Fat People. Everywhere

I know I'm overweight. Obviously (from firsthand observation), wearing a bikini top or any type of swimsuit is acceptable at the beach. No matter your level of obesity. Is that being secure in your body image, or just plain sloppy? It's a rhetorical question from my perspective, as I don't sunbathe. At all. My pale, white skin only burns and generally the sun gives me hives.


Yet, I'm appalled/intrigued by the number of adults who blithely parade to the pool, around the beach, with large guts and man boobs on full display. I'm trying to consider it "freeing". No need to suck in my tummy. Unfortunately, my conditioning precludes a totally relaxed posture.


What do people eat? Why do so many get so fat? I'm convinced it's a combination of over stimulation-numbing. Too much Musak. Too much film, Internet and television violence. Fear of being silent, contemplative, alone, unstimulated. We're all so over-stimulated from environmental and airwaves excesses, all-access to everything 24/7 with our electronic devices, that silence and solitude are a foreign country. A country everyone avoids--choosing to stay in the familiar, no matter how deadening.

We eat the fastest, tastiest food quickly, compulsively; without really chewing, tasting, savoring. We turn on music, television, videos, social media, Internet fog--distraction, noise.

Because our brains are filled to overflowing with the pervasive wild things of noise and violence, our sub-conscious runs for cover--seeks soothing. The momentary pleasures of taste and satiation; the diversions of the uncensored media... These wreck us. Our health and fitness deteriorates; our brains atrophy. We are all numbed-down and dumbed-down, reclusive in the midst of the maelstrom.

Living consciously, vividly, with an inquiring mind and a teachable spirit is a daily challenge. How to shut out the clatter, the excesses without resorting continually to mental and emotional withdrawal? Seeking to live a thoughtful and kind life requires tremendous energy. Strong character.

I can't think living well is even possible without the work of the Holy Spirit; the promise of God's peace that surpasses all understanding. The opportunities to be in the moment; to seek the simple choices to tune-in to and savor both beauty and quiet, as well the dynamic forces of our world and universe: the oceans, the tides, mountains and plains, the sky, day and night, twilight and daybreak, the clouds and the stars, the wind and the storms. Sunshine and cool breezes, stately trees and blooming flowers. The seasons and the passing of time.


We are uniquely human. We can reflect and regroup. Reconsider and re-invent. We can choose to live well; act humanely. We can take control of our five senses: touch, taste, smell, hearing, seeing. We have choices. We're not in this alone. We can walk closely with God, live and love as Jesus did, welcome the Holy Spirit to guide and remind, and rejoice in the realities of redemption, forgiveness, and life everlasting.

For now, the challenge is to live well and to be kind. To live life in the realities of this time and this culture, while pro-actively caring for our bodies, minds, and spirits.
Intentionality.

Meryl's Truths and Mine

 

 

Well said.

I might add:

I have no time for those who cannot extend grace to others; who judge without true insight. I value truth, honesty, and kindness above all in my relationships. Generosity of spirit, as well as resources.

I refuse to pretend that the wrong words and hurtful actions of others have no lasting impact on my spirit. I seek to do no harm, by God's grace and with his guidance, and to endeavor to live in this truth and grace. When I fall short, I will confess and mend my ways; seeking his forgiveness and yours.

Those who make no attempt to humbly right their wrongs and to accept imperfection in themselves and others exhaust me. Gossip and slander are devastating. Pretending otherwise is ingenuous and intolerable. We can be forgiven our trespasses, but still are expected to acknowledge our own as well as to forgive those who trespass against us.

 

 

 

 

 

The Beatings Never Really Stop

 

Not my story, thank God, but one worthy of documentation and remembrance.

Dating the woman who would become my wife I asked in the course of casual conversation about growing up, “…and remember when you would walk in the door and your dad would knock you to the floor, kicking and hitting and yelling?” She stared at me in stunned silence. There is no normal. The rational has been torn away from your ability to grasp it.

 

Being Heard

Had my second cataract surgery very early this morning. Very happy to be on the far side of dealing with this "old folks" malady. A few more follow-up visits with the opthamologist and I can put this to rest.

