Shake It Off

I pulled more clothes that had grown too big off the hangers in my closet. As I put clothing after clothing in the bag I had a sense of fear and panic. What if I need these clothes again. What if I gain all the weight back?

With each new item I took out of my closet I made an agreement to myself, I will not hold on to what no longer fits.

Right now a lot of things don't fit. Love that turns on you, nightmares that steal your dreams, and the heavy weight of unworthiness. A few nights ago I had encountered a deep piercing hurt. It came unexpectedly and with ruthless force.

I crumbled to the bathroom floor in tears and poured myself into my comforting bed. When I awoke the next morning I decided to bathe myself in self-love. I wrote a poem to help shake off those self-loathing nests.

I am perfectly formed.   

My body is a reminder of who I am.

          No sharp edges here. 

         Just smooth curves that hint at gentleness, tenderness and a comfort giving nature.

My stride is a reminder of what I'm made of and where I'm going.

I'm made of incredible strength, determination, and the ability to move forward despite the weights that may cling to my feet.

I am a child of The King.

A princess.  

A vision of beauty.

An intricate, well thought out, planned creation.

His beloved.

His light in the world.

His servant- useful to him.

His special possession.

When someone hurts us we have the tendency to take it out on ourselves and say if only I was good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, nice enough... That night I realized that I was enough. I was exactly what he created me to be. The tendency to cling to clothes, dreams-turned-into-nightmares, or thoughts that no longer fits sneaks up on you.  Make a choice to bathe yourself in true self-love.  Decide that when hurt and disappointment find you that you will take the opportunity to shake it off.  

The Running Feeling

Photo credit: MPH photography.  Amazing Artist!

How did it feel? Is the first question my mother asks as I hobble back to the car after my first 5k.
It felt intimidating waiting to start the run with a group of people who belong on the cover of a running magazine.  It felt frightful.  What if I slip?  What if I can only continue for a short time and have to walk the whole way back?  What if my knee doesn't hold up and I just can't run through the pain?

Pushing past those thoughts...

It feels like your body is whispering words of thanks through every stride.  It feels like your feet are clusters of feathers and you finally realize that you have always had the ability to fly.

It feels like every can't, won't, shouldn't, is being crushed with every step on the pavement.  You feel like a champion crushing all the attempts to defeat your spirit and crush your heart.  You feel free.  Free of any form of mental disability and any attempts at lies that try to nest in your mind.

Even though I stopped running for several years, running always been there.  Like my running shoes, it waited quietly on the shelf for my return.   My return wasn't glorious or applause worthy.  I didn't run like I belonged on the cover of a magazine.  I just got up and ran.

As my mom followed me in the mini van full of my children, I realized that this running feeling reached over and touched the hearts of those I love.  My mother was full of pride.  She saw her daughter who a year ago was emotionally beaten down and wore the clothes of defeat hold her head up and face the long road with a smile on her face.  With every wave at my children at every kilometer I knew that this running feeling was spilling over to them.  I was showing them that life will knock you down but you will always have the ability to get up and run.

Taken by my 6 year old after the run.

Bitterness Blooms

A fruit that requires patience and gentleness to really enjoy.

That day at court when the judge wouldn't hear the concerns I had for my children or the risks that I was trying to avoid - something took root.

That day in court when after speaking to the judge my soon to be ex-husband made immature faces at friends who came to support me.  That thing began to sprout.

Later on love escaped me - again.  I felt the vine growing and tightening around my feet and binding up my hands.

When I looked at my dreams, settled on my plans and was cautioned by my reality the branches now took a hold of my heart and anger bloomed.

In the minutes before my head found the pillow and my eyes released pools of loneliness, disappointment and rejection, I felt that bitter fruit take my breath away.

There it was - a bitterness I could taste in my mind, heart and breath.  After times in court with my husband when victory seemed to elude me I fell hard.  I fell back.  When I got up I waved that finger at God asking him about his whereabouts and his intentions.  I question his love and his commitment to me and my family.  I treat him like a wayward husband who is prone to abandonment and unfaithfulness.  Eventually I find myself turning away from him and ignoring his gentle calls to me.  How could he let me go through this?  How could he put my family through so much only to call us to this desolate place?  How could he?

Then something happens in the place that I crawl to beside him.  This place that he carefully carved with his arms where my body feels the weight of his protection and the comfort of his love.  He speaks to me and shows me his mercies.  He begins to cut away that fruit, cut down the branches and uproot that bitter plant that grew so deep.

I begin to see that he is carrying me and my kicking and screaming have only made him hold on tighter.  I begin to see that he won't let us go no matter how much others may abandon or try to hurt us.
I begin to see that he is waiting for my complete surrender and obedience.
I begin to see that out of my bitter circumstances something new can take root and bloom.

Then I begin - again.

Running Out

When I run I don't want to stop.  My weight, my separation, my stresses as a mother and teacher don't seem to factor.  My feet lift and land and I am transported into a different space and time.


