A New Low

I am sharing a post from my ewight loss blog, "The Fight to Lose" because today's entry is just as much about my spiritual walk as it is my physical one, if not more so. And I think it's worth sharing, giving God the glory in my successes is key to remembering Who is Lord over my life, because I have learned very well, it isn't me! 

From The Fight to Lose:

Today is day 172 of my lifestyle change/ weight loss efforts. It's a big day for me because I actually find myself LOWER on the scale than I did when I lost so much weight two years ago. I think it's likely that this is the lowest I have been since before my baby girl was born at the end of 2001. I can't say that without absolute certainty because I wasn't one to weight myself for a lot of years because the numbers were so disheartening, but I do know it's the lowest I have been since my 40th birthday.


It's exciting for me because I have so much more balance in my weight loss this time. Taking care of my body has its proper place in my life. When I lost the weight at 40, I honestly think I was teetering on the edge of a midlife crisis. There was an obsessiveness to the process and it wasn't completely for the right reasons, I was very hung up on how I looked, and who might be looking at me than I was about my overall health and well-being and feeling good. This time the looking good (or better) is just a bonus, and not a focus.

When I lost all the weight the first time I was obsessively rolling out of bed every morning, every morning, to work out on the Wii Fit. Morning workouts aren't a problem per se, but I remember a conversation with a friend at one point where I told her, "God will always be there, right now I need to focus on me and my body." Um, what? Hello, danger! Danger! It wasn't very long after that that my weight loss efforts completely fell apart and I began the process of putting back on the 50+ lbs that I gained before this current effort to lose weight and get healthy in God's strength and not my own. I put those 50 lbs on in 2 years. I wonder if my friend wasn't praying for my perspective to get right. If she was, I am grateful because I know I walked right up to and contemplated walking down a very dangerous path.

In that season of my life working out became like an addiction. I remember finding myself in a hotel gym at 6 in the morning on a weekend trip with my husband because I HAD to work out, HAD TO. It was compulsive and unhealthy. I was on a marriage retreat weekend and focusing completely on me. That's a person I don't want to be.

Am I proud of this weight loss? Yes, I am. But I refuse to be PRIDEFUL IN this weight loss. I know it's not about anything other than honoring God in my body. I know it's by HIS power that I am able to have balance and make good choices, work out when I can, but never before or in lieu of spending time with the Lord. The only thing I find myself being regimented in these days is spending time with Him. I don't even roll out of bed without prayer, the Word and or journaling to Him. And every day I pray, "Lord help me lose the weight, but help me keep it in the right perspective. And NEVER let me become full of myself in the process."

I have been open and shared a lot about this weight loss/ lifestyle change process because I want to encourage others. With God's help ANYONE can do it. And if you do it with Him, it is a journey worth taking. All glory to Him!

As of Day 172 I have lost 50.9 lbs; I've lost 3" in each of my arms; 9" in my chest; 13" in my waist; 9" in my hips; and 5" in each of my thighs. That's 62 1/2% way to my weight loss goal and a total of 47 inches. That's less than 6 months, only 24 1/2 weeks, and I feel like a new person. It took two things, saying "Yes" to God and allowing Him to be Lord of my body, the food I eat, and how I care for myself, and then taking the first step with my hand in His. It's totally worth it, and again, ALL glory to Him!!!

Philippians 4:8

Sometimes I wish that the human brain came with a format feature like a computer hard drive or a camera disc.  There are so many days I feel like I would give anything to just create a "clean slate" for my mind.  Too many old habits, hurts and heartaches filter in and sully the current day.  It's like bad "swype."  Misspellings from my past pop up automatically even though I know what's right now.

Sometimes I wish I were a different kind of person.  I wish I wasn't so vocal and open.  I wish I didn't wear my heart on my sleeve and I wasn't so "out there" on so many levels.  Sometimes I wish I could go back and be different especially with the newer people in my life.  I feel like the "new slate" opportunity slipped past me, and I find myself cringing with regret.

Sometimes I wish I could just fade back into anonymity, and that my big mouth personality hadn't already created first, second and fifteenth impressions that I always feel like I am trying to overcome.  And sometimes I wonder if the sense of rejection I feel in most areas of my life is really rejection from others or just an issue in my own heart.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't just a thinker.  I wish I wasn't someone who over-analyzed EVERYTHING. "Did they mean that?"  "What did they mean by that?" "What were they really trying to say?" "What did their tone, body language, countenance indicate?"  I wish I was the kind of person who easily assumed the best, never looked for the hidden agenda and didn't spend hours trying to exercise by jumping... to conclusions.  I wish for innocence and naivete.