But, the big news is that yesterday I finally had a chance to address my long list of annoying, painful, and/or vague symptoms that have been kicking around and accumulating for several years. Those symptoms that 2-1/2 weeks ago finally drove me to choose to pursue a gluten-free, limited dairy, limited legumes dietary revolution.

I felt so very encouraged as I left the Internist's office. I later sent this email to family and friends:

I have just not been well this summer. Certainly we had a lot of stress earlier which easily could have triggered the worst recurring symptoms of pain, insomnia, fatigue, etc. that I've had in the past couple of years (or ever).

Today, I am one happy camper. I don't know much more yet about what ails me, but there was blood work to (hopefully) eliminate Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis. I'll have those results in a few days, and fully discuss with my doctor in two weeks.

He's also reviewing all the cardiac tests I had in February 2012 (before the Shingles rashes appeared to clarify what I was dealing with). My first medical attention that time was due to cramping pain in my chest. All those tests were good results, but he'll determine what if any should be repeated. I don't feel at all like my heart-health is impaired, but with some labored breathing and fatigue we have to check...

After that, if nothing shows up, we will proceed as if I have an Auto-Immune Disorder. Probably Fibromyalgia. He will change-out the Lexapro I've taken for a number of years (periodic anxiety and agitation (a bit of depression)) for Cymbalta, which is in the same drug family but has added properties that calm down nerve endings. I could take Lyrica for the same symptoms (took for nerve pain when I had Shingles), but he prefers to stay in the same drug family as Lexapro for now.

I worked late into last night (after we came home from Small Group) to organize my research and symptoms, and to consolidate into a few brief statements. I had documented my symptoms from mid-June to mid-August, and he had that list scanned into my medical records.

During the past months, he pretty much brushed off any attempt at conversation around my fatigue and pain. I was fairly certain I'd have to find a new doctor, but today he was kind, gracious, and consoling--what we've come to expect of him over the 35+ years he's been our Internist.

Interestingly, ten days ago his very youthful and fit 65-year-old wife's heart randomly went into Tachycardia, just like CA's. He was very vocal about understanding what CA and our family had just been through and wanted to make sure I told CA that they identified strongly with our experience. His wife's heart reset itself, thankfully, so she didn't require cardiac ablation. She's on blood thinners, etc. for the rest of her life or until she requires more attention. Being married to a doctor will facilitate monitoring her INR levels much more conveniently than CA experiences. Thankfully, CA should be off Coumadin mid-September.

Anyway... I'm hopeful that many health-risk channels will be eliminated and that treatment will be as easy as changing meds. Cymbalta won't cure me, but less nerve irritation should result in better sleep and general well-being.

Lexapro is the only Rx I take, so far! My blood pressure dances around borderline, then settles into normal range, and my cholesterol has always been mid to high normal.

Enough about me! Really. I'm doing all I can with nutrition, and plan to up the exercise quotient once I'm recovered from this second cataract procedure (tomorrow). I expect good results.

I know, TMI.

As responses and encouragement emails have come in, I am interested in a recurring theme. At least three female family members and friends remarked that it is so good "to be heard." Interesting.

I know our world is full of pop-psychology and self-help lingo, but these women are thoughtful, introspective women of faith and wisdom. They probably wouldn't voluntarily call themselves feminists, but they each recognize on a deep level that every woman deserves to be heard. And, I'm pretty we are all more self-aware and self-confident than our mothers ever knew to be.

 

 

A Birthday Letter to My Brother

I was surprised at how much you hate this photo. I find it winsome and touching.

You were a little boy. A much longed-for and loved little boy. Unfortunately mom was not up to taking care of you; keeping track of all the things mommies do for their little boys. That doesn't lessen her love of you, nor does it excuse their lack of attention to your needs.

You were raised by wolves, yet you've managed to become a worthwhile, charming, intelligent, loving man. Good for you. Bad on them.

I think when you see this photo you don't want to feel that pain, suffer those memories again. I do not enjoy strolls down memory lane re: my growing up years, either. When I see this photo, It reminds me of your sweetness and the fun we had with you. I love your innocence, and a couple of my grandkids look a bit like this photo of you.