I stated running when I was in grade 6.  I had never run competitively before that.  I remember that first run around the grounds of the my elementary school.  Most of the students couldn't make it all the way but I just flew.  I felt a surge of energy hit my body and felt delighted with my new found love.  When I got into junior high I had an inspirational gym teacher, Mrs. Hudson.  I will never forget her.  I used to see her running in the rain, snow and sun.  Whatever the weather she was out there running.  She encouraged me to keep active and she made me promise that I would never stop running.

Time passed, I got married, had children and I forgot Mrs. Hudson's words.  As a teen it was hard for me to understand why this women so close to retiring would spend the early morning hours of the day running up (a very hilly) Don Mills road.  Where did this desire come from and how did she maintain it? I don't know much of Mrs. Hudson's story but I can assume that she didn't run to look like a model, she didn't run because it was popular, and she didn't run to join a club.

On February 23rd, 2012 I lifted my feet and got ready to fly for the first time in years.  I remember being afraid to take those first few leaps because I thought I had forgotten how to run.  I found the image below and I use it as inspiration.  I remind myself that I am a runner.  That will never change.

(image source:glidinginthebeautifulsky)

Now as I lace up my battered running shoes I understand the compulsion, the desire and the need so much more.  I run because it brings my mind, body and spirit to a place where I can push the cant's, wont's, shouldn't, and couldn't beneath me.  When I run my tumultuous separation, my worries for my kids, my unending struggles run out before my desire to stop do.

What are you passion do you want to reclaim?

Mapping it Out

My life has taken some turns but God has it all mapped out.

Lately, I have felt like a ping pong ball being blown about out at sea.  One minute I'm happy with my renewed love of running and the sense of freedom it brings.  The next I'm saddened by the loss of dreams and the reality of separation.  These feelings stir an uneasiness in me because the one thing I crave is stability.

Going through a separation I experienced a myriad of emotions.  At first I felt this incredible weight lifted from my shoulders.  I felt renewed strength.  I breathed in air that was filled with hope for a better future for my children and myself.  People are always surprised when I say this because it seems like I didn't really care about my marriage.  The reality is the farthest thing from that statement.  What most people don't realize is that I grieved the loss of my marriage as I watched my husband slowly turn into a stranger over the past 4 years.  I grieved the loss of my marriage when I realized that improperly treated mental illness robs not only the sufferer but the rest of their family of any sense of security or peace.  I grieved the loss of my marriage when I realized that I had to make a choice that put safety and security on one end and marriage on the other.


Though I don't regret the decision to separate I am disturbed by the havoc it can spur in my life.  Dealing with custody and access issues are complicated especially when mental health issues are involved.  I find that I constantly have to find the balance between the health and safety of my children and consistent involvement with their father.  There is so much uncertainty in what you can expect from a situation that your mind is tempted to always to go beyond where you are comfortable.

Through this process I am hoping that God will show me which turns to take and which ones to avoid.  Right now that is all I can hope for.

Carving Out Gratitude

I am finding it difficult to write lately. Carving out pre-dawn moments to find my slice of peace is proving to be harder than I thought. So this morning I have chosen to spend this slice of peace on expressing gratitude.


I am thankful

For a grandmother's love for her grandchildren. My mother takes care of my children while I go to work and still holds down a full-time job. I marvel at her ability to take care of others, find joy in it and still carve out time for herself.

For a faraway friend's reminder to stay relational even if it is the last thing I desire. I am thankful for the time she took to put encouragement, conviction and love to words all within the same stroke.

For a season that inspires so much hope that I can't help but roll around in it!

Christmas is coming! Christmas is coming! That is what makes me most grateful.

Come Unity

http://www.dioceseofroseau.org/?page_id=60

Salty waves crashing against stone walls holding up the hallelujahs

Water poured over my head linking me for life to a world before me

Warm sweet milk served by nuns after mass

Communion taken before commitment

Tradition, community, mystery mixed with sacrifice, repentance, and forgiveness

There is little I know about my great-grandmother Lise-Rose.  She dotted on my mother and committed her life to service in our little village church.  Even though I never met her I have felt a strong connection to her.  Not only because she was so gracious and loving towards my own mother but because I identify with her need and love of serving.  Serving is a way for me to connect my faith to my community.  It is has always been about relationship.  It is where my faith, family and community meet and grow.   The stone walls I walk around today still hold up the hallelujahs and the waves are also found close by.  Yet, in the midst of this there is hurt that is leaking out through the seams of misunderstanding and distrust.

Writing about hurts in your church is like writing about hurt from your mother.  You don't want to expose unpleasantness.  You want to protect what has shown you love and protection.  Since joining our church almost 3 years ago our family has found a place to ride out the storms and a place to grow our faith.  Even more I have found a place to serve with the gifts God has given me.  Recently I have seen some things that have challenged my faith in God's plan.  I question whether or not what I feel and see is representative of his guidance or the failings of people.  I struggle between the need to please others by turning a blind eye or speaking up when something isn't quite right.  Each has a consequence that doesn't sit well with me.  I watch as others quietly disapprove and disappear.  It seems to me that the one place the truth should be embraced is sometimes the hardest place to speak it.

I am forced to remember that though I long to please others I am not here to do this.  God has called me to live openly so that I can inspire others to serve him.

How do you grow your faith when the walls come tumbling?