Sometimes I wish I could easily assume that people like me, that my confident fear that most people are just tolerating me, or worse suffering through me didn't feel so true.  An unanswered message, an ignored phone call, a cut-short conversation-- they all have the power to send me down a rabbit trail of assumption and rejection that I just wish I didn't feel.

Sometimes I wish past hurts and offenses didn't have such a huge bearing on how I respond and relate to people today.  I wish old hurts and offenses didn't make me suspicious of people that held no part in it.  I wish I didn't assume that most people in authority over me didn't approve of me.  I wish I didn't feel like "I'm sorry," had to constantly be on my lips even when I'm just sorry that I am, and not for anything I have done.

We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to take it obedient to Christ. 2 Corinthians 10:5

Am I the only one who finds the practice of that verse to feel like a full time job? Because I swear it is more than a nine to five for me and it is exhausting.  Truth be told I feel like I am failing at it most days, and I worry whether the crack in my thought process runs all the way down deep into my very psyche.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure , whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-- think about such things. Philippians 4:8

I think this verse is the best hope for the "format" that I am hoping for.  It falls short, because it does not clear the brain, the memory or the emotions, but it is a form of reprogramming that has the hope of the "sometimes I wish's" of life today becoming new experiences tomorrow.  And maybe, just maybe, the other negatives will fade enough with time and experience, that I won't spend so much time struggling under it all. 

What is true? God created me to be the thinker that I am, so there must be some good purpose in it, and if I let Him direct my thoughts, and the way that I process it is meant to be a blessing and not a curse. 

What is noble? I am the adopted daughter of the most High King, chosen and set apart, fully accepted in His Beloved Son. God has plans and purposes for my life that cannot be thwarted and I don't have to be fearful so long as I am under His favor. 

What is right?  God is sovereign, and whatever I have or will face in my life has not and will not touch me apart from his permission.  And whatever another might intend for evil, God intends for good. And He has promised to work all things, ALL THINGS, together for my good because I love Him and am called according to His purpose.  And in the end, he's going to use it to make me more like His Son.

What is pure?  Christ's love for me is pure.  Whatever rejection I may suffer in my life, real or imagined, God does not reject me, He loves me, He gave Himself up for me.  I matter to God. 

What is lovely? I can take my eyes off of these self-loathing thoughts and find truth to meditate upon in God's word.  I can "retrain my brain" to think God thoughts instead of the thoughts of my own corruptible flesh. 

What is admirable? It isn't all about me.  My sole purpose in life is to bring glory to God.  Do I serve others? Yes, but even in that the purpose is to honor and direct others to Him.  And even in my broken state I have the ability to be a vessel of honor if I will am submitted to be used by Him. 

What is excellent?  That these struggles and troubles are "light and momentary" and do not compare to the eternal glory which is to come.  Life is hard, but Christ IS worth it. If my own battles bring one moment of opportunity to minister to someone suffering in a similar way, they are worth it.  God enables us to comfort others with the comfort "which we ourselves have been given."  I have learned fr more about how to love when I have felt unloved.  I have learned far more about how to lead by the times I was mislead.  I have learned the importance to show I care in the many times I felt no one cared for me. 

What is praiseworthy? Christ. No one and nothing else is worthy of our praise.  All that is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent-- every bit of it, is rooted in Him.  

Oh what a messed up broken vessel I am, but I belong to the Lord and HE has purpose for me.  Come what may, my victory is assured because it is rooted in Him.  

Fallout

I have in my hands the proof of my second book.  I wrote and (self) published two books this year. Part of me thinks, "That's quite an accomplishment." But another part of me feels silly and foolish, and struggles through the whole process. I feel exposed, writing a book (or creating any work of art) is like taking a part of your soul and laying it out for all to see, and for any to judge. 

Self-publishing adds to the vulnerability. It means there is no "professional" involved in any step of the process.  I'm good with transparency, but vulnerability is far more challenging for me.  Laying out both my writing skills and my editing skills to the scrutiny of others is hard, not to mention the story and imagination that are behind them.  Ugh.

If I had a friend who wrote a book, I'd like to think I would support them and read it.  Maybe I wouldn't, but I like to think I would.  I know if I did I would be gentle with my criticism.  These two published works are actually my 3rd and 4th endeavor.  My first attempt at writing a book was thrown by the wayside when a trusted friend, someone whose opinion I valued and respected annihilated my with harsh criticism that in my heart of hearts I know was not related to the book itself, but it was a personal attack at me because of comparisons some else made between us and our teaching/ speaking styles.  I tried to be gracious, and dismiss the hurt. I didn't let it affect the friendship, but I never put pen to page again in that book.  It has four chapters that I never got past.

