Love Must Be Loud

The were being typical little boys. "Mom, he did blah blah blah." "But mom, first he whine whine whine." And finally "I wish I could trade him in for a different brother." That was my final straw. I told them (for the millionth time. Not exaggerating) that they should always treat each ther with love, gentleness, and respect. I had them give each other hugs and say out loud  "you are one of the best gifts that God gave me." I make them say things like this often, because they don't  yet realize how strong your brain is.  If you keep saying it eventually you believe it.  So if I keep saying my brother is special, eventually the thought will stick. Or at least that's what psychologists claim... One brother enthusiastically grabbed his brother in a Bearhug/headlock and exclaimed "YOURE ONE OF THE BET THINGS GOD GAVE ME!" The other responded a little more quietly and even after multiple cues his mumbles could barely be heard. He was not putting any effort into this reconciliation.  Finally I explained that love must always be louder than anger.

Of course this confused them.

They understood that it is easy to express anger, hurt, frustration, and hate. Those easily carry human emotions into a loud, often explosive, physical state. But a quietly mumbled "I love you" is easily overshadowed by a screamed "I hate you." Ok, they got that one. So we moved on to finding Biblical examples of when love was loud. Love groaned in agony from the cross. Even as a desperate Son questioned why His own Father had turned away, he still chose to stay. For us. Out of love. When asked what the greatest commandments are, He boiled them down to loving God and loving others. 

I'm not talking about mushy, sentimental, country Western song love.  I'm talking about love as a decision. The love that looks at a person, flaws and all, and says "I love you." The love that makes a parent stay up nights and clean up vomit without complaint. The love that sees a man visit his wife long after her dementia has taken away any memory of him. The love that says "I could let go but I refuse." That's the kind of love that shouts as it works day in and day out. 

But too often it's silenced. 

I asked them if mommy and daddy always agree. No. Have we fought in front of them? *hangs head in shame. But we've been working on it. It's been a loooong time since an honest to goodness fight. But we still have difficult discussions and decisions to navigate. And we still will as long as we're married. But I old the boys that what gets us through is knowing that we're not going to give up. That we love each other more than were angry, hurt, prideful, etc.  The boys have already seen many failed relationships in their short lives. Their little friend's divorced parents. Grown siblings who don't speak to each other. Pride that is stronger than love and has torn families apart. They've seen much already. And they don't want it. So I try to lead them into making choices. The kind of choices that scream I love you! So that when the relationship is strained, when it's near breaking, they will know that love is still present. That they will stop and fight for that relationship because love is shouting don't give up! 

When anger is shouting that you must prove your point and be right, love must shout louder. When hurt gives the cold shoulder, love must be stronger. When pride refuses to reconcile, love must be the more stubborn . When all the selfish humanity inside you is screaming to put yourself first, love must calmly say over the din I choose to serve. As often happens, when I teach my children, I learn the most. Am I more willing to express how others disappoint me or how I love them? How will this change how I treat those I love? Will it challenge you?

"...Faith, hop, and love. But the greatest of these is love."

My response to the Frozen furor

Since the arrival of Disney's Frozen in the movie theaters, there have been both it's supports and vehement nay-sayers. Which is normal. This time, however, the conservative Christians didn't focus on the use of magic in the film, which is the want, but on one of the character's songs. Unless you've been living under a rock, you know the story of Frozen, so I won't rehash it for you. Here are the lyrics that are troubling to many parents:

                                         "Let It Go"

The snow glows white on the mountain tonight
Not a footprint to be seen
A kingdom of isolation,
And it looks like I'm the queen.

The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I tried!

Don't let them in, don't let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know
Well, now they know!

Let it go, let it go
Can't hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door!

I don't care
What they're going to say
Let the storm rage on,
The cold never bothered me anyway!

It's funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can't get to me at all!

It's time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me I'm free!

Let it go, let it go
I am one with the wind and sky
Let it go, let it go
You'll never see me cry!

Here I stand
And here I'll stay
Let the storm rage on!

My power flurries through the air into the ground
My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I'm never going back,
The past is in the past!

Let it go, let it go
And I'll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone!

Here I stand
In the light of day
Let the storm rage on,
The cold never bothered me anyway!

Lyrics by Idina Menzel.

And I get many of the points made. I'm a mom of three. It's hard to teach them right and wrong in our current culturel obsession with relativity. Having a song with beautiful animation, supporting casts including taking snowman and a cute reindeer, and a pop star singing doesn't make the issue any easier to ignore.

