This is My Fight Song...

Fight or Flight: This is a physiological reaction that occurs in response to a perceived harmful event, attack, or threat to survival. It is a response to protect us from perceived danger. Something happens and our brain signals us to either run or get ready to fight. This response is brought on by fear or pain or stress. It is a basic survival instinct.

Unless you're stuck in fight or flight mode for an extended period of time. Like I was. I have been stuck in fight or flight mode for years. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder does that to you. A whole bunch of yuck right in a row does that to you. You get stuck in fight or flight. I spent so much time just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the next bad thing to happen. The first few events that happened, my daddy would hold me tight and kiss my forehead and say "Well, honey...it can't get any worse..." After the third pretty big event I begged him to never say it again because apparently, it could get worse. 

Did you know there's research that shows that trauma and PTSD and getting stuck in fight or flight mode can actually rewire the neurons in your brain? I didn't know that either until I was diagnosed with seizures. I didn't think I had a history of seizures. They told me they were stress induced. The stress of the last how many ever years had taken its toll on me and my brain was rewired and misfiring, causing seizures. I lost so many days...months...years of my life! Moments I won't get back again. Moments my children won't get back again. Moments my family and friends won't get back again. 

So many people fought for me when I wasn't able to fight. I was on so many medications, so many drugs to stop the seizures. To keep my brain and body safe and asleep from the trauma that was tearing it to pieces and leaving me a shell of who I used to be. Everyone always complements me and tells me how strong I was in that time. In all honesty, they have no idea. And really I have no idea. They have no idea that I am missing chunks of time. No idea that many times my babies would find me in a room or in a hallway and would have to call for help. No idea that I just wanted to die and be done with the pain and confusion and not remembering. No idea that I was the furthest from strong that I could be. Not strong...just well-loved by a villiage of people who made me look ok. 

We finally were led to doctors and neurologists who were smart and knew things. They balanced my medications and forced me to go to the therapy I had been avoiding and things were ok. My seizures slowed and life went on, with an only occasional blip on my radar that anything was wrong. 

My whole perspective and my whole life has changed in the last few years. I'm no longer stuck in fight or flight, no longer using every ounce of strength I have to survive the day and to slay demons. Don't get me wrong, I still have PSTD moments that make me freeze and panic and stiffen every muscle in my body, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I'm not living in that space constantly. I have found happiness and love and joy again. I am living when for so many years I was barely surviving. I was only walking through my day hoping I remembered to keep breathing and offer up fake smiles to people so everyone would think I was just fine. 

But now I am living! I am living every moment of every day as much as I can. Therapy has done wonders to free me from a lot that I was carrying. My smart neuros and other doctors have figured out a lot for me. Weight Watchers and my Facebook weight loss support group has help me lose 55 pounds. My Couch to 5K app has helped me begin running and actually not hate running. And the coordinator of all of this? My Heavenly Father who has orchestrated all of this plan, all of my fight or flight moments, into a life of peace and joy and love. How much lost time I have to make up for!

Back in March, I heard a voice and felt a tug at my heart that I needed to wean myself off of my Lyrica. I was on this drug for nerve pain and also a supplemental seizure med. My heart sank and I was terrified but in faith, I slowly dropped my dose of Lyrica until I wasn't on anymore. In June I had an appointment with my neurologist at Swedish. He was amazed at how well I was doing and we talked about my stress levels and that perhaps with my stress levels kept low, I could wean off of my Lamictal. The last layer of seizure drugs I was on. My heart flip-flopped as he wrote out my plan to be done, free of all seizure meds. I was filled with fear and apprehension. What if I had a seizure? What if it didn't work? What if I ended up right back where I was when we started?

But a voice in my head whispered: "But what if you don't? What if you put your faith and trust in Me and continue on this path to healing and all will be just fine?"

So with prayer and a little dose of panic I followed the plan. I took my last Lamictal this morning. Tears of joy! Tears of happiness! Tears of thankfulness! Tears of praise to my Heavenly Father for walking beside me on this journey, and carrying me through all the trauma and pain and sadness over the years. 