Homecoming, my first published work, has received some criticism for technical problems.  I'm no English professor.  But out of the same critical mouths, the story has been praised and I've been asked for the sequel.  It's there now, but I don't know if they'll read it.  I know there is one particular critic who will have to hear about the book from someone else, because she won't hear about it from me.  I already know that Fallout (the sequel) isn't perfect either, but I think hope the story is still important enough to tell.

I know because of changes we made in our personal lives (specifically our church lives) over the last couple years that there are people in my life who if we hadn't made those changes, would absolutely read the books and support my writing.  Those same people will now refuse  to read them for those exact same choices.  Of course, part of me feels very certain that if we hadn't made those choices, the books might never have been written in the first place. 

Just as much as there are many who fall into that category, there are a solid few who have loved me and supported me through those same decisions and these same new endeavors, and for the few, I am eternally grateful.  But the practical side of me looks and wonders, is "success" hindered by those who still resent me for being gone?  I can only speculate, and what a dangerous place that is to be.

It brings up a lot of hurt about the loss and changes in so many, many relationships.  Even though God has moved me to a better and healthier place for ME (and my family) it doesn't mean all that was lost has magically been replaced.  As I type that it makes me think of Job.  He lost his home and his children and after a long and difficult season he came out on the other side and God "restored to him" a new family and a new home.  But I can't help but wonder, didn't he still grieve and mourn for the family he lost?  Even if life went on, even if life got good again, he had to have missed those that were lost.

It's different. I didn't lose anyone in death, but there was much loss, and relationships died.  As I wonder about those who have been lost to me, I wonder if they ever think of me too.  Then I wonder if they think anything good.  It makes my heart ache.

It's funny (in a completely un-funny way) that the title of this book is "Fallout," because in essence, that's what I find myself faced with yet again, the fallout of decisions-- my own and those of others. 

I hold my book and find it attached to a plethora of emotion and struggle that it is attached to, and I wonder when whole and healed comes, or if it ever comes.  We are the sum total of our lives and experiences (but God), and even Christians have regret.  Even when we stand and proclaim over it scripture "all things together for good," or "what one intended for evil, God intended for good," we are not absolved from wondering what if or what might be.  And we still find ourselves grieving much of the losses along the way, even when God brings beauty from ashes.... or even as we wait in anticipation of the beauty to come while we stand amidst the ashes.

All I can do is take myself back to God's sovereignty.  He knew. He planned. He filtered. He approved.  Nothing happens, nothing touches us apart from His allowance, and even when it hurts or it is hard, He is still good-- all knowing, and understanding what I cannot-- the truth that EVEN this, He will work for my good.  And even harm that others intended for evil, God intends for good, and for His good purpose, which is so much bigger than anything I can even think or imagine-- His ways are not my ways, His thoughts not my thoughts, so high I cannot attain them.

But still the reality, the struggle, the pain and the loss are here. But I wait, and hope in expectation, for the Fallout that is the ashes I find myself standing amidst, are the ones God promises to some how bring beauty from.  I cannot understand, but I wait and trust in the One who promised it. 

In Jesus' name....

National Adoption Day

When the phone rang at 4 am that February morning, I knew before I picked up the line who was on the other end. "No God, we're not ready!" I cried out into the pitch black room.

It didn't matter whether we were ready or not. "My water broke," she said. There would be no putting things off, our baby was on its way.

I spent the morning rushing to make arrangements, trying to find the cheapest flight I could for Neal and I to make our way to Oklahoma. Jacob, home on a school holiday played nearby while we both waited for news of the baby's birth.

I was just sitting Jacob down to lunch when the call finally came. "It's a boy!" she told me, and even though we had waited to hear, it came as no surprise at all, the Lord had already given me his name after all. Ethan Mitchell was here!

The tired voice on the other end of the line began to share with me the list of complications, medical concerns and deformities. "Do you still want him?" she asked, the fear in her voice unmistakable.

Maybe because God had made it so clear to us that this was His plan was the reason for my lack of hesitation. It certainly wasn't more altruistic than that. Honestly, the problems were concerning, but the certainty of God's providence won out in that moment.

By then we had our flight, "I'll see you tonight," I assured her.