But let's take the story in context and realize that the song, although played incessantly as a single on the radio, is actually part of Elsa's character development. And it may be a cartoon, but the script was written by real people, so let's put ourselves into Elsa's shoes. have you ever been told that there is something fundamentally wrong with you? That the way you were born is a shame and a disgrace? That part of you needs to be hidden because of your potential to damage someone else? You may not, but I have. I once volunteered for a non-denominational organization in Russia. It was an opportunity that I had been waiting and working for over a period of several years. My dream. But I had a problem. My hair. I was born bald. Then as a child I grew thin, incredibly blond hair. Somewhere over the course of the next several years my hair grew very thick. Then at fifteen it started growing wavy. Not all at once, mind you. That would have been too easy. It started in different patches and took about three to four years until it reached a relative homeostasis. And I didn't have a clue what to do with it. I tried gels, mousse, shampoos, conditioners, hairsprays, hair cuts, and anything that any hairdresser would recommend. My mom and my hairdresser tried, but neither one had a clue either. Sure, I could straighten or hot roll it every day, but that took spending well over an hour on my hair alone. Time that I knew I wouldn't have in Russia. The best solution seemed to be to put a perm over the top of the natural curl to try to make it a little more uniform and tame the frizz a bit. Did I mention it's frizzy? if I don't do anything with it I look like I walked through gale-force winds. Back to the point... I thought I was doing pretty well, but evidently it wasn't good enough. I was told on multiple occasions, by men whose wives had stick-straight hair that I was somehow a distraction. That the curliness was often "unkempt" looking and didn't leave a good impression with the leaders the organization was working with. therefore I was instructed to keep my hair "plaited." Laugh if you want at the archaic terminology. But it wasn't a laughing matter.

Have you ever worn a baseball or winter cap all day? you know that feeling how at the end you just want to take it off and run your fingers through it just to feel some movement? Yeah, I felt like that a lot. I also keenly felt the sting that while these people were preaching that God makes no mistakes when He creates each individual, somehow just didn't apply to the way He created my hair.  Some people wither under such criticism, but my family had built some into me some good self-confidence so I knew that what I was being told was ridiculous. While I catered to the request demand made of me, not for one minute did I believe it was right. My sarcasm went into overdrive and I ran with the new nickname from my friends, Rapunzal. Check the name of the blog, I still use that nickname. And I will never be able to forget that someone tried to make me believe that there was something indelibly wrong with me that needed to be hidden for the good of others.

When Elsa reached back and took her hair out of the bun and let it hang down in a braid, I could identify with the feeling. When she talked about no longer needing to hide, I thought of another blond girl with long hair who desperately wanted to be accepted for who she was.  I was already struggling to make my curly hair look nice, and all I was told was that it was hurting the ministry. You know, many people actually like curly hair and think it's beautiful. Not these people. Elsa couldn't help that she had been born with the snow powers. And while her parents weren't trying to make her feel evil, their "help" only consisted of trying to make her hide them. ("Conceal, don't feel.") She lived in constant fear that the very traits that she had been born with and used to entertain her sister would in fact seriously endanger them again.  We both faced condemnation for something that was in our very DNA.

 While many look at Elsa's actions as running away (which she was), also remember that she was running towards something. She was seeking to, for the first time in years, be able to be unapologetically herself. When I got home from Russia, I scheduled a hair appointment that first week to cut the remnants of the perm out of my hair. I have no desire to ever have another one. I'll deal with my natural state from now on, thankyouverymuch!  Elsa looked to be in the neighborhood f 6 when the accident with her sister occurred, forcing her into hiding and preventing her from enjoying a rather fabulous gift. Who can blame her for wanting to be whole, to no longer hide behind a locked door? Surely loneliness with truth must have seemed better than living in isolation in the middle of a city and pretending to be something that she wasn't. Those were the only two options that she could see. There is a vast difference, as illustrated in this movie, between learning to control yourself and attempting to completely eradicate a part of yourself. Perhaps while we talk to our children about the song, we can also talk to them about developing the beautiful person that God created them to be. To learn to use the gifts we are given and to not live our lives in fear but enjoying the life He gave us.