My fight song...the song in my heart through the years has been my fight song. So many times I wanted to run away. I wanted to be done. I wanted to tap out and just finally be at peace. Something inside of me kept making me fight. Kept telling me to not give up. That the end would be worth it if I could just keep going. I've got a lot of fight left in me, but I don't need to fight. I don't need to fight! I need to let go and let God step in for me. He has this wonderful, amazing plan for me. Knowing that my story doesn't end the way Satan wanted it to end fills my heart with purpose and joy. I know that God has a plan for me! He walked with me through hell and back, carrying me in those moments that I don't remember. Carrying my daughters in the moments they were so scared and afraid. Carrying us through those moments we thought we were alone.

Praises to Father God are my fight song. Knowing that I don't have to fight is my fight song. Understanding the peace which surpasses all understanding is my fight song. The faces of my children are my fight song. Looking in the mirror and loving who I see is my fight song.

No more fight or flight. No more rewired neurons. No more seizure drugs. No more being a victim. Finding the message in my mess has brought me more peace and healing than any earthly drug could ever bring. 

My fight song...I've still got a lot of fight left in me, but I don't need that fight! I just need His peace...His peace. 

Take a Number...

From the day we are conceived, our existence is reduced to a number. Eager moms and dads take guesses on how much the baby will weigh or how long they will be or what their birthdate will be. Then we are born and the proud parents announce: 9 pounds, 7 ounces and 20.5 inches long! Oftentimes before we even share what the name is, we are giving the baby's stats. 

Shortly after birth, parents complete paperwork and the baby is assigned his or her social security number that will follow them throughout their entire life. 

When we enroll at school, we are given a student number. In our district, and probably most districts, our children are assigned three numbers: a district ID, a state ID, and a federal ID. These student numbers roll into middle and high school also. We are then given a student number when we enroll in college. Mine was also part of my library system and my bus pass. 

Other numbers we are assigned: grade point averages, class rankings, test scores, bank account numbers, drivers license numbers, credit card numbers, license plate numbers, computer passwords, addresses and phone numbers...how we keep all these things straight I'll never know. I had a mini panic attack when I heard that our credit union changes our debit card number when they issue our new cards! I have just a few more months before I'll have to memorize all that information again. 

There's one number that takes the forefront of my mind always, and I suspect it's in the minds of a lot of other people. It's the very first number I talked about: our weight. When you are on a weight loss journey, your entire identity is wrapped up in that number sometimes. I used to own a scale. It got to the point in my journey that I was weighing several times a day. The day I caught myself weighing before a meal and determining if I was going to eat or not based on the number is the day I threw my scale in the garbage can. I no longer own a scale. I weigh in one day a week at my Weight Watchers meeting and that is all. 

It's taken my losing and gaining and re-losing weight my whole life to finally start to realize that I am more than a number on a scale. That's a hard lesson because that number does try hard to define us, doesn't it?  When I started with the school district my number was 361. That was a tough number to swallow but it was my number. The day I married Brian I was 219. The lowest of my adult life, or quite possibly ever. I'm told I was only 7 pounds, 14 ounces at birth but I don't remember that...I remember vividly though as I stood on the scale as a sophomore in high school and the scale read 241. I hate that weight is so critical to me that I remember these. 

Weight Watchers has been using a new program called Beyond the Scale. The idea behind it is to not give the number so much power. We talk a lot of feelings and emotions and exercise and things other than the scale. Getting away from the mindset that whatever that number says on that scale is going to determine how you feel about yourself or how you feel about your week. I have learned for myself that there are so many other more important pieces to this journey than just watching the scale go down. So many other numbers, in fact. 

54: I have lost 54 pounds since September. I am proud of that number and I try hard to remember that number when the scale doesn't reflect the work that I've put in in any given week. 

128: That's how much lighter I am today from my highest weight ever and I've maintained a big chunk of that loss over the years, fighting to not get above 300 ever again. 

87: The number of runs I have logged on my Couch to 5K/10K apps. 

5: MPH - I've increased my sprint runs to this since September, up from 2.5. 

27.5 - That is my total inches lost from my body in the last 24 weeks. If you are on a weight loss journey you have to start doing measurements because even if the weight stops falling off for a while, I've still kept losing inches. 6 3/4 inches alone have been dropped from my waist. 

These numbers are numbers that I am so very proud of. They are numbers that keep me going when it gets rough. They make me think twice about my food and exercise choices. They are the things that keep driving me forward in my goals and in my plan to be better. 

