You Don't Get a 20 Year Husband Without 20 Years of Work

Yesterday I was having a lovely conversation with an international student.  She is a wonderful young woman; brilliant, kind, gentle and honest.

She was telling me about her father, and I was quite struck by how similar he is to my husband.  They are both men who work tirelessly for their families.  Her father worked an overnight job for many years, and would, upon returning home in the morning, escort his children to school.  He is strict, but loving, and she knows he would do anything for his family.  Her description of her father included this phrase, "His family is the most important thing in his life."  I was so pleased to be able to say in response, without any hesitation, and in complete sincerity, "My husband is so like your father.  Faith and family are the most important things to him."

Later, I was reading a few social media posts and articles shared by young women I know.  These post were all about finding the right man or tips on relationships.  As often happens, I found myself reminiscing about my own marriage, and how it has blossomed through the years.

The truth is, I have a highly coveted thing: a great marriage; however, it hasn't been an easy journey.  If I could give young women one piece of relationship advice it would be this, "You don't get a 20 year husband without 20 years of work."

I know a LOT of young ladies who admire their fathers.  (I do know just as many who don't, but that's another blog post!)  These women know what a good man is supposed to look like.  They know because they've watched their daddy for years, and now that they're ready to commit their hearts to another man, they expect him to be like their Dad.  What they don't realize is, they didn't know their father when he was a 22 year-old kid just starting down his grown-up pathway.  They are comparing the young men they know to a man who has spent a lifetime making mistakes, climbing mountains, conquering demons, and loving one woman and their children.

That's just not a fair comparison.

Next time you see your mom, ask her what your dad was like when they first met.  Ask her about some of those times when she wished he would be the spiritual leader she pictured in their dreams or read about in the plethora of Christian relationship books on the shelves these days.  Ask her about those times when she thought he would never grow up, but she'd be stuck with a 12-year-old trapped inside a man's body forever.

Then talk to the moms of 20-something sons.  Ask her about the changes and growth she's seen in her boys.  Ask her about the prayers she's prayed through the years; prayers that her children would grow closer to the Lord and more responsible in their lives.  Ask her about the answers to those prayers through the years.

If you're feeling truly brave, talk to some young men about their moms.  Ask them about how good they cook, or how tender, loving and nurturing they are.  Ask them about how adept she is at taking care of her family and balancing all the various aspects of her very busy life.

How do you measure up?

One day, you will have a 20-year husband and father...One day... in about 20 years.  It is SO worth the time.  It is SO worth the effort.  It really is.

Another V-8 Moment

Another beautiful part of my health journey is a dear woman, Hilary, who teaches Holy Yoga two mornings per week.  After spending a few weeks in a traditional yoga class, complete with buddhas and chanting, I discovered this sweet lady teaching yoga with a slightly different mind-set.  With a back-drop of intensity appropriate worship music, Hilary guides us through yoga poses that require focused breathing, balance, and strength, interspersed with Scripture and prayer.  It is an amazing time of full-body worship, and I LOVE it!

Today, on a Monday no less, I woke up at 6:14 with just 16 minutes to dress and fly to yoga class.  I ran in quite flustered, but Hilary quickly quieted us all and led us through a wonderfully intense, sweaty series of moves that left me feeling fully alive and powerful.  During the cool-down time of relaxation at the end of the teaching, Hilary read the story (see below) in John 5 about the healing at the pool, when Jesus saw a disabled man who couldn't make it into the healing waters on his own.  Jesus simply said to him, "You're healed.  Take up your mat and walk."

As I lay there, eyes closed, feeling my tired body relax into my own mat, I had a vision of the man jumping up and pushing his way to the pool to get in and be healed.  Crazy, right?  Jesus had just healed him.  He was fully, totally, completely, utterly healed.  How nuts would he have been to then use that power he'd been given to push past all those people to immerse himself in that pool?  

Yet, I realized that is what I constantly find myself doing.  Rather than simply accepting that I am completely healed, totally forgiven, fully accepted, utterly loved, I continue to believe I have to use God's power to heal myself.  Seeing that now in writing, I can't believe how ridiculous it sounds.  

How different would my life be if I chose to believe I am already 100% healed rather than begging God for the strength to heal myself?  What if I chose to live out of God's strength instead of my own?  What if I saw everyone else the same way...fully healed?  Hmmmmm?

