Business Time

My husband and I had the opportunity to go on a marriage retreat last weekend in Flat Rock.  We had a great time learning from His word about communication, conflict, and laughter in marriage.  We learned about true intimacy, the kind that happens as we spend life together, as we remember the times we've had the the dreams of what is yet to come.  We had such a great group there and had a GREAT place to stay!  If you and your special one need to get away, this place will set you up!  I'll include a link to their site so you can check it out.  Mountain Lodge

I think every couple needs a refresher course in love every once in a while.  We all get so bogged down with kids, work, money, tax season, laundry, keeping the house clean, and just life in general, not to mention those specific things that each couple deals with uniquely.  Sometimes we have to just get away from it all and relax, laugh, and remember why we started this journey in the first place.  We were lucky enough, along with another couple, to be able to stay an extra night.  We needed it.  They needed it.  We had a blast just walking around Hendersonville (though the guys would disagree, I'm sure), eating some great pizza, and just spending time together.  We also had an awesome planning session for the impending zombie uprising (more to follow another day).  That's the mountaintop.

Then you come home.  You walk in the house and the mad rush you were in to leave two days ago has left reminders all over your house.  The load of laundry you had to do in order to pack now has remainders all over the living room.  The dishes you so desperately wanted to get done BEFORE you left are now waiting for you, with two days of rest waiting on them.  The litter box stinks.  The toys that were rifled through in the selection process for Grandma's house are right where you left them.  Why, oh why, didn't the Retreat Fairy come and clean while you were gone so you can hold on to that blissful feeling just a little longer?  Slowly the lovey-dovey feeling begins to give way to the realities of parenthood as the kids come home and are cranky because the grandparents have spoiled them ALL weekend.  Dinner has to be fixed.  Baths must be done.  Bedtime is a nightmare.  Luckily I escaped a lot of this because I had Bible Study.  Thanks, honey!  And bills must be paid because the tax refund is here, and what else do you do with it when you're poor?

So the week begins and I'm ready.  I am ready to tackle the medical bills that have been looming over our heads for too long.  I have my debit card, checkbook, magnifying glass, a stack of bills, and the phone.  And I'm off.  And as the next four hours go by I become more and more disgusted with thee bils that I DIDN't know about.  More money to them, less to us.  Grrr.  I want to go back to Flat Rock, back to the Mountain Lodge with its indoor pool and fireplaces and suite that magically gets tidied up with fresh towels every day.  Sigh.

So I get back on the old computer that is SOOO slow that will now definitely NOT be replaced this year with tax refund money because Lexington Medical Center needs a new wing and we have been voted the ones to fund it, and someone has posted a video.  This video was played at the retreat, after a warning by our leader (yep, our pastor) about its "sensitive" content. It brings a smile back to my face and reminds me that God gives us everything we need, and in my case that includes a wonderful supportive husband.  I click "Play" and laugh again at the song.  It gives me the perspective I need to dig in and finish what I need to do, because I know that one day soon, maybe even Wednesday, it will once again be "Business Time." :)

Blind Leading the Blind

For my FB friends, you know that I went to the doc today and got a good report.  Well, while I was waiting, I noted a few things.  1 - It was stiflingly hot in there.  2 - There are some sad, sad souls in this world that need not only prayer but companionship and love.  3 - A lot of people are just plain mean.

You see, like almost everyone else I know I love to people watch.  It was amazing to see thee number of people on crutches, in wheelchairs, or just incapacitated in a general sort of way that had no help and no compassion shown to them.  Now granted, the staff at the office are very nice and were always very helpful...to the door of the waiting room.  But when you see someone struggling with a door or a jacket or just walking in general, isn't it the right thing to do to offer help?  I was amazed at the other people waiting and the complete lack of helpfulness or just plain decency!  After helping one lady maneuver the door open I sat down a few seats away from a blind gentleman.  He had a beautiful dog with him and I watched the dog admiringly, knowing all that he must do for his owner to help him.  I was grateful the man had the dog, as he was obviously totally blind and relied on the dog and his cane heavily.  His wife came out shortly, also very obviously blind.  The nurse helped her get her jacket on and sat her in a chair so they could wait on their ride.  They began to discuss the time, wondering aloud what time it was, nervous about their ride coming.  I told them the time, and they were so thankful!  We chatted cordially, and then I went back to magazine flipping.  The stifling heat finally got the best of them and they decided to wait outside.  Now you all know how crazy waiting rooms are...it's like a maze to get to the door sometimes.  The man stood and began walking directly towards a row of chairs blocking him in.  Having given the dog to his wife and not yet employing his cane, I saw disaster.  I looked around at the patients closer to him, sure that someone would step up and BE HUMAN, but everyone just stared, as if watching a car accident about to occur.  I jumped up, not to be a hero but to save these poor people from embarrassment and possible injury.  I quietly guided them to the outside door.  The couple expressed appreciation, and I returned to my seat, noting the avoidance of eye contact the other patients practiced with me.  One lady, ONE, leaned towards me and said, "That was so nice of you."  I told her that I was only doing what i felt necessary and that wouldn't anyone want the same done for them?  "Well, I was just a coward, sitting here burying my face in a book, pretending I didn't notice."  Really?  You admit that?  I guess that's a step, but.....???  Maybe it's because of my own eye problems, hopefully it's because I love Jesus, or maybe I'm just unusual.  Who knows.  But when I see people struggling with what life has handed them, I cannot sit by and watch them fall over a row of chairs.  Not if I can stop it.  I am astounded that anyone could.