That's my own personal story relating to the film, but I was wondering about the children.  So I asked the targeted demographic: my six and eight-year-old kids. They acknowledged that, yes, she was talking about not having any rules. But I asked them if they thought that's what she still believed at the end of the movie and they said no, that Elsa had come back home and was the queen. And everybody knows that Queens have to follow rules even if they get to change a few. They also answered that they didn't want to leave behind all the rules because they didn't want to be lonely. Although they did seize the opportunity to ask for a reprieve on the "no video games on school nights" rule. They tried, gotta hand it to them. :) While I would not want someone telling my children that it's ok to live with no rules, I think if taken in the larger context of the story itself, the children see the consequences of those actions. And no parents should let their young children watch movies or read books without taking the opportunities to talk with them and help guide them. Disney isn't raising my children. I am.

If you haven't seen Frozen, grab it here from Amazon. Disclaimer: This is an affiliate link.

Thankful This Year

   Wow, I have a ton of posts that I've started but haven't finished! I'm not going to sit and contemplate what that says about my personality... Instead I'll check what was supposed to be a Thanksgiving post and hit "post."
   It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was a year of gladness and rejoicing. It was a year of struggle and frustration. One year ago I announced with extreme joy that we were having a daughter. The long- awaited answer to several year's worth of prayer. But around that time I also started my struggle with preeclampsia and had already ruptured my Achilles. And the hard times were only going to get worse. Those things were most definitely not in my plans.
     That whole situation...my preeclampsia became bad enough that I was hospitalized and sent home on bed rest around 32 weeks gestation, and had an additional extended period (over three months) of being off my feet after surgery, I can't say enough times how blessed I was during that time period. I never want to go through something like that again. Ever. *shudders.* But I've also never felt so loved. I had two different friends clean my bathroom. I had more people than I can count from my church offering to come over and help with laundry and cleaning. My parents stayed for a while and helped Ryan work on the house and my mom stayed for a loooooong time to take care of the children and me. And while I was sitting on the couch for my second bed rest with my leg up feeling like a useless blob, God continued to provide for us. Quite literally out of the blue, He gave Ryan an amazing job opportunity.  I was reminded again, as I watched my husband work long hours during the harvest season and then come home to work hard to take care of us, what an awesome man he is.
     In the middle of what seemed the longest period of my life, I had tons of time to spend with my three beautiful children. This was the longest maternity leave I'd ever gotten (7 1/2 months!) and the longest period of time I'd been able to spend with the boys since my first summer in the PTA program. (which would be 5 weeks in 2008. Yep, a while ago.) I was blessed to cuddle with my children and watch my boys enjoy being big brothers as well as love on my new baby girl.
     The fall saw my little boy Landon take a big step in growing up and go to kindergarten. Big brother Nathan took little brother under his wing and explained all the rules of school. :) And just when I thought I was going to go positively, absolutely, crazy from being on forced bed rest, my surgeon cleared me to begin walking, and shortly thereafter, to go back to work. And the rest of the year has been us as a family acclimating and finding our new "normal."
     In a year of emotional, physical, spiritual, and financial, hardship, God also brought joy, love, friends, comfort, and blessings. I NEVER want to go through a year like this again. And I'm a little tired of doctor's offices... But I can be thankful for this last year.
 

Bed Rest

     Think about who you are for a moment. About your own wonderful and unique blend of God-given personality and the character that you've chosen to develop. Although many of this earth will behave in similar ways at times and you may find those that you share traits with, you are as one-of-a-kind as your thumbprint. My own personality combines my natural sanguine, free-floating spirit with a deep and fiery determination. The first time I ever read in history about the southern term "steel magnolias" it resonated with me. I found I could identify with the concept of someone being gracious, feminine, and ladylike and still having the backbone and grit to get things done when it mattered. At 15 I tore the stitches in my knee because I pushed through rehab so hard and also impressed my coaches at how quickly I was back on the court. In the PTA program I constantly heard classmates saying, "I don't know how you get it all done with all you have going on." My boss commented after one of the best April Fool's jokes I've ever managed to plan (that's a whole other story!), "you just don't give up, do you?" I grinned while shaking my head and said, "Nope. Not in my vocabulary."
     I come from a family of determined people. That's probably where a lot of it comes from. It's a mixture of optimistic "can-do" attitudes and a knowledge that sometimes sacrifices just have to be made to accomplish a goal. For me there was a lot of competition with my older brothers and trying to be seen as anything but the baby of the family. But there can be a darker side to this as well. You can only burn a candle from both ends for so long before both ends of the flame meet in the middle. Even steel will crack when exposed to too much pressure. And that is what has happened to me. My poor pregnant body has declared "enough!" I was hospitalized for two days last week due to high blood pressure, a potentially deadly condition in pregnancy known as preeclampsia. Even today with all the marvels of modern medicine there isn't much that doctors can do for prevention and treatment. They don't even know why some women come down with it and other don't. Currently I'm obeying my doctor's orders and doing the best that medicine can to keep both myself and my unborn child safe: restricting salt in my diet, taking blood pressure meds, and full-time bed rest.
     To say that I didn't struggle when my OB/GYN issued this edict would be a bald-faced lie. It felt like my world as I know it is coming to an end. Maybe a tad dramatic, I'll fess up to that, but it completely turned my life upside down. I'm used to constantly moving, coming and going, doing, being busy. What in the world am I supposed to do lying on the couch, and preferably on my left side? I've grown accustomed to feeling constant pressure from deadlines, house, children, responsibilities, and feeling that's just a part of my normal life. No surprise that my BP is high, I can often feel my pulse thudding in my neck and the base of my skull.
     In a conversation that my dad has had to repeat to two out of his three children, he related his own struggles with stress and blood pressure at a young age. About his doctor's warnings and the choices he had to make to become healthier.  In his early 20's my dad had to learn to stop and smell the roses more and to relax. And apparently that too is something that has to be learned in this family. Apparently I need to stop running and learn to sit and be content. Apparently I need to be more in the moment and stop worrying about what comes next. To stop depending on self so much, and rely on God.  To accept love and help from other people. Apparently  I have lessons to learn, children to cuddle and read to, things to mentally and emotionally let go of. Apparently this bed rest is going to be good for me for more than producing a healthy baby.