After our plane landed in Oklahoma City we got our rental car and began the long dark drive across the state. I prayed as Neal drove. This baby with all his challenges, I felt no personal connection to him yet. My thinker over feeler personality had a thousand different thoughts, feelings and concerns rushing through her brain.

It was after midnight when we finally arrived at the hospital. Special arrangements had been made and we were allowed onto the maternity ward to meet our son. Birth mom and her mother were watching TV while the baby slept in a bassinet at her feet.

We have our hugs and hellos before they finally placed the sleeping baby in my arms. He was an ugly, ruddy, broken little mess, the kind of baby you struggle to compliment to a new mother. I smiled, "He's beautiful," I lied.

They moved us into another private room down the hall, Neal, Ethan and me.  Ethan continued to slumber through the move, no apparent interest in meeting his parents.  Neal and I, exhausted, each laid down in a hospital bed, Ethan in his bassinet between us.

It wasn't long after I dozed off when I heard what sounded like the pitiful bleat of a wounded little lamb. Neal slept as I rose to pick up the crying baby. That was the moment, I picked him up in my arms and he, in return, captured my heart.

As I held the boy against my chest, soothing his cry, God busied himself with knitting our hearts together. That was the moment I became Ethan's mother.

That miraculous moment would be what carried me through many difficult days, months and years ahead before I was legally recognized as Ethan's mama. In fact it would be another three years, two months plus a day before we were official.

I had no idea in that moment that I fell in love about all the hard times and heartaches we still had to face. But God knew, and He had a plan and purpose so much greater than I could ever have wrapped my mind around that night.

But as much as I could never have comprehended the challenges and difficulties, it did not compare to my inability to fathom the mercy, grace and blessings that were mine to be through the miracle of adoption.

There is so much more to the story of our adoption and all the things God granted and taught, but it all began that fateful night in that little hospital room in Oklahoma where God forever changed my heart and my life.

Not Alone

I've been battling with my blogging here at My Walk of Faith. I've been trying hard to get a blog written-- in large part out of commitment to my advertisers, but not only for that reason. God has been teaching me so much, and I feel like I am in such a good season. Being in the word every morning has such a powerful impact. The fact that study has been on the book of James only intensifies the matter. "Live what you believe is the message," and it has just reinforced my desire to live my life of faith openly and transparently. And yes several times I have tried to (metaphorically) put the pen to paper here, but to no avail.

I have several blogs, one about my family, another about my struggles with weight loss, another where I show some of my creative works-- but each of these feel more like a hobby. The one dearest to my heart is this blog, it feels like a mission. The other blogs are glimpses into aspects of my life, this blog is the exposure of my very soul.

One thing that has happened for me as I've gone through Beth Moore's study on the book of James (which I sadly completed this morning) has been a sense of reassurance. It's been in the mix of the little off hand remarks she made through her video teachings that have ministered deeply to my soul. It's good to know I'm not the only one who struggles with certain issues for those inclined to share and to teach. To know that someone I admire as much as I do her (without actually putting her on any sort of pedestal) makes me feel a little less badly about my own battles and shortcomings. Even the typos in her book make me feel a little better about my own novel and its errors. It's funny how much just the sense of camaraderie can be an encouragement.

I think that's always been my heart behind this blog, to expose a little of the "warts and all" of life to maybe help others realize they aren't the "only ones." They aren't the only ones who struggle with a short temper, or yelling at their kids. They aren't the one who have to battle through bitterness and unforgiveness. They aren't the only ones who struggle with a tongue to sharp or words too caustic at times. They aren't the only ones who struggle with trusting God when things get tough even in the little things. They aren't the only ones who sometimes get off track and lose their way. That's why I write this blog-- in hopes that somebody out there will maybe stumble across it and realize they aren't the only ones.

The other reason I write this blog is because I know Jesus is the answer to all of those things. He is the one who can change us from the inside out, makes us braver, wiser, stronger, better tempered. He is the one who can grow fruit in our lives that all amounts of effort and intention will never accomplish. He is the One who will gives us the faith we need in hard times, and will show up just to prove we were right to trust Him. And He is the One who pours out the grace upon us when we still fumble, falter and fail-- miserably.

This Walk of Faith we Christians are called to walk isn't easy. It's not simple or uncomplicated. It's like a three-legged race with our flesh and our spirit and both members of the "team" are running for two different goal lines. Some days my spirit is weak and I move miserably to the goal line that my flesh is seeking after. Other days my spirit is strong, abiding in Christ, drawing power from the One who came to give me abundant life, and the spirit moves mightily toward its victory. It makes me realize that only one side of the tethered pair can actually "win the race." And it's all about one side forcing the other into absolute submission. They can't both be strong, one has to steal the other of its power if they want to get to their goal.