And yet, I can remember a time when I was 7 or 8 and a very similar situation crossed my path.  A few of us from my 2nd grade class were allowed to go next door to the Special Ed class and help with tutoring, playing, reading, etc.  What an experience!  I can distinctly remember teaching a boy how to write his name, and how excited he was.  We had so much fun in there and got an early taste of what it was like to help someone.  Thank you Miss Bramen for teaching us to show love to everyone!  One day I had gone to the restroom and was washing my hands when a girl from the Special Ed class emerged from one of the stalls, her pants around her ankles.  "Can't button, can't button!"  Myself and two older girls were all she had for help.  I was horrified, intimidated, and scared (I was REALLY shy then) when the older girls began to laugh hysterically at the girl's situation.  Somehow the girl ignored the mocking and laughter and continued to plead for help.  Finally (after the other girls left, I'm sad to say), I went over and helped the girls with her pants and walked her back to class.  Kids are so cruel.  But even at that young age I think God placed in me a tenderness to the disabled.  Or at least in certain circumstances.  God knows there have been people that have probably needed help that I have undoubtedly turned away from.  But thankfully God has allowed me to have times I could help.  With a smile, with a guiding arm, with a swift buttoning of pants, with helping a blind girl bowl on Saturday mornings, with showing patience when others couldn't or wouldn't, with an Education clinical in a Learning Disabled classroom.  I have been blessed to meet and interact with many different people, and it always makes me more thankful for what I have and less bitter for what I don't.  My problems seem more insignificant when you have what it takes to help someone else.

So I encourage you all, Help someone today.  Make some one's day by helping them across the parking lot, holding the elevator for them, reaching something from a high shelf in the grocery store so they don't have to get out of the annoying scooter, anything.  When you realize that God has given you what you need to help someone, it's a little harder to remember what you were complaining about.  Just keep your eyes open.  Opportunities are out there everyday.

Pretzel Lady and the Collapse of my Chakras

So yesterday I went to a Yoga class.  Now I do have SOME experience with Yoga.  I regularly took a class incorporating Yoga, Thai-Chi, and Pilates.  I've done tons of Yoga videos.  I went to a cookey Massage Therapy school where we did Yoga everyday before class.  I'm no expert, but I wouldn't consider myself ignorant, either.  so I wasn't TOO scared to try this class.  I should have been.

So I go in and stake my claim on a spot in the BACK of the room, on the opposite side from the all-too-revealing wall of mirrors and head to the bathroom before we start.  Because you ladies know, after babies and a hysterectomy, lots of stretching and movement can often bring forth....problems.  When I come back someone has placed their mat BEHIND mine, much to my dismay.  My genius plan of being behind everyone else has failed, and not because of another unfortunate soul like myself.  No, no.  The lithe body on the mat is already practicing her Sun Salutation before class starts.  Brown-noser.  I sit calmly, like some of the other participants, whom I am beginning to notice all could fit in my pant leg and still have room to breathe.  Pretzel Lady behind me is now standing on her head.  I am quickly calculating how long it would take for me to roll up my mat and escape when the teacher enters.  Drat.  Too late.  As Teach moves about the room and readies herself, I find an opening with Pretzel when she release her legs from behind her head, and jokingly (I hope) say, "Hey, are you sure you don't want to get in front of me so I don't feel like such an idiot?"  No, she claims that she is just "observing" the class today.  Even better.  Now not only can I imagine she's watching me, now I KNOW she can and will be noticing my resemblance to a whale attempting these positions.  Great!