Farewell New Orleans

     Approximately twelve years ago I was in Russia and received one of the worst emails of my life. My dad has taken a new job and we were moving. From Montana, the "Last Best Place." to New Orleans. From Montana to Nola. I knew that dad's company was being sold and there was a possibility of moving, I just never expected that far!
     Now my parents are again moving, in reverse this time. Going from the South to the Northwest. Although not devastated, I find myself a little sad. I don't know when the next time I'll get to visit New Orleans will be. I will miss it and the free hotel. :) So one last time my husband carted the kids and me down to that grand old city. Once more I traipsed through Jackson square, chowed down on red beans at rice at the Acme Oyster Bar, and inhaled powdered sugar at Cafe du Monde. I didn't get to do everything on the list, but I got to do enough. It was the perfect day to say goodbye, raining lightly and a comfortable 60 degrees; a polar opposite of my introduction, a token that the city has come full circle to me.

     It was a roasting hot July day in 2001 and the humidity was full swing in a city I wanted no part of. Dad had dragged mom and me to the French Quarter in his eagerness to show off the "new" home. After wearing much of my powdered beignet, I debated whether the precious remnant of ice water would be better served poured down my gullet or my forehead and back. I was so hot and miserable that I daubed water on my flimsy napkin and wiped any exposed areas of skin, caring nothing about the wadded napkin remnants comically clinging to my face. Draped over the table to increase surface area under the ceiling fan, I remember hearing dad say "let's go walking" and distinctly thinking "are you NUTS!?!" let me remind you that Montana only has several days of 100+ temperatures every year and the humidity stays well under 30%.  I felt like a wilted flower. It took a bit before my body adjusted and I stopped comparing opening the front door to that of a blast furnace.

     People familiar only with Bourbon St. and Mardi Gras often refer to Nola with epitaphs resembling Sodom and Gomorroh, Sin City, and the like.  I can't tell you how many times I heard things like "New Orleans?! That's such an evil place. I would never go there." The truth is that you will go where God calls you. The truth is that, although there is great darkness, the city also has many who walk in the Light of God. The truth is that  a wonderful seminary is down there. It has refused considerations of moving, knowing that where there is evil and hurting, and people who are lost, there is a need for the children of God. The truth is that many strong churches exist in the city, who faithfully preach the word of God, who reach out to the lost. I made many good friends, who reached out to me when I was hurting and in need.

     This final trip down could only have been better if my brothers were able to make it. They both have those job-things that wouldn't allow them to take the time off. :(  My sister-in-law brought her kids down to join the party. What a party with four stair-stepped kids from 8 to 4! We had a girl's shopping trip, a visit to the childrens' museum, and an afternoon through the sprinklers. There weren't many quiet moments with the kids running amuck, but it was wonderful!

      New Orleans to me is a mixture of things I never want to forget and times I try not to remember. It was a great place to date--good cheap food, free entertainment. I had my first oysters there and learned to love shrimp. Also lobster, crab, crawfish, you know the expensive stuff? I don't miss the traffic. From both the city itself and my personal experience with it, Nola is a place that reminds me of the goodness and faithfulness of my Savior. It reminds of his power to redeem, restore, to heal. That was something worth experiencing and worth remembering.