But, these numbers aren't even the important numbers. They are just numbers and while they may tell part of my story and they may be a little bit about who I am, they still don't define me as a person. They are all just measurements of accomplishments. They are all just stepping stones to a final goal in a journey. 

Want to know some numbers that mean something to me? Numbers that define me? Numbers that make me who I am?

John 3:16 - defines me as a child of God. That I have someone who loves me so deeply He sacrificed His one and only Son for my sins. 

Jeremiah 29:11 - defines me as someone who is important to God. That He has plans for me. Good plans! And wants what is best for me. 

Matthew 28:20 - defines me as never alone. God will be with me to very end of time. 

Psalm 23 - defines me as being a part of God's family, someone He takes care of and walks through life with. 

Matthew 6:26 - defines me as important again. God takes care of each little bird and they do not want for food or shelter and how much more important we are to God!

Isaiah 41:10 - defines me as strong in the Lord. I should not be afraid for God gives me strength and help. 

Philippians 4:13 - defines me as powerful with the help of God for there is nothing I can't do without Him by side. 

These numbers are what are important! These numbers carry the many messages from God of my worth and my value. My weight? Not important! How fast I run a mile? Not important! The measurement of my waist? Not important!

God says I am important. God says I am worthy. God says I am loved and treasured. And that doesn't hinge on what the scale says. Loved no matter what! Saved no matter what! Treasured no matter what! You just have to give your heart and faith and trust to Him! He loves you. So very much! And it is so good and so beautiful in His love! Finding my place as a daughter of the King was the first step I needed to take in my life. Pressing into Him and reading His word and praying and talking to Him was the first piece that fell into place. The rest of it all - the running and scale going down and feeling healthier than I have felt in forever? Those all came in quick succession to leaning into my Heavenly Father!

Join me on my journey! Experience this intense love and joy and happiness and health that I have found for myself! He wants it for all of His children! I want you to experience this too! Let me help you on your journey! Let me help you find Him and all of the blessings that flow freely from Him!

No need to take a number...His kingdom is open for all whenever you are ready!

Unsteady...

When January came around this year I committed to getting healthier. I had started WeightWatchers in September and to my shock the pounds weren't just falling off like they used to. They were maybe more like dripping off...and getting stuck somewhere else on my body. So New Years Eve came. Most of you know I don't like resolutions. If you want to know why there's a blog post about that. I think it's called "Rememberlutions." I don't make resolutions anymore. But I needed a boost. I needed to fight for my life and drop this weight finally. So I started my Couch to 5K app, which I completed. And I have completed several 5K races. 

And then I decided to start a Couch to 10K app. But I decided to start back at week 1 day 1 which was just repeating the Couch to 5K app. What. A. Mistake. How quickly you lose things that you worked so hard to build up!! Here I was running 40-45 minutes solid like a champ and I went back to doing sprint intervals of 1.5 minutes. And now I'm starting to build up distance and it's kicking my tail again. 

I just finished my run for Week 5, Day 3. It's a five minute walk, eight minute run,  five minute walk, eight minute run, and a five minute walk. Eight minutes doesn't seem like a lot until you are running for that long.

A first for me during my run today: I almost ate the treadmill. I was running and suddenly got super dizzy and unsteady. Usually I would be smart about such things, stop the treadmill, and slowly exit until the feeling passed. My friends will attest that I am a bit stubborn. I only had two minutes left on my last running interval. I was not stopping. 

I don't know why I got dizzy. It could be because I waited to run until 7:00 when the hot sun is blazing into my bedroom window making it like a sauna. It could be because I have some medications that I'm working on tapering down and I have felt a little weird lately. It could be my pre-workout meal choice of Spiros pizza and chocolate birthday cake with pink icing.  But no matter the reason, it happened and I pushed harder and then I became unsteady and lost my footing and had to do some extra fancy footwork to not hit the treadmill deck and fly into my dresser at the bottom. 