The Healing at the Pool

5 Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish festivals. 2 Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda[a]and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. 3 Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. [4] [b] 5 One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?”

7 “Sir,” the invalid replied, “I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.”

8 Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” 9 At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked.

Too Sad to Sleep

Have you ever been so sad you can't sleep?  Tonight I am.  

People in my life, the people I should be close to, the people I should count on, the people I hold dear, are avoiding me, and it hurts.

My mother wrote me off 25 years ago because I left her religion.

My father wrote me off because I got angry at him and his wife.

My daughter-in-law has written me off and forbidden me access to my grandson because...well, I'm not really sure, actually.  

I don't think I'm a terrible person.  I try to be kind, merciful, loving, genuine, truthful...all those things I'm supposed to be. There are several people in my life who seem to enjoy my company.  My husband and children think I'm okay. What is it that makes me so unlovable to these three?  

So here I sit.  Unable to sleep.  I am sad.  I am hurt.  And I feel very alone.

Uphill...both ways

Part of my journey toward a healthy lifestyle involves physical exercise.  I have actually come to love hopping on my bicycle and riding around town.  Who would've ever thought I'd admit to enjoying exercise?!  It clears my mind and helps me focus in a way I haven't known in quite a while.

Today I had one of those "deep thought" moments while I was riding back from meeting a friend for tea and conversation.  The ride there was much faster than I expected, and I was feeling mighty proud of myself.  I had time to order my beverage, scope out and claim one of the coveted booths, and stop sweating before my friend arrived.

Although my ride to the coffee lab was faster than usual, it was still your basic Fayetteville ride...downshifting and struggling (followed by whimping out and walking) uphill then flying downhill with my feet off the pedals, channeling my inner five-year-old.

The ride back was radically different.  Fayetteville is one of those unique places on the planet where you really do travel uphill both ways.  As soon as I made the turn onto the bike path leading south toward my home, the wind practically knocked me backwards off my bike.  Every rotation of the tires required extra effort.  My eyes were watering and I was struggling to breath normally within the first mile.  It was then I had my epiphany...so to speak.

The ride to coffee was full of struggles uphill just like the return trip; however, riding against the wind made it practically impossible.  Several times in Scripture the Holy Spirit is compared to breath and wind.  When I take the time to stop and listen to God's Word, to be still and wait for that quiet voice to speak to me, I'm riding with the wind.  There are still hills...to struggle up and coast down.  I must still work, and it isn't always easy, but with the wind at my back I'm encouraged to keep going and to overcome...to prevail.

When I turn the opposite way, going away from the Spirit's direction, I am riding into the wind.  The hills seem steeper, and the usual invigorating cresting of the hill is followed by eye-stinging, breath-taking descent.  At the end of the ride, I'm exhausted.  Instead of feeling refreshed and focused, I'm just happy its over.

When it comes to riding my bike, even if I take the time to check the direction of the wind, returning home will be rough.  Thankfully, in life, I can throw some dust into the wind and see which way it blows, then ride with it all the way to the final destination...home.

Healthy, Wealthy and Wise

I'm 45 1/2 years old.  I am very hopeful that this is the midway point in my life journey, and its at this juncture I have decided to get healthy.  I've also reached the point where I think I might actually "get it."

Losing weight isn't it.
Riding my bike for 20 miles isn't it.
Looking good in a bikini MOST DEFINITELY isn't it.

"IT" is being the best me I can be.
"IT" is letting you be whoever you are.
"IT" is accepting that God is God and I am not.

So I'm dealing with the consequences of my first 45 1/2 years and entering this second half of my life with my mind, heart and arms wide open.  I'm aligning my physical, emotional, mental and spiritual being with my Creator, and am taking these first bold steps into the healing process; getting past my past and pressing onward toward the prize.

First Steps:
Physical - Medical tests to determine health issues
Emotional/Mental - Establish a therapeutic relationship with a trained Christian counselor
Spiritual - Read/Listen to the entire Word of God and return to daily prayer journaling.

Here we go...

Second verse, different from the first!