Goodbye New Orleans. I will always love you.

*I tried uploading some pictures, but after blogger was being a pain and wouldn't let me arrange them and making me want to pull my hair out, I decided to save that for a different day.

Return of our Truck

All in all, I'd say that it's been a pretty rough year to be a vehicle in our household. First there was the traumatic death of our beloved George last fall. And then, there was the truck.
     The day was absolutely gorgeous, sun shining, moderate temperature, and I was having a good day with my patients. That was until our maintenance man appeared with a woman that I learned to be the facility's brand-new bus driver. It was her first day on the job. The maintenance man asked me if I drove the '01 Dodge and when I answered the affirmative, he dropped the bomb. "She just backed the bus into it." Yep, you read that right. A handicap accessible, 30 passenger bus had just creamed the passenger side of my truck. Parked truck. (we were later told by the body shop that it was within 1% of totalling out the 12 year-old vehicle.) I finished getting the patient back into bed before meeting them outside to inspect the damage and meet with the Sheriff for the accident report.
     The reaction of anger never really surfaced, praise God. I was upset, but I prayed that He would allow me to extend the grace that I would want in the same situation. After both the driver and I met with the administrator to call their insurance company, she even thanked me for being so nice about it all. I hope that day I was able to demonstrate the love that I have been given. And it's just a truck. (Don't tell my husband I said that! ;) And it didn't hurt to realize that it happened with a bus that was fully insured, thus leaving me with no out of pocket expenses.
     Another thought constantly running through my mind: how to tell Ryan. He did take it pretty well, after an initial minute of panic. Glad that I was able to get hold of him before he got home and found that in the driveway.   My company handled everything very well. It was just a pain in the neck to deal with all of the adjustors, insurance agents (mine and theirs), rental company, etc. If you've been through a wreck you know how time-consuming it is.
     Today we got our truck back. Black and sparkling. Dent-free. :) Happy husband. I was impressed with the body shop, as we weren't happy with a small detail on the door initially and they kept the truck longer to work on that spot. I was sad, however, to hand over the keys to the rental Impala. Those babies will move! Not that I was ever speeding in it or anything...
     So it's done. It's consumed time, thoughts, prayers, time. It's not big, or earth-shattering. Just a simple matter really. But once again, God demonstrated his faithfulness. Now I can throw the boys' bikes it the bed to go meet my running group in the morning. Actually, pray for that one. I've never taken the kids before the work schedules necessitate it tomorrow. There are a lot of scenarios that end with unhappy children and/or mother. Ryan's as bit skeptical. I'm pragmatic with as double shot of optimistic if that's possible.
"My God will met all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus." Phil 4:19

Most of the truck length

Pretty deep

That's better  

Breathing--it's that important

Picture from www.beckyjanedavis.com

If you walk into my therapy gym and ask if I tell corny jokes, I'll be the first person to raise my hand. I admit it, I'm no stand-up comedian. Additionally, my sense of humor is somewhat (ok, very) black and dry. Quite unlike the coffee I drink, but that's a whole other blog post... I blame it on my dad the engineer, his time in the military (even though he was out long before I was born, cynicism CAN be inherited), and an entire childhood of both watching M*A*S*H and listening to Aggie jokes.  Seriously, there needs to be a support group for people who have been forced to listen to Aggie jokes... So it's really no surprise that my collection of professional humor is really just corny, recycled one-liners designed to get a quick grin. Many times they contain a point that I'm trying to make to my patient while not sounding nagging. Several that get recycled more than others are "Don't stop breathing on me, bad things happen when you stop breathing" and "Breathing is beneficial. I highly recommend it to all my patients." They usually get the desired effect--the patient who has been holding his breath under the strain of whatever exercise laughs a bit and resumes breathing. This is an important step as I have a record of 10+ years CPR certification that has never been used on anything that can in fact breathe. I do not want to break this record.


Breathing is something I've been thinking about a lot this last week, primarily because it's been such a struggle secondary to a severe sinus infection.  One day my O2 saturation level was even below that of one of my patient's that I was walking down the hall!  After several sleepless nights filled with coughing and labored breathing, I desperately called my doctor and begged for the soonest possible appointment. And, yay for the strong antibiotics and prescription cough medicine, I'm actually sleeping. With the help of Afrin, I'm breathing again too! (and my husband is also glad that I'm no longer tossing and turning as it kept him awake as well.)  Breathing is beneficial. In modern medicine we tend to think of the heart and it's importance to life, but it was actually breath that was chronicled as the start of human life.