Everyone has a story. It's what you do after that counts. (Sue Miller's For Love.)

We write our own stories. (Don Miller, et al.)

Sometimes you need to let go of your old stories to make room for the new ones God is writing with you.

 

We mostly weren't beaten or ever locked up, so its hard to allow ourselves to acknowledge there was emotional abuse and certainly neglect. Yelling, empty threats, shaming, rage, embarrassment, disappointment--plenty. Yet, we had grandparents and aunts who loved and trained us, and they along with mom covered us in prayer. God is faithful.

I think having been a part of the first 5 kids--your sisters shared and reinforced the good memories. Some of us pretend they were all good. You were just too young while your sisters were at home to remember all the love we showered on you. And, our grandparents were older and less active by the time you could have most benefited; although I know you treasure your memories of both sets.

So, I'm loving this reminder of my baby brother. You've always had to make it up as you go along. Guess what, so did your sisters.

Now write a great story with the next chapters of your life.

 

 

Aging

 

 

-source-

I've never minded getting older. At least until my 60s. I still don't mind terribly. I just hate the age spots. More than the wrinkles.

First thing in the morning CA and I resemble Neanderthals until our muscles and ligaments get warmed up and we can finally straighten our backs. Some mornings require Yoga stretches. Most mornings require Advil.

I love being a grandma, and I love being invisible. Middle-age and Elderly women are like celophane--invisible. That's freeing. No worries. Sweatpants out and about? No one notices. No make-up? Ditto. I have freedom to move about, observe, and eavesdrop at will. I'm invisible.

I try not to "sweat the small stuff." I know I've acquired some wisdom from living. A perspective on the "bigger picture."

I have time to grant wishes for my Fun Kids. Bake cookies? Sure. M&Ms or shapes? Teach sewing? Let's get out the machine. Pillow? Purse? Pocket heart? Take your turn. We can make anything. Tic-Tac-Toe? Will you be "X's" or "O's?"

A Bear Hunt? Get your flashlights! Let's sing a-long. "We're going on a Bear Hunt. We're going on a Bear Hunt. I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid..."

Let me brush your hair. You have beautiful hair. You're such a nice boy/girl. I'm very proud of you. Did you know that grandma prays for you every day? Bunches of times a day.

 

The hardest part of getting older? Aging parents and siblings. Confusion, mania, depression. Illness, surgeries, anger. Theirs, not mine. Mine are a whole different issue!

 

I think more about death. My life as a widow, or CA's as a widower. Our differing funeral wishes. I want no fuss, no muss--cremation and a simple graveside service. CA leans way into the traditional--visitation (wake), a coffin, and the full funeral rites. We don't have to match.

 

When KG asked us to reflect on Aging and to write a short summary for Small Group tonight I immediately remembered this photo and the cute comment that accompanies it.

 

 

Real Love

... Love has to be tough and uncomfortable, and it has to sting if it's going to prove to be real and last for the long haul. Love that's too timid to ache isn't love at all.

Pg. 31

The Rook

by Steven James

 

Well said. A jewel hidden in the pages of an FBI procedural novel.

 

Not the popular culture's view of love, for sure. But in the midst of months and months of walking alongside encouraging, questionning, and challenging my brother, it's the love he needs. And, it's the only love I can offer.

 

I've grieved his circumstances. I'm angry at his choices and lethargy. I've exhausted myself emotionally, but the anger has helped me to regain the healthy emotional distance I need for the long haul.

 

I can pray, but I'm done with the advice. He's extremely intelligent. He remembers much. He's heard it all. Taking action is his downfall.

 

Favorite Verse and Life Lessons

‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Jeremiah 29:11

 

 

Joe Stowell, today's Strength for the Journey...

I’ll be the first to admit that trusting in God’s providence is hard to do when it comes to difficult circumstances over which I have no control. God’s work is often behind-the-scenes, hidden from our view. He doesn’t give a play-by-play on everything He is doing to coordinate the details of His providential plans. In fact, often His work is most clearly seen in the rearview mirror. But I’ve looked back enough times to see and trust that my life is not a product of good or bad luck, or of random coincidences. It is divinely shaped and guided by the providential hand of God toward a wonderful conclusion.