Unsteady. It doesn't take much to throw us off track. Since starting Weight Watchers I have been steady. Sure. Faithful. Then around spring break I let doubt creep in. I let old messages and comments from haters and negative self-talk get the best of me and I've been stuck in a plateau since, spinning my wheels in the same range of weight loss. I can do it. I know what I need to do. But I let the junk that floats from all around me in and I feel worthless and panic that I'll never be able to do it. That I'll always be fat and unloved and a failure. That I'll do what I've done every time and just give up and gain it all back again anyways. 

Seems silly, right?  I do feel like this journey is different for me this time. I used to get to this point and give up. Go back to old unhealthy eating habits. Stop exercising and go back to my couch potato life. But not this time. When I get to this point I cross my arms, grit my teeth, and dig in harder. Readjust. Plan more details of my eating. And keep on running. My food choices haven't always been stellar through this plan. But my running has been consistent. I haven't missed a run since I started in January. But those thoughts creep in and I become unsteady, but I have promised myself that I will fight with everything I have to regain my footing and composure. I will be successful.

The same can be said for my spiritual walk. I have always considered myself to be a Christian. I have grown up in the church. But I became unsteady. Unsure of my faith. A bit lax and lazy in following God and His path for me. And with each trial, each tribulation, each trauma, I maybe had those thoughts creep in that made me unsteady. Made me think that God must be against me. What did I do to lose His love? And I opened the door to Satan. I opened the door to being attacked and the thoughts of hopelessness and despair kept creeping in. Until I realized what was happening, regained my footing, and got back on track. Faith and prayer and reading my Bible and and having a prayer partner and refocusing on His plan for me helped me regain my stride and continue walking the journey He has planned. What a journey it has been! I still have moments where dark thoughts creep in and I find myself backsliding, tripping, fighting with all my might to not fall down and get hurt. But my recovery is smoother and firmer and brings me further on my walk with Him each and every time. 

I am not where I want to be yet, physically, emotionally, spiritually. But I'm in a way better place than I was! And I can only keep telling you all how glorious this place is! Set goals for yourself, no matter what domain of your self you want to work on! And know that our Heavenly Father will be there to catch you when you fall. He's there waiting for you and me to ask Him for help and guidance. He's there to help you steady yourself when the world around you seems so very unsteady. He's there always. Continue to walk the journey. Because if where I am standing now is this good, knowing that I'm not even to the finish line yet, I can't wait for what is to come! 

Steady. Sure. Faithful.  

Shut Up and Kiss Me...

I've written a lot of posts. So many, in fact, that sometimes I don't remember what I've talked about or shared with you all necessarily. So at the risk of repeating myself I'm going to share a bit about my writing process. Typically, when I get an idea for a blog, I get the title first. I jot it down on my list of blog ideas and then typically forget about it until I am given some sign that it's time to write on that particular topic. Currently there are about six titles on my list just waiting for the connection to what they're supposed to say. 

Rarely, however, this process is skipped and I come across something that is so shattering, so urgent, so important to my heart that I am given the entire thing from title to closing hook. Today is one of those blog posts. 

So, let me start by just dropping this here:

http://www.etonline.com/news/193170_victoria_beckham_under_fire_for_kissing_daughter_harper/

In case you worry that I am joining the clickbait bandwagon let me summarize what this article is about. Victoria Beckham, wife of soccer star David Beckham and former Spice Girl, is being mom shamed by the internet today for...are you sitting down? Kissing her five-year-old daughter, Harper, on the lips. Yeah. She's caused internet rage to flare because she kissed her daughter on the lips.

The article talks about how people are shaming her for "making out" with her daughter and talking about how she should save her "passionate kisses" for David and not her daughter. Reading the article made me cry. And not just well up with tears, but hand over mouth ugly cry. This is what is wrong with society. This is what I was taking about with social media in my last blog post. 

How on earth are we supposed to spread love and stop hate when so many people put so many rules and stipulations around love? We are so busy trying to control love that we are missing the point. This kiss, this simple mother-daughter kiss that they are sharing, and the ensuing controversy is only a fraction of what is wrong with people today. We try and control love from every angle. People are offended by love at every turn. We frown on public displays of affection. We have to make laws to give people permission to love and marry who they want to. We judge people when they are in relationships that don't fit the norm. And now we go after a mom because she kissed her daughter on the lips. 