Seasonal Fruit

This morning I went out and picked a nice bunch of basil and made the salad I've linked below.  Tonight I'm serving this salad along with watermelon and mint, and a lovely marinated, grilled pork loin. As I stood there making a chiffonade of basil (new fancy-pants cooking term for the day - its described in the recipe), I was thanking God for the incredible smell of basil and mint and melon.  My mouth watered as I basked in the aroma of these sweet gifts and anticipated the first bites at our evening meal together.

As I took time to talk to God, He spoke to me as well.  I was struck by how much I love summer food...in the summer.  However, when September rolls around, I am ready to move on to pumpkin and apples and cinnamon and ginger.  In the winter, I look forward to thick soups and stews, piping hot, filling my home and belly with warmth and comfort.  Come April, I can't wait to get my hands on fresh asparagus and bright green lettuce.

Today, my Father said clearly, "Every season is beautiful and perfect, even this season.  I created the seasons, and I created you.  I knew when I made you which specific seasons you would enjoy and endure, and I love you.  Don't be afraid.  Every season is full of blessing, because every season is full of Me."

I've been wallowing in self-pity and fear, because I absolutely LOVE food.  I love to plan it, find it, prepare it, savor it, and, of course, consume it.  The doctor's recent diagnoses of various digestive disorders put an extreme limit on which foods my body can properly process. It will take a lot more planning, sacrifice and self-control.  Planning I'm down with...sacrifice and self-control?  They've never been my strong suits.  God knew I would reach this point, and He knows my weakness, but He is my strength.  He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies.  He anoints me with oil, and my cup overflows.  How sweet are His words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth, more to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb.

As I type this, the aroma of basil and mint oils worked into my fingertips wafts up and gives me peace. His words are life, and His changing seasons are welcome.

Basil, Tomato and Feta Salad

Shine a Light and End It

My daughters want to do it.  My daughter-in-law wants to do it.  My sister wants to do it.  All of the younger women in my life constantly talk and share about it.

It isn't cooking.

It isn't shopping.

It isn't exercise, styling your hair, refashioning clothes, getting married, having a baby, buying a house, getting an SUV, raising beautiful perfect children, or following celebrities...it isn't any of the things that seem to be such a big part of this American life, as evidenced by Pinterest, Instagram or Facebook (I don't tweet, but I guess you find all of that there, too.)

The younger women in my life want to end slavery.

Today, as I sat down on the couch in my living room, all set to drink my gallon mug of coffee, catch up on my social media, and do a little knitting whilst I listen to the mellow-voice-man read the book of Ezra to me, I was blinded.

On the east wall of our cozy living room, right next to the front door, there is an antique little window.  It still contains the original glass from when this house was built in the 1920's.  Across the street from our cool, old home, there is an apartment complex.  Every day there are about 5 minutes when the sun comes up and shines over the roof of the apartments and directly through the little window.  It throws rainbows all over the house, and its one of my favorite moments of the morning.  However, I've never been in the direct line of that light before, I've only ever walked through the indirect beams.

As I sat down and opened up my laptop, I saw a big red X on the screen, and then everything went white.  It looked kinda like this:

It made me think...about God's Word as a light for my path - Psalm 119:105; about how God is my everlasting light - Isaiah 60:19; about how we are the light of the world, a city on a hill - Matthew 5:14;  about Jesus shining in the darkness, but the darkness not understanding - John 3:18-20; and mostly, that the night is nearly over, and we should put on our armor of light! - Romans 13:12

As the sun rose higher, and I could again focus, I saw a big red X on my computer screen.  Today is the day the "END IT" movement has asked us to put a red X on our hands in an effort to shine a light on slavery.

So, I'm drawing an X on my hand, I'm forcing myself to watch all the videos that are posted, I'm crying and praying, I'm supporting my daughters, my sister...and all those with no voice.

We must not be silent.

“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” ― Dietrich Bonhoeffer

It may seem that changing a profile picture and drawing a red X on our hands won't do anything, but guess what?  Last year at this time, I could not have told you that the Super Bowl is one of the largest sex-trafficking events in the world...but we all know that now.  Last year, I wouldn't have been able to tell you how many slaves there are estimated in the world, but now we all can rattle 27 million (27 MILLION!!!!) off without even thinking.  We are AWARE.  That's the first step.  Now, are we ready for the next step?

For more info, click this link OR just follow my girls on facebook and click their links.  Its time to let this sink into our hearts and our consciousness.  It really is time to End It.

http://enditmovement.com/