Genesis 2:7 "the LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." Job affirms his belief of the divine origins of life: "The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life." Job 33:4 Two chapters earlier one of Job's friends addresses not only the physical, but also the spiritual design of God, "But it is the spirit in a man, the breath of the Almighty, that gives him understanding." Job 32:8 (emphasis added on all verses.)

 Breathing. Spiritually, how are you breathing? Are you taking deep breaths and enjoying the sweetness of a God who loves you? Are you free and unrestricted with Him? Or, do you have something obstructing your spiritual lifeline, stopping you from filling your lungs? I'll confess that many times I let the stress of my life interfere and I forget to breathe. I find myself perplexedly gasping for breath and wondering why I feel so winded and weak. Bad things happen when you stop breathing. Instead of running to the Creator and letting Him fill me, I continue with the same, inefficient way of managing even when I know it isn't working.

Question: which is the more important part of breathing, inspiring or expiring? (breathing in or breathing out) The answer may surprise you. It's actually breathing out. When you expel the old, stale air from your lungs your body will automatically take in a nice, deep breath full of fresh air. What are you getting rid of, expelling from your life? Are you holding onto things that are slowly strangling you and preventing an influx of that which is good? For me, there are many things that I hold onto and stubbornly refuse to do what is best. It's not that I don't want to breathe, I just don't place a high priority on it when the truth is that time with my Savior is the most important. Without breath there is no life.

Breathing. It's that important.

What's in an attitude?

It was just one of those days where nothing was going right. I was ok, but scurrying to get things accomplished. She wasn't helping... Her negativity had increased to the point where the only thing to do was be very blunt with her. She usually chose to ignore me and complain anyway, but at least I had done what I could... As I came all but sprinting into the gym, I looked up to see her being pushed out of the doors. Before I could even form an apology for keeping her waiting, she spat out, "well, it's about time!" I grabbed the handles to her wheelchair, leaned over and asked, "do you think you could say something nice? Anything?" behind me I heard a combination of a gasp and a giggle from a coworker.

What is in an attitude? Can you control it? That day I remembered the words of a book I had read, called The Hiding Place.  Corrie Ten Boom and her family had been captured by the Nazis for the "crime" of helping the Jews escape from Holland. Let's repeat this, she was captured by the Gestapo for saving the lives of people who's only crime was to be born the wrong race. She had been separated from all but her sister. The two of them were placed in the notorious Ravensbruck death camp in Germany. Yet the two of them decided to maintain a good attitude despite their surroundings. Living in bug-infested straw, malnutrition, inadequate clothing against the winter, and daily beatings, the two women chose to maintain positivity rather than complaining about their circumstances. In her biography, Corrie describes that she arrived at her decision realizing that the Nazis had taken away everything and controlled everything about her life at that point. They could not, however, control her relationship with God and her attitude. She could choose to be content and there was nothing that her tormentors could do about it. She even chose forgiveness against her tormentors.  Shortly before her death, Betsie stated, "There is no pit so deep that God's love is deeper still."

No matter what, my Father calls me to have a positive attitude. He asks me to choose to trust in Him instead of getting mired in with my circumstances. Happy back to work after a nice holiday weekend everyone, here's a thought to start out your day:

"Happiness isn't something that depends on our surroundings...It's something we make inside ourselves." 
— Corrie Ten Boom

Heads Up

Don't you love how God created the world to echo His spiritual truths? I was with several friends and we were discussing some of the pitfalls that we were encountering with in our walk with Christ. One woman stated how God reminds her to get her eyes off the problem and onto Him, to hold her head up and follow God. Then it hit me.We walk better spiritually when we keep our heads up in the same manner as when we quit watching the floor while we physically walk.

This is a truth that I tell my patients every day. Every. Single. Day. I quip with lame jokes like, "You don't need to give your nose a head-start to the floor." and "You're not a gorilla, you're a human." Dance instructors will tell you that watching your feet does not help you with your dance steps, instead it hinders and confuses.  Keep your head up to improve your balance and safety. Keep your head up to communicate with your Savior.

Lift Up Your Face.

The Treasure

Take that, Coronado! Ponce de Leon, you got nothin' on me!!! Forget the fountain of youth and the city of gold. I have something worth way more than their treasures, and longer lasting. I have an amazing God. A God who does not give us unreachable dreams, empty hopes, or wild goose chases. He does not ask us to find some amazing discovery to be remember in eternity. He sent His Son to be the most amazing treasure the world has ever known. To be remembering, all we have to do is choose to follow Him.