I kiss my daughters on the lips. I kiss my mom and dad on the lips. I have cousins that I kiss on the lips. I even have friends that I kiss on the lips. It's a sign of love. It's a sign of affection. It's a sign that I am willing to share a piece of myself with that person. It is not sexual. I am not being passionate with my children. I don't want to sleep with my cousin. You shouldn't see me kiss my friend and judge me and think it's gross. It might not be something that you're comfortable with. And that's fine! But don't judge me because I'm ok with it.

In the article it states that there's a "rule" that you don't kiss a member of your family on the lips unless it is your husband. Huh...I'm sorry. But I must have missed getting my copy of this rule book on raising my family. I have never heard this rule or seen this rule before. What other rules am I missing? What other guidelines would they like to dole out on raising my family? Do they have anything in this rule book about having to tell your daughter that her father killed himself? Does it say anything in there about how to survive trauma? Any stipulations for dealing with the death of a pet? No? Well, by all means let's just regulate kissing and how I get to show affection to my children. 

Be kind! Who cares if I kiss my children? I feel like they deserve to be showered with kisses, on the lips or otherwise.  This is what people are choosing to be upset about? Have any of these people turned the news on lately and seen what is going on in the world? We're still going to choose to flame a mom for kissing her kids, huh?

We are so busy trying to regulate love that we are forgetting to spread love. We are so afraid of being affectionate with each other that we are turning on each other instead. We are so worried about being flamed in public or on social media for showing love to anyone that we censor ourselves in our relationships.  

Just love! Spread love and kindness! Stop picking on people because they have viewpoints that are different from yours! Don't want to kiss your daughter on the lips? Then don't! But don't sexualize my relationship with my girls and villianize me because I do kiss my daughters on the lips. Don't criticize me because I'm a touchy-feely sort of person. Don't make me feel like a bad mom because I'm kissing my kids!

I'm going to kiss my girls on the lips until they don't want me to do that anymore. And I'm going to kiss my parents on the lips until the day we part ways and say goodbye to each other. God's greatest commandment in the Bible? Matthew 22:37-40 says, "Jesus said to him, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets." It just says love. It doesn't say how that is supposed to look or how we should act or what we're supposed to do. It doesn't say just not those icky kisses. It doesn't say you can only kiss your spouses. It just says love. Just love!

Just love! I look forward to the day where we see news stories about how much love is being shared between all sorts of people in all sorts of ways! Maybe when that day comes, the kissing will outnumber the killing, and the world will have peace at last. 

Life Matters...

In the midst of having a fun sister day yesterday, we left The Melting Pot, oblivious to the horrors that were unfolding across our nation, until we couldn't find a taxi anywhere in the city. So we started walking back through Seattle Center. Julie and I were casually chatting about the events of the day, how good dinner was, life in general. We hopped on the monorail back to Westlake Center and exited the mall, not knowing that we were stepping into the middle of the Black Lives Matter protests. Being that I was living in Seattle during the time of the violent WTO riots, protests in Seattle make me extremely nervous. A phone call home to my mom to tell her we were going to miss our ferry, a brief moment of panic, a couple of texts to friends for prayers for safety for all and we were quickly making our way to the ferry. 

My phone died shortly after that so I didn't know of the heartbreak in Dallas until we got home and I plugged my phone in. Recharged, I opened Facebook and every post was about what had happened. From both sides of the racial aisle. I have many friends in law enforcement on my page and there were cries for peace and prayers for Dallas. There were posts of "an eye for an eye" intermixed in also, claiming that what happened was justice for the black men that were murdered this past week by police officers. There were tears and heartache and a sick stomach from me. I just couldn't even imagine the heartache from both sides of the agenda. 

What is wrong with our world? I feel like I have to explain, and even apologize, because I am as white as they come. I am mostly German. I have white relatives. I have mostly white friends. I will be the first to admit that I am probably very ignorant when it comes to black culture. Even typing that sentence I wonder if I'm saying it wrong.  Should I even say black? Should it be African-American? I usually don't say anything along the lines of race because there is a fear that I am going to offend an entire culture or even just someone specific. Tensions are at an all-time high and as a white person, I sympathize with the anger and fear that has arisen because of all that is going on. And I've been wanting to make a blog post on this for a long time. But how to do it without making things worse? How do I type on this topic, as a white person, without insulting or minimalizing the feelings of an entire culture?