Class begins with Teach leading us in a circular rotation of our upper bodies that resembles something I saw on a documentary about African tribes doing a religious dance and me noting that the fans in the room will in fact NOT be turned on today, much to my chagrin.  After our primitive gyrations we move on to Downward Dog.  This one I know!  Teach begins to move about correcting positions one-on-one, and Pretzel behind me is furiously taking notes.  I bypass the instructions to "Let my mind clear," and begin prayer that no embarrassing bodily functions will choose that particular moment to occur,.  God favors me, and I am even more thankful for my pre-class bathroom trip.  We then move on to a series of movements that are designed to help air out our chakras or cleanse the energy or something.  All I know is that we were supposed to be able to "swing" our legs up over our heads, lifting our hips off the ground, then lower them and sit up and bend over and grab our toes.  Yeah, right.  Maybe when I was 13.  And I couldn't help notice I was one of two in the class unable to do this circus act.  Luckily Teach didn't try to come correct me.

Back to Downward Dog.  Now lets lift our leg, bring it up to our chest and sink into our lunge to release the hips.  Okay, hold on, I'm still trying to pull my leg up there, all right, now I'm there.  But now we've moved on to something else.  Oh well.  Back to Downward Dog.  Warrior poses.  I can do that.  Finally, something that doesn't make me look retarded.  Well, at least until she made us bend to the side and try to reach our other hand THROUGH our legs and grab our hand and....oh, forget it.  Downward Dog.  I think I can see a smile pulling on the lips of Pretzel as she scribbles.  I mop the sweat from my forehead, chest, arms, and the mat where it has begun to puddle.

This continues for another 40 minutes, with me feeling more and more disconnected from my body as she tells us how we should be more in touch with our energy and the space of our bodies.  Obviously I'm doing something wrong.  Or maybe i just don't have chakras.  Now before anyone writes and tells me about them, I know.  We had to study them in Massage Therapy school.  When we had to dangle crystals over them and try to manipulate the directional flow of Universal Energy in and out of them I stood up and expressed my unbelief and was thoroughly chastised for it.  So I know, I just don't care or buy into it.  So when it came time to sit with our legs out in front, leaning back on our hands, which were behind our hips, and lean our heads back in an attempt to have it touch the floor to stimulate both our Throat and Crown chakras, I simply stared at the motionless ceiling fans and listened longingly to the beat of the music from the RPM class next door.  Downward Dog.  And when we struck "Fire Logs" pose and did "Fire Breathing" to stimulate our Solar Plexus energy, I practiced labor breathing, to go along with my pregnant-looking fat belly.

Last move of the day.  Hip opener.  I'm sensing a theme here.  I begin to think I'm REALLY not getting it because I feel no stretch when everyone else does.  That is, until the position changes to an attempt to twist so far around that we can actually grab our toes.  I think I pulled a muscle.  Finally we're allowed to lay motionless like a dead fish and "watch all of our negative thoughts pass by.  Acknowledge them, and bid them farewell."  I'll get right on that.  We are finally dismissed with a prayer in some language i don't understand and a final bow towards the front of the room.  I made it through!

So there's my experience with Yoga.  At least I can say I tried.  And since the teacher never came to correct me, I can either conclude that I was okay or that it was obviously a lost cause in her mind.  i choose to believe that I was good.  But take me back to RPM where I can scream and sing and sweat with everyone else.  Or even Pilates where I have a good spot in the back and no one can keep up with the teacher anyway so we all moan and complain.  And there aren't any prayers in Hindu or talk of chakras and Universal energy sources and claiming our own space in the universe while in the shape of a Soft Pigeon.  Yep, don't really see myself revisiting my chakras there anytime soon.  So long, fruitcakes.  DOWNWARD DOG!!!

Taking back the Kelly-ness

So we have this friend, Mitchell, who is.....well, he's fun.  About 5 years younger than us, and he is still enjoying being young and carefree.  Single, just got a new Mustang, plays video games (a lot) and loves superheroes.  Great guy, and he keeps my husband feeling young :).  Anyway, I love him like a brother, and he treats me like a sister.  He has coined the term "Kelly-ness" to describe the awesomeness that is me.  Kind of a running joke between us.  So I started thinking about what exactly that is, or may be.  What does it look like, and just how awesome is it?

Well, I wasn't too happy with what I discovered.  I've lost my Kelly-ness, and, sadly, it was long before Mitchell ever knew me.  You see, I'm coming to terms with some hard truths.  I am not happy with who I have become, why I have let myself become this way, and the things I have tried to do to make myself feel better about it.  This is probably going to be a little different than previous posts in that I usually write from a place of humor.  Don't pity me, laugh with me!  That's my motto.  But today I need to dig a little deeper.