This blog is about encouraging the spirit side in each and every reader who stops to read what I have to say. I hope that I have accomplished that.

I don't know what the future holds for this blog. I'm praying to God and asking Him for His direction. I know that things are often (usually) seasonal in life, and I just don't know if the season for this blog has come to an end. Part of me really hopes not, but another part of me thinks perhaps it is time for change. I just don't know yet exactly what that means. But as long as I am still here and able to blog, I hope that you know, you are not alone in your struggles-- there are others of us like you who find the Walk of Faith a challenging one. And no matter how hard it gets, Jesus is there to see us through-- in that, find the greatest comfort of all.

Growing Grayer

I like to tease my husband about his many, many, many gray hairs. At this point if the "salt" doesn't outweigh the "pepper," the race is certainly neck and neck.  As for me I am still at the age and stage that I can stay ahead of my grays with a pluck here and a pluck there.  Sometimes I tease about being able to trace back a sly new silver visitor to a specific action of one or another of my children.

But the Bible says that "gray hair is a crown of glory, obtained by living a righteous life." (Proverbs 16:31)  I often think of "gray hair" as a sign of wisdom.  Granted this is metaphorical, for there are certainly many who have many gray hairs on their head but no wisdom to show for it.  But I have been thinking a lot about "being gray" and being wise.

I have spent as many of my 42 plus years as I can remember as a completely "black and white" person, a rule follower to the core.  I have always been a firm believer in there being an absolute "right," and the "wrongs being far broader and defined by it. 

The truth is, my rule follower tendencies haven't really changed, and my belief in absolute truth remains strong, but what HAS changed in me is my certainty that I actually know what that truth is.  More importantly I have relaxed considerably in my NEED to be right-- my NEED to convince others to see things MY way, and the NEED to win the argument in order to be at peace with myself.

I've decided that "at peace with me" does not compare to what it is to be (and feel) at peace with God-- a large part of which comes from being at peace with others. What I am NOT talking about here is compromise, I am not talking about sullying biblical truth with worldly values or ways.  I'm not talking about taking a soft stand on obedience to God's word, but what I AM talking about is realizing that the only obedience I can truly concern myself with is my own.  As for those around me, I have to love them, even in their disobedience.

That doesn't mean I shy away from speaking the truth, or rather The Truth, but it means doing so with a humility that understands that I, like very other Christian on the planet will NOT get it all right.  Perhaps that's why the Bible tells us to to "work out" our salvation "with fear and trembling."

It occurs to me that the unbelievers, moreover those who are actually hostile toward the gospel like to attack the differences in Christian doctrine, (safe for example, post- or pre-trib rapture of the church in the last days). They pick at the details and debate what they interpret as our confusion-- raising hands, not raising hands, dancing or no dancing, silly little non-essentials that are an excuse to disregard the giant critical unchangeable truth we all know, salvation comes in Christ alone.

St. Francis of Assisi said "Preach the gospel at all times, when necessary use words."  I wonder if better advice wouldn't be, "If you can't speak in love, don't speak for God." (1 Corinthians 13) It's a fine line, because the message of the gospel itself IS offensive, but we need to figure out how to let the message be the only offensive thing, and as the messenger not be offensive at all.

It's all very gray, and like the fog that it feels to be, I find myself wandering a little aimlessly in it.  I want desperately to get it right, but I am realizing all the more, that I probably never will completely.  An excuse not to try? No, but a humility realizing I need God's help desperately to muddle through. 

I have regret for the many in my life I have offended or put off in the need to be SEEN or understood as right.  I am realizing that even if and when I might actually be on point, that the love for the listener has to trump their instruction or correction.  Because if I am sharing it out of that kind of love, it doesn't have any value anyway, because without the love, they'll never receive it. 

As a follower of Christ, I have this beautiful gift, the message of the gospel that I have been commanded to bring forth to a dying world, but His intention has always been that I do it wrapped up in love, kindness, humility, out of a sincerity of heart that I cannot even muster for myself, that I can only accomplish by His grace and the power of His Holy Spirit. 

I am rambling, I suppose-- but I am just realizing that what God spoke to my heart a couple of months ago indeed needs to remain my focus-- "Love and Worship." They are the marks I must bear in order to bring Christ to the world.  The Truth isn't gray, but I must be grayer-- wiser in every way, thinking not highly of myself (or my perspective) but loving people just as Christ does. By Your Spirit, Lord, by Your Spirit.