I pray. I ask for God's guidance when writing these posts and I ask Him to speak through my writing. I ask Him what I should be saying, if anything. I have been called to write on this topic and it is creating such angst for me. I don't know if my writing will help or hurt or not even matter. I still just imagine me typing these for my own purpose, for my own benefit, and that no one is reading them anyways. So when I type with that in mind, it might make this post easier.

Typing this gives me the same feeling that I had the day I wrote on Robin William's suicide.  A deep, sick pit in my stomach. There is so much loss and sadness. So much volitility. So much finger pointing and hatred. What are we supposed to do? How are we going to pull ourselves out of the mess that this country has become?

My first instinct? Pray! The people that don't believe in God or don't trust that He will pull us out of this will tell me that prayer only makes the one praying feel better. That it does nothing for the situation. I don't believe that. Prayer is the battle that we are fighting. It is our response to a world gone mad. And we are indeed at war with Satan right this very moment. The tragedies and the circumstances that are happening right now are being orchestrated by Satan. And he is sitting back and laughing at the ensuing chaos and panic that is rippling across our country. So first, I believe we need to bring God back to the center of this nation. There are so many unbelievers that I know that this seems like a daunting task to those of us that are willing to lead this army. But lead we must! We must pray! Pray for our nation. Pray for our cultures. Pray for our enemies. Pray for each other. So much life has been lost. So much trust has been bruised. So many egos have gotten in the way of people doing their jobs.

Black people verses cops is what is playing out and unfolding right now before our eyes. The videos that have been recently posted are disturbing no matter what side you think you need to take. I can't even imagine being in those situations. There is widespread fear that cops are just going to continue picking off black people one at a time. And since last night in Dallas, there are officers leaving their families thinking that this may be the last time they are seeing their families. None of it is fair! None of it is right!

In any culture, in any race, in any profession, there is that 10% of the population that will "ruin it for everyone else." The bad guys from each walk of life surface at some point and it instantly becomes front page news. There are bad cops. There are bad black people. There are bad white people. There are bad teachers. There are bad priests. And what does our news and media focus on? Who is sensationalized in our media? The bad 10%. We rarely hear of the cops that are heroes. We rarely hear of the black citizens that have greatly contributed to society. We hear from the 10%. They are the ones that make headlines and sell newspapers. 

My second piece of advice for now? Social media needs to stop being the place where we play out these wars. Armchair attorneys, keyboard juries, people judging and criticizing and watching snippets of video and making judgments based on what he said or what she said. This goes for everyone! Social media has become the platform where we display all aspects of our lives. We sit on our phones or our computers or our tablets and watch videos that are posted or stories that are reported and proceed to allow ourselves to be judge, jury, and executioner in every situation we are presented with.  If you weren't there and don't know the whole story, why are you judging? The comments section on any article or video or post is a heart-breaking, horrible scene. Even the most innocent post turns into a comment-slinging, hate-filled montage of judgement from other people. Cute videos of a puppy eating a lemon? Horrible comments about animal abuse and torture and how this person shouldn't even own a dog. A Caucasian women puts cute twists in her hair and sleeps on them to make her hair curly? Degrading comments insulting the woman's looks and tirades about how she is "stealing black culture" because those are actually called Bantu knots and how dare she claim this hairstyle as her own. A video showing the fiancé of a black man dying in the passenger seat next to her? The speech towards cops, saying they are all racist pigs and need to die. 

How did we get here? How did we get to this point in our world where there is such disregard for human lives. Blatant disregard for the feelings of other people. Such hatred and intolerance and quick snap judgements.  Rather than criticizing and striking down the opinions and ideas of others, why can't we give an inch and be tolerant? Being that I am German, and that my father was born in Nazi Germany, I could teach you about German history. I bet there are things about my culture and my past that I could teach you and tell you about. I could tell you how my grandmother spoke several languages and that she and my father were marched to a relocation camp because they weren't Hitler's version of the perfect German. I don't know anything about Bantu knots (until I watched that YouTube video about them) But guess what? Teach me about your culture! Tell me calmly about the origin of that hairstyle rather than call me a racist and accuse me is stealing a piece of your culture without acknowledging it. Because I would have called them tiny, messy buns just like that white lady in the video I saw did, not knowing any better. 