On May 7, I was reminded again of just how incredible He is. That morning I got up at 4:45 am. (Yep, that's in the morning!) My dear, long-suffering husband even slept in Landon's room so that I would have the best night's sleep possible. Also, my alarm not waking him up might have played sightly into the situation... I downed 2 Aleve, a potassium/calcium tablet, and choked down a protein bar for breakfast while I unsuccessfully tried to drink a G3. (Grabbed by accident instead of a G2. Do NOT make this same mistake! Ever. Nasty. Still shudder when I think about it.) I vaselined every skin surface that I remotely thought might rub against other skin, fabric, headphone wires, etc. Pinned my bib on my T-shirt and made certain to grab the medicine kit as well as my iPhone, armband, and headphones. Necessities, you know!

I met the other ladies and climbed into the back seat of the vehicle we were carpooling in. Massaging and taping the sudden shin-splints of one of my friends helped relieve my nervousness, but I couldn't get out of the back of my mind what I was about to try to accomplish. The closer the car came to Indianapolis, the faster my butterflies flew until I was glad that I was unable to finish the entire power bar. A gargantuan task of 13.1 miles loomed ahead of me. We parked the cars and split up with our partners to head to the corrals. And suddenly it happened, my nervousness melted away into excitement. The old feeling I used to get before a volleyball game reappeared. With the help of my friends I had trained and felt ready.

That wonderful feeling lasted until about mile 8. My combination of walking and running had worked pretty well and my partner and I had been keeping a decently steady pace of 13-minute miles. Then came the Brickyard. The race brochures makes sure to emphasize that runners get to race on the actual track that the Indianapolis is run on. True. How historical it is. True. How it's wonderful and the highlight of the race. FALSE!!! They lie like dogs!!! It was dreadful. Now I know why humans run on a 400m track, because 2 1/2 miles is way too long. I kept running and running and felt like I wasn't getting anywhere. Also, due to the bowl shape, there is no breeze whatsoever. The only good part was the 12 or so high-school cheerleading teams dressed up in different themes supporting the runners. The worst part was that I lost my partner somewhere between miles 6 and 8. Alone in a crowd of 30,000. After exiting the track, the next mile marker seemed like it never came. I didn't want to give up, but I was having a hard time starting to run after every walk. So I prayed. My prayer wasn't to finish in under 3 hours, I'd stopped caring so much about that. First, I thanked Him for this opportunity and the chance to push myself, thanking Him for my friends that were with me somewhere on the course. I thanked Him for helping me make the journey to start towards a healthier lifestyle and the chance to teach my children about the principle of stewardship. I even thanked Him for the cheering strangers on the sideline that came out in the rain. The crowd, by the way, was amazing. Then my prayers moved on into claiming promises, for I know He keeps His. Like crazy I asked for the strength to finish what He had asked me to start. He kept my legs moving and I was able to run the last mile. 3:11. This is literally the longest that I have ever run. For that matter, it's the longest I've ever run without a rest break!!!

People that overly-spiritualize things drive me crazy. I mean, really, dinner mints with praying hands on them aren't any better than those that you buy at Kroger. It certainly doesn't make your candy any healthier! But this journey was way more than physical, it was a spiritual, faith-building, bruising, and uplifting journey. Along the way I rediscovered that the God that I serve sometimes uses physical illustrations for spiritual purposes. I learned that, with His strength, I can do so much more than I think I can. With Him, I can silence the voices that run inside my head, seeking to distract me. With Him, I can keep on trucking long after the point where I would have quit. And a bonus: once upon a time there was an extremely competitive blond girl who never gave up and attacked problems. Somewhere in the University of Real Life her drive and determination got shifted from sports to academics and career and family, and she started using the deadly phrase, "I can't." Worst was the fact that she felt that getting in shape again and taking care of herself was hopeless. At the end of the race I found myself planning for next year's race and setting a goal time. 2:45. There, I've said it out loud. Then I found myself on the internet researching others to run. It was then that I realized that the competitive blond girl was back, more mature, darker hair, and happier than ever to be running. God restores. He's amazing. He's my treasure.

