I’m learning. And truthfully, I am so glad his love is patient. Because sometimes those bridges crumble under the weight of me, and he is teaching me that the only way to build them is on the solid foundation of his love.

I went swimming in the big blue ocean this morning. It was glorious. The wind was cool, and the temperature a fair 71 degrees. I swam with the cows and breathed in the smell of a million sweet wildflowers. I went flying too. I skipped through the luscious blue sky like a perfectly flat and round stone. The wispy clouds were at my fingertips and the brilliant green grass smiled up at me and waved. Okay, so I didn’t really swim and fly, but I did ride my bicycle and it was amazing.

I’m so excited that spring is here. I’m excited I can ride my bike without 3 jackets and two pairs of pants. I’m excited to fly down hills without chattering teeth. I’m excited to see the sun crest over the horizon as the big bass jumps out of the lake next to the bike trail. In fact, the only thing I’m not excited about is bugs in my teeth, but I’ll save that for another blog post.

I used to dream about the ocean. I don’t live close to one and so I always wanted to visit. I wanted to play in the sand and swim with the fishes. I wanted to collect sea shells and chase little white crabs. I wanted to live there so badly I could almost taste it. So this morning as I was riding my bicycle, I realized that a different kind of big blue ocean was right at my fingertips. I realized what I truly longed for was right in front of me. I mean, I knew I was pedaling, but I felt like I was swimming in the pure beauty of an ever changing sky. And all those years I spent dreaming and wanting were really kind-of wasted when all I had to do was just look up!

For those who don’t rise early in the morning, the sunrise is such an amazing experience. I leave when it is dark. This morning the moon was shining bright and the stars were sparkling. Then gradually, the black turns to gray and then to blue. And if I’m really lucky, the sun pops over the horizon with a burst of color that lights up the clouds. I felt the sun this morning as I climbed the hill out of my favorite park. I felt the cool air on my back turn warm and looked back to see the hot pink sun shining at me. The simplicity of it made me so happy.

A few short years ago I stood in the shower in the morning and cried. I said, “Today I’ll do better. Today I won’t eat Taco Bell and candy. Today I will learn to control my appetite. Today I will start to lose weight.” I looked down at my aching knees and my giant tummy and howled in misery. And then I pulled out my elastic waistband clothes and my stretched out shirts, and I dragged my heavy body to work. I was in a constant state of grieving. I don’t know any other way to put it. I wanted to lose weight more than anything in the whole wide world but I didn’t know how. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t know what it meant to eat healthy. I couldn’t face life without a non-stop infusion of sugar. It was pure misery. Every. Single. Day. I remembered that feeling this morning as I soared down hills on my bicycle. And I was so thankful. I thanked my God for delivering me from slavery to food.

Gratitude is a funny thing. We say “Thank you” when someone opens the door for us. We say “Thank you” when the waitress brings us our food. But true soul-filled thankfulness springs from the realization that we have something precious, something we don’t necessarily deserve, something we never, ever want to let go of. This morning I understood that the longing for something I can’t have makes me feel very empty inside. Taking stock of the wonderful things I do have makes me feel full. The sky is not the ocean, but it is just as beautiful. My sagging belly will never put me on the cover of Shape Magazine, but I used to weigh 140 pounds more. Riding my bicycle isn’t swimming in the ocean but the wind on my face feels just as sweet.

Years ago I worked for a man who never had enough. He had a beautiful house, a pretty good salary and a lovely family. But every morning when I greeted him and said, “How are you?” he would reply, “I wish I had a million dollars.” And I remember wondering what would happen if he ever got it. Would he really be happy? Or would he want a million more?

My life isn’t perfect and I have about a thousand and one things I could complain about. But I’m not going to. Today I’m just so filled with gratitude and wonder at the beautiful world around me. Whoever you are reading this, you have something to be thankful for. Be it as simple as the air in your lungs or the sound of the birds outside your window….take stock of what you have and be glad. You’ll be happier for it.