Social media posts have become kerosene to a fire that has been igniting for a long time. And that ignition is leading to an explosion right now. America's favorite pastime is flaming people who post on social media. This is probably why I'm so terrified of posting this. Rather than hoping it starts a conversation or a movement, rather than hoping it gets shared with a message for people across the United States, I fear that I will be labeled ignorant or racist or hate-filled. My message in all of my blog posts has been consistent: Be kind! For we are all fighting battles. The battles that have ignited are bigger than me and this blog. But maybe there will be something in here that people will read and relate to. Share this post if you are so moved! We need to work together to fix this nation. To fix our hearts. To fix our citizens. We need to stop with the divisive talk and figure out how to grab hands with our friends and families and neighbors and strangers and unite together to become great again. There is no politician or leader that is going to "make America great again." That isn't the job of someone we are going to vote for in November. That job? It's in our hands! It's in our black hands, and our white hands. It's in blue hands. It's in God's hands. 

Our news reels and social media pages are full of news stories, one right after another, set up for the sole purpose to strike a divide between people. Because no matter if you are black or white, young or old, cops or citizens, at our core, at our very foundation, we are exactly just that: people. We are people. We are flesh and blood people. We are moms and dads. Sisters and brothers. Sons and daughters. We are one single slice of  society. One small speck in this great big world. But united together, we can become we, the people, of the United States again. 

It's not Black Lives Matter or White Lives Matter or Blue Lives Matter. It should be LIFE MATTERS! Life...living...breathing...truly savoring each and every moment of this journey. We are given such a limited amount of time on this earth. Our days and seconds are numbered. We only get so many seconds of life. And yet we choose to waste so many of those seconds in hate-filled rhetoric. Life is amazing! Life is good! Please, don't focus on the 10% that makes life horrible! Don't give screen time to the cops that kill in cold blood. Don't give in to the riotous groups that litter social media. Don't fall into the mob mentality that perpetuates the cycle of hate. 

Get off your phones and have face-to-face conversations with people. Learn about new cultures, but don't shame me for not knowing! Teach me what I would like to know! Don't hate all cops because of the actions of some spineless officers! Don't be scared of all black people because our media has created them to be "thugs". We, the people, of the United States seem to be at a crossroads. We can either succumb to the insanity that is happening all around us, or we can join hands and join hearts and work to make America great again. Listen to others! Don't judge or criticize! Approach situations with kindness instead of hate! Teach our fellow people how to interact respectfully and with dignity. We are all people. People. Tear away all of the fear and worry and hate and emotion and that's all we are. We are people. Not monsters. Not racists. Not bigots. Not murderers. Please start the conversation among yourselves. Be kind!

Life matters. I'm sure many of you will read this and think that I am oversimplifying the situation. That it's more complicated than that. That I couldn't possible understand the situation because of my white privelege. And maybe you are right. Then help me understand! Because all I see is a world of scared, worried, hurting people. People who are shaped and molded by preconceived notions and experiences and perspectives that we may not know about. All I see are people trying to make their seconds count. People that are fighting to navigate a lost and lonely world. We need Jesus! We need God! We need Holy Spirit! And like it or not, we need each other! Life matters. I don't want to continue to live in a world where this mess is the everyday. I want to spread love and joy and peace to the world. I want to share the love of God. I want peace on earth and love thy neighbor and all the goodness that I know we all have to offer. I want to post a video of my kids without worrying that someone is going to shame me for something I did or didn't do or said. I want to love and be loved and experience each second and every day to the fullest!

Life matters! Live your lives in love! Not in hate. Don't look at others as simply a skin tone but as fellow human beings to love and honor and share this ride with. Don't let society and life fall to the 10%. Life is at the 90%! We are the majority! We can make life matter! We can make America great again. But we need to bond together! We need to spread messages. Keep it simple. Life matters! And so do each and every one of you! Be kind! And let's fix this broken world we live in, one heart at a time. I'm here! I'm willing to help lead this army! Just take my hand and let's walk forward into the healing light together! 

Peace to you, my friends! If you are called to do so, share this post. It takes everyone to be a part of this! Spread this

message of love and kindness! Don't let evil win! Be kind! And God bless all lives!

I Hope You Had the Time of Your Life...

