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.