Walk It Out

If you have never, ever been on a diet you may not relate to this post. So go kneel in the corner and pray for yourself. Or better yet, eat a sandwich. I am just kidding. Weight loss may not be your struggle, but there may be some other area that you may be encouraged to tackle.

Ok, so weight loss is a lifelong issue for me. There have been times throughout my life that I've been lighter and times when I've been heavier. My weight fluctuates like the lines at Wal Mart. Up for a season, like Christmas, then down again till the next Fall. Mostly up. I've steadily weighed more ever since I turned 30. I am hoping to turn this around as I am closer to 40. I am actually hoping to be the weight I was when we were married when May 6, 2011 rolls around. That is when I'll be that magic age. I am not afraid to reach this age at all. I just want to be healthier and try to be around a long time to see my grandkids and hopefully my great grandkids. If God decides to take me sooner, I am ready, but I want to be selfish and stick around. And not speed up my life by continuing on this journey overweight.

People say they hold onto weight for emotional reasons or because of one excuse or another. I must admit, I am lazy. I would rather sit in my comfortable chair, watching TV (or taking a nap) than walking or jogging in place listening to the Wii Fit lady yacking about checking to see if my remote is secure or tell me I'm walking at an uneven pace. I wish she would just shut up and let me walk or jog. I definitely would like to lounge around doing nothing instead of sweating. I think sweating away the pounds is overrated. I hate to sweat.

It really is taking some work to drop these pounds, but I feel so good as I move more. I'm feeling better physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I give every day to God and He gives me strength to endure it. He promises to never leave me and I know He is walking right beside me. All day. Every day. My journey is not complete. I must continue to run the race. And continue to lose one pound at a time. After all, my weight is the giant I've been waiting to defeat for so many years. And I think I hear him falling down.

"When the path you're walking gets rough, God provides the right shoes." ---Corrie ten Boom

Note to Self: Watch Your Speed

I've been told I'm a bad driver. By my wife, mostly. But by other people, including co-workers. I tend to drive with a heavy foot, as some might say, but I am a safe driver. Again, my wife might not agree. When we asked Annabelle the other night about our driving style, she said her Mom is a slow, granny-like, careful driver. She then demonstrated my driving in animated NASCAR-style. You know, kids hardly lie when it comes to imitating their parents. Especially if they have done something wrong. Like speeding.

Now I'm not admitting I'm a bad driver, but I do tend to speed above the posted limit. I know this is wrong because I'm breaking the law, but I've had my share of speeding tickets. Ten, in fact. No, I am not proud, mostly because it's wrong and it hurt my wallet each time. As for the white speeding van in Lafayette, they have yet to catch me. Even the traffic lights with cameras have yet to witness me going faster than the posted speed limit. To add to all of this, I get so angry if someone drives past me, even if I'm speeding, too. I think, "What a reckless driver..." Hypocritical.

I definitely have slowed down since Annabelle is born, but when I'm alone I tend to go faster. This is not a good thing. I heard about an innocent driver the other day who had another driver behind him who wanted to pass on the left on a two-lane road. After the driver failed to pass on the left, she tried to get behind the driver again and hit his car instead. It flipped several times and hit a tree, killing the passenger of the vehicle. The driver who caused the accident survived and was not injured. I don't think the driver who caused the accident deserved to die or get seriously injured, but I do believe that if she would have slowed down it could have been prevented. There is always a preventative measure to an accident. Whether it is tripping and falling or causing a fatal accident. For some reason, this story shook me. It made me think, "What if it was me?" or worse, "What if it was my family and me and it was my fault?"

I try to remind myself that whatever my destination it will be there if I go the speed limit posted or if I go 5-10 miles over it. I will just get there a few minutes later. Taking the time to slow down could save a life. And while I'm at it,  texting and driving is another post entirely. But please don't take your eyes off the road...and let's slow down!

Scars

I have always found scars to be very interesting. When I first meet someone and they have a visible scar, I am immediately drawn to it. I guess it's natural, but I consider it part of a person's character. Like an antique piece of furniture with water damaged wood that adds that special something to the wood grain or the coffee ring on the surface of an old table. I think scars are unique because they each have their own story.

Some of my scars are not fascinating at all. I have one on my knee that I earned when someone pushed me down the robot slide in the late 70's in Beaver Park near the Lafayette airport. Another one was self-inflicted by accident with a boning knife that my Dad left out while cooking chicken. Those are not very exciting, but their stories are unique.

Then there are other scars that are not easily seen. The scars we don't like to show others. Ever. Or even think about. Some are hidden within people's minds. But they are all a part of our story. Scars from mental or verbal abuse. The scars that are left when someone you love is taken to heaven. Sexual Abuse. Suicide. Abortion. Alcoholism. All of these scars don't go away. These are scars that we can easily keep hidden. Some are deeper than others. If no one sees them then they don't really exist. Don't live in denial.

I recently heard an awesome speaker at our church that said if we expose our own scars God could use them to help someone else. By exposing my own scars, doors have opened for me to be able to help others. Trust me, it is not easy to expose your scars. The pain is rough. But it gets easier when you know you are helping someone. It is how we use our scars that matters most not how well hidden we keep them. When scars are uncovered real healing begins.