Around the end of my junior year I had some really crappy stuff happen.  I really don't want to broadcast details all over cyberspace (or, in my case, probably cybervillage), but just know that it was not a happy time.  My view of myself became very skewed, and without what I thought I needed from home (hindsight's 20/20), I didn't handle it well.  I swallowed a lot of my problems, and secretly rebelled against everything I knew to be true and good.  And when a girl doesn't respect herself, no one else does either.  I began to flounder, knowing I needed to get back to God, but not really knowing how, or what it even looked like.  It seemed that even the ways I sought God failed me.  My youth group, guys I dated who "claimed" to be really great Christians, everything.  I fell deeper and deeper.  in college, I thought I had it figured out, and branched out to try to find myself again in a new light.  Tragedy again.  I found myself in an eerily similar situation as I had a few years earlier, and it caused me to shut down completely.  I left school, had to move home for medical complications of said situation, and things went from bad to worse.  I lapsed back into depression, which manifested in terrible panic attacks at very inopportune times, like driving down the highway.  I was diagnosed, at 20 years old and a healthy weight, of high blood pressure.  And I started putting on weight.  A lot of weight.  My Kelly-ness was gone.

I told God I didn't ever want to date again.  I really, really, didn't want a husband.  Please, God, just keep them away from me.  I was too ashamed, too broken, too baggage-laden to even think about the transparency it would take to have a meaningful relationship.  He had other plans,  and sent me Derrell, my husband.  And while I felt God's forgiveness and acceptance at that time, I was sooooo just scratching the surface.  I had only let that realization, that grace, that love, go so deep into my life.

And then I lost a good deal of my vision and my ability to drive.  Wow.  That sentence doesn't even begin to describe how my life has changed because of Stargardt's Disease.  That is a whole other "laughter through tears" post for a later day.  Just know I have been holding onto a lot of anger because of it.  More weight, more health problems, less Kelly-ness.  Blah, blah, blah, and yes, I would like some cheese now.

So my great realization came, my Biggest Loser moment, if you will, not too long ago.  God has used an awesome book, Made to Crave, and a group of women at my church to bring me to it.  No one statement, no one golden moment, but a slow realization that I am so covered in hurt and anger and, well, in fat, that I cannot even begin to recognize, much less let shine, who God created me to be.  While I have spent thousands of dollars on therapy and weight-loss projects and self-help and thousands of hours in prayer and retreat and altar calls trying to fix what is broken, I have missed the big picture.  I have been waiting on God to "fix" me, but I haven't opened myself up, physically or emotionally, to let Him do it.  The other night I was curling up into my same-old, comfortable sleep position, and realized it felt different.  Different because and inch or two of fat was missing.  It wasn't as comforting, somehow, without the squishy fat there.  It hit me.  How much more of what I have done to myself physically is there because I feel I need it to cover and comfort me?  If it is somehow sickly comforting to me physically, how much more so does it allow for an emotional barrier, and spiritual wall?  The thought of actually losing all this weight, of not sitting with my arms crossed over my pregnant-appearing belly, of not having that physical barrier between me and other people, between me and my husband, actually frightened me tremendously.  Vulnerability is a very scary thing.  And what happens when I don't have that weight to cause that distance between me and God?  when I actually cleanse the temple and allow Him in, fully?  Not to say AT ALL that one cannot be overweight and close to God.  Not at all!  But for me personally, my weight, or abundance thereof, is a rebellion against God.  I believe I haven't WANTED Him that close, so I have sabotaged my temple to keep Him at a safe distance.  The thought of being completely open for His presence, of allowing Him to get rid of all my junk, even my weight, scares the poo out of me.  But I refuse to let that be me anymore.  I've already stepped out of the boat, and I have to walk on water now, to my Jesus.  I can't get back in.

And it's not just the weight that's changing.  I allowed my dear friend Lynde to see my trash.  Literally.  To come inside my house and help me begin the process of cleaning out my house.  How embarrassing, how freeing.  And I tell you, it feels good.  It has helped my marriage, my mood, my stress level has decreased, it's great.

I have a taste of the Kelly-ness.  I think I know what I'm missing.  It's the feeling I have after I burn 919 calories in 45 minutes of RPM at the gym, and I know that I could have never done it on my own, but with God's help and the ribbing of great instructors I WAS able to accomplish it, and it feels GREAT!  It's the feeling of going to bed knowing that I did not put things into my body today that negate God's purpose for my life.  I cannot serve Him fully if I succomb to my own temptations with food.  It's the feeling that, room by room, my house is getting in order, and the daily upkeep of it leaves my feeling accomplished and light-hearted.  This is just the beginning.  True Kelly-ness is limitless.  I don't know what it will fully look like, or when it will come (probably not in this life), but I'm high on the idea of it.  Being the Kelly God intended me to be.  Not the Kelly that took the reins herself and messed it up.  Not the Kelly that the world has beaten down with illness and experience.  Not the Kelly who hides from God's will under layers of guilt and fat.  Nope.  Look out world, I'm getting my Kelly-ness back.  And it looks beautiful.