He is Faithful

Back in December I had a difficult choice to make. I had been offered a job at my PRN (part time as needed) and wasn't sure whether or not I should accept it. The health insurance is literally double. Not kidding. Sure it came with a slight pay raise, but was it enough to even out double the insurance? Also, it was my PRN. It was convenient being a 5 minute walk from my house. I could work 6 hours on saturday and still be home before the kids got up from their naps. But if I worked there, where would I go if caseload were low or we had unexpected expenses and I needed extra hours? Having the responsibility of providing for my family sometimes really stresses me out.

I prayed a lot and talked with my husband, family, friends, and coworkers. I really wanted to work close to home and regain those ten lost hours I wasted weekly in the car. Ryan and I crunched and crunched the budget numbers and came to the conclusion that we didn't know if it would work. He particularly was a little nervous of what would happen if I gave up my PRN. The cry of my heart was to have more time with my boys. I miss them and they're growing up so quickly. Finally, Ryan and I made the decision to accept the position in my hometown. How could I not with two little sets of arms (and a big set) waiting to hug me sooner every evening?

I am happy to report that most of the weeks since I have accepted my new position I have gotten my full 40 hours at a minimum. Many weeks I even have all the overtime I can handle or have to turn it down to spend time with my family. Now that the price of gas has skyrocketed, a 5 minute walk is a definite bonus! The icing on the cake is that I have been able to lose 10 pounds. I walk home for lunch 3-4 days a week and get so many more hugs and kisses from my boys! When talking to a former coworker, she rejoiced with me when I reported all of this. "You choose to honor God by putting your family before your job. He took care of the rest." He has!!! Ryan and I didn't know the outcome, but we stepped out on faith and knew that the Father would provide for us. And I still have a PRN job. My former boss has asked me to do work a couple hours a week at a facility close by. It's so amazing what a wonderful God we serve! When the numbers don't add up, He makes it work anyway.

P.S. For those of you out there who are geeks, PRN is short for pro re nata, "as the circumstance arises."

Calming the anxiety

This was originally posted on my Myspace blog, but since I bare use that anymore, I decided to repost so that I don't forget it.

The day could have actually been a lot worse, I suppose. I got some of the laundry done, managed to get Ryan to his grandmother's house without forgetting anything, I had actually made it to work on time (and without getting a ticket).We met all our selling goals at work, got all of shipment finished, and nobody called in sick, Somehow I still felt more stressed after I clocked out than when I had started the day this morning. The drive home is actually a pretty nice drive and the deep rumble of the truck is usually soothing. Tonight, though, the rumble was irritating as it meant that I had to sit in an empty parking lot for 10 minutes to wait while the diesel warmed to a safe driving temperature.

Wait, while my son sat in his aunt's arms instead of mine. Wait, while the dishes sat in the sink. Wait, while my dog thinks that I've forgotten him and I can't even remember the last time I had half an hour to spend with my husband. Wait, and with all that time to think, I still can't figure out how to change any of the problems in my life. Wait, while I sit and calculate how much sleep I'm actually going to get after rocking Ryan to sleep and then waking up early to take him to his grandmother's so that I can open the store the next day.

The engine raised its pitch, signalling that it was ready for action. I greeted the change in tone much like a child greets the bell at the end of a school day, eagerly putting it into gear. It was dark and I had the lonely country roads all to myself. The speaker system in the truck is quite nice and was blaring all sorts of jarring commercials with quality. Do the radio stations program commercials in sync? Tired of flipping uselessly, I settled on a station to wait (again) until music came on. The drive was definitely not soothing my nerves.

Then cutting through the background noise with a commanding quietness, I heard these words sung softly"I'm finding myself at a loss for words /And the funny thing is it's okay. The last thing I need is to be heard /But to hear what You would say." The spinning in my head slowed a bit. "Word of God speak/ Would You pour down like rain /Washing my eyes to see Your majesty"

After rounding a corner, I leftt behind the knots of trees planted by the road. With not a cloud in sight, the entire sky opened up to reveal the stars displayed in a deep, velvet darkness. It was breathtaking, humbling, and inspiring at the same time. "To be still and know /That You're in this place /Please let me stay and rest In Your holiness"To be still, soul and all. To calm my frazzled emotions. To rest in my Savior and Sustainer. "I'm finding myself in the midst of You Beyond the music, beyond the noise" My grip on the steering wheel had relaxed by now, as had my shoulders and jaw. "All that I need is to be with You /And in the quiet hear Your voice" If I can just learn to be still and listen to His voice... I know that's possible... For tonight, for a few moments, I relaxed in His love, thanked Him for what He's provided and let go of my expectations. Tomorrow, as I have been reminded, I have someone to help me through it all.