This is no bull.

I think that the media inflates a lot of stories just for shock value and ratings. That is why I hate watching the news on TV. I rarely read the newspaper (except for the daily obits), but I sometimes will monitor current events through cnn.com or other reliable online news sources. There is one topic that I cannot pass up to give my thoughts. Bullying.

It seems that this topic has become popular recently, but it has been around a long time. Do you remember the Little Rascals' Butch and Woim? They were always after poor Alfalfa. That is probably why his hair would stick up in the middle. Poor Alfalfa was always stressed out. Although that was just TV fun, that is reality to some kids, and even some adults. And I cannot find any humor in it.

I was the victim of bullying in my school age years. Those kids are long gone, but the scars are still with me today. There was name calling, physical abuse, and just plain mean things done toward me that I could not stop. I would tell a teacher and the person would get punished, but only temporarily. It would never cease. I had friends in school, but when it came to bullying I stood alone. I was not the only one that would get bullied, but it seemed like no one would help. Did I ever speak up loud enough? Probably not. I would ocassionally tell someone about it, but no one took me serious. Thank God I made it through. But others resort to more serious means of stopping it including suicide and rage that spins out of control.

I was lucky to have an older sibling that I could hang out with at school, but that was not always the case. I had to deal with it mostly on my own. And it wasn't easy. I hated school because of it. I was an honor roll student making straight A's until high school, where I made mostly A's and B's. I would get bullied into letting others cheat and to do poorly on a test just to make the grading curve lower. I never gave in when it came to academics, but I was pressured. Then there were times others would just pick on me because I was overweight. Shy. Quiet. Didn't wear the "in" shoes. Always a reason to bully. But not one reason good enough. Let me make it clear that not all of my years were miserable, but bullying was a big part of my life.

I think it so important that if you know someone or think you know someone that is being bullied, be their voice. They may not feel anyone will listen. Be their friend. Be their mentor. Be there. They need to know that someone cares and they are not alone. My daughter was the victim of bullying, but she learned to be more assertive and after talking with proper authorities at school, it ceased. She knew she could come to us no matter what happened at school or anywhere. Daily communication is very important. Be vocal. Be visible. Let the schools out there know that this will not be tolerated. Each bully has a story behind him or her that makes them this way. There is always a reason they are bullies. There's always a void they need to fill or an issue at home. But it doesn't make it right.

Let's make it right and spread awareness about this epidemic among our young people. They need to have a voice and not be scared. This has to end.

Who's Your Daddy?

I've been consumed lately with my parenting skills. Are they good enough? What impression am I leaving on my child when my discipline is complete? Am I a lazy parent and too laid back? Sometimes it's "What am I doing?" I ask myself all of these questions whenever I have a discussion or have to discipline Annabelle. Often times we correct our kids out of anger. Our thoughts often follow our words. Totally backwards. I find that I find my words come out to correct her and not her actions. I need to focus on the issue, not how angry I am at what she has done. Danielle and I agree that it's important to discuss how we should discipline her and not let her manipulate either of us to take sides. We are in this together. That is most important above anything we could ever say or do. So in the end, I can never blame our parenting decisions on Danielle. We have to be each other's back-up, like Starsky and Hutch. Bonnie and Clyde. Cagney and Lacey. Thelma and Louise. Ok, maybe not Thelma and Louise. But you get the picture.

Annabelle is a really good kid. She is very mature and responsible. She cleans, cooks, takes care of her dogs, folds laundry, irons (sometimes her dollar bills), and even takes out the trash. She is adapting well to homeschooling for the first time this year. She is an awesome singer and dancer and she can entertain us for hours. On the other hand, Annabelle has a very strong opinion. She takes the strong-willed child approach to the limit. She is not afraid to share her opinion either. When she sees that I am getting angry or upset she uses that to her advantage and goes in for the kill. It usually ends up in argument and she walks away and says "Whatever." I am not fooled because she walks aways to reload her ammunition. And it doesn't end there! Thank God this does not happen often, but it is difficult to handle once words start flying. I like to have the last word and that isn't always wise. I am learning how to be the father of a 9 year old girl and it isn't easy. It's a two edged sword---pre-teen and a girl. Double whammy!

I am trying very hard to imagine how it feels to be her, but I just can't do it. I'm a guy. Guys don't understand girls. I just try to let her know I love her and that's all I can do. I don't know what is going on in her young mind. Her brain must be in overload with so much information, hormones, and stuff going on. There are days that seem to be filled with love, joy, and peace and everything else Disney, then there are days that I say one wrong word or phrase and there are tears for hours and we sink like the Titanic. And I'm not sure what it is I've said or how I said it that made her cry. "What a good parent...", I think.

At the end of the day, I know that I love my child with everything I have in me, I want only the best for her, I will protect her whatever the cost, and have taught her to rely on God for all things and everything will work out. After all, He is who I look to for all my parenting advice. Thank God for His parenting skills!