So today, let’s choose to align our perspective and even our vocabulary with God’s. No more “luck” and no more “coincidences”! It won’t make for memorable movie quotes, but it will make for an infinitely more meaningful and biblically lived life!

 

How True!

 

http://www.juliasgreetings.blogspot.co.uk%2F&h=WAQFI3s70&s=1

 

It All Goes Back in the Box

http://bradfrostweb.com/blog/post/monopoly-photoshop-template/

 

 

This is considered one of John Ortberg's best messages ever. Today I'm as blessed hearing it as I've been every time.

 

It's so true. It All Goes Back in the Box.

 

RESURRECTION DOUBT (The healthy kind...)

kellyolexa.com

Our son forwarded this link to us, and I love it!

This Sunday millions of Christians will raise their voices to share in the ancient Easter acclamation, "Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!"

But what if you don't believe in resurrection, or at least aren't sure? Perhaps you've been attending church for years but feel a little left out, even guilty, on Easter morning as you wonder whether Christ was really raised from the dead. Or maybe you don't often go to church but are willing to concede a "spiritual" meaning as you attend Easter service with your in-laws. Or perhaps you flat out think resurrection is fantasy, something that just couldn't happen.

If any of these conditions describes you, it turns out you're in good company, as there is a significant feature of each of the gospel stories about the first Easter morning that often gets left out of church services and sermons. Namely, when the heavenly messengers first announced the news of Jesus' resurrection, no one said, "Praise God" or "Hallelujah," let alone, "I knew it -- just like he said!" That's right -- not a single one of Jesus' disciples at first believed the report of his resurrection. In one story the women flee the tomb in terror and silence, and in another when the women do muster the courage to tell what they've seen the men dismiss their testimony as "a crazy story." In all four gospel accounts, it appears that the natural response to word of the resurrection is doubt, fear, and bewilderment.
How come?

I'd suggest two reasons. First, I suspect that the evangelists recognized that the resurrection is, quite literally, incredible -- that is, not believable. As Matt Rosano wrote earlier this week, resurrection isn't simply a claim that Jesus' body was resuscitated; it's the claim that God entered human history and created a new reality all together. Which, quite frankly, can be frightening. After all, if the dead don't stay dead, what can you count on? Resurrection, seen this way, breaks all the rules, and while most of us might admit that the old rules aren't perfect -- and sometimes are downright awful -- at least we know them. Further, resurrection inherently threatens the powers-that-be. Think about it: empires, then and now, exist by the fear that they can take away life. When one of their "victims" goes and comes back, well, the whole power-through-fear enterprise is suddenly suspect.

Second, I think we have glamorized -- and thereby misunderstood -- the nature of religious faith. While some religious leaders may thunder that perfect faith conquers all doubt, biblical authors believed that faith and doubt are actually woven closer together than we might imagine. Doubt, questions, even downright skepticism -- these aren't the opposite of faith, but an essential ingredient. Faith, after all, isn't knowledge; rather, faith is "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews: 11:1).

Writing a half-century ago, J.R.R. Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings and a devout Roman Catholic, conceded that resurrection seemed like a fantasy, by its very nature almost too good to be true. For that very reason, Tolkien continued, he believed it must be true, as the story we live in needs a better ending than the one we've crafted. Similarly, W.H. Auden once penned, "Nothing can save us that is possible. We who must die demand a miracle."

So perhaps all the questions common at this time of year about whether the resurrection really happened and how, while understandable, are nevertheless a bit misplaced. Perhaps the question instead might be, "Does this ending make sense to you? Does word of God's love overcoming hate, of life conquering death, give you hope?"

Whatever your answer, know that you are welcome at the Easter feast, where confidence and mystery, faith and doubt, are mingled together. After all, if the original disciples had a hard time taking it in, I don't think there's anything wrong with a few skeptics -- and maybe more than a few! -- gathering to hear and share in the story being told. And, who knows, when the worship leader cries out, "Christ is risen!" you may be surprised by how you respond.

Blessed Easter!

David Lose
Author, Making Sense of Scripture
via The Huffington Post
4//20/2011