I am a fairly insecure person. Most people probably wouldn't guess that about me. In fact, if I had a nickel every time someone said, "How are you so confident always?" I usually stare blankly back at them for a while and then try to stifle laughter as the words sink into my brain. I am not confident, but I certainly am one of those "fake it 'til you make it" types. I volunteer for leadership positions. I've been the speech department chair five years and on the management committee for all but three years of my fifteen-year career. I offer to teach classes to my school staff and give trainings to the speech department on issues in Autism, which is my area expertise. These positions I get myself into are utterly nerve-wracking. My stomach gets upset, I dread the day I have to talk in front of a group, and sometimes I seriously consider just calling into work sick on the days I have to lead a discussion or a meeting. Everyone usually tells me what a great job I have done when it's all over, but I never exactly know how I survived. 

There is a lot that I don't like about me. And I tend to focus on those perceived downfalls. I automatically assume that someone is judging me with something. My weight. My looks. I'm not smart enough. I'm not pretty. I look goofy. There are a million tapes playing in my head based on what I am going through in that particular moment. These tapes lead me to have anxiety and panic when I'm in a social situation. I can usually fake it 'til I make it, but sometimes the messages I tell myself are overwhelming and I just can't do it. This happened a few weeks ago. 

I graduated from Olympic High School in 1996. Twenty years ago!  I started seeing the posts on Facebook for our 20-year class reunion a while back. I joined the Facebook group to receive updates about the reunion and was so excited to see the names of people I hadn't heard about for so long. Many of my classmates are already on my Facebook friends list, but how exciting it would be to sit across a table from some of them and reminisce about the good ol' days when we wandered the halls of the high school. 

But...the closer we got to the event, the more my anxiety kicked in. I wasn't really popular in high school. I was overweight, awkward, covered in acne. I was everyone's friend, but not close to anyone. I played sports, which helped, but usually sat in the front of the bus and studied on the way to games rather than being in conversation with anyone. I dreaded lunchtime and would usually find myself in the library or in a teacher's classroom having conversations with them rather than with kids in the cafeteria. The only dance I went to was prom. I didn't go to football games. I loved high school! But there were a lot of fake it 'til you make it moments. 

This anxiety was only half of my issues though. The other anxiety that I deal with now are the life questions that inevitably come up when you haven't seen someone for twenty years. The one that stresses me out most? Are you married? It still catches me off guard. How do I answer this? Is a simple no enough? Do I need to share that I'm widowed? People ask all the time and I typically say "No, I'm widowed." And then that leads to an awkward "I'm sorry" and "what happened?" Which just leads to more awkward. So this is what I stress about. 

My sweet sister tried to help me through that. I was venting to her before the reunion about how I was too anxious to go and she asked why. I told her I didn't want to tell people what my life has been the last twenty years. She stared at me in her little sister way, like I was utterly stupid and said, "What?! You don't want them to know you got your Masters Degree? That you have an amazing job that you're good at? That you have two beautiful little girls? That you own your house and manage to take care of all of those things while being a single mom? That you've lost fifty pounds in the last few months, Yeah, you're right...that would suck." I laughed nervously, but couldn't shake the negative.  

Amelia's surgery was scheduled for a couple days before the reunion weekend and I was relieved! I had a legit excuse not to go. So I posted on a few posts saying I wished I could go, but it just wasn't going to happen. I couldn't leave Amelia. And I didn't go. And then I watched the pictures from the events pour onto my Facebook page. People were having so much fun. Talking and laughing and drinking and just having fun. And I found myself wishing I was there. Regretting my decision to not go. Seeing friends and people from twenty years ago and wishing I was there to hug them and talk to them. I felt stupid and small for not only missing this opportunity, but also for judging the people that I thought would judge me. There weren't cliques sitting together. There were whole groups of people just being adults and being friendly and having fun. My perspective from twenty years ago made me miss out on a fun time. 

My advice out of all of this? Don't do that!   Don't miss out on life because of preconceived notions that are made up in your head. If I could rewind just a little bit I would go to that reunion and have fun. Give people a chance before I assume the worst in them. And also? Don't let your past define you! My sister was right (don't tell her I said that!) My accomplishments are so much bigger than the few tragedies we've experienced. I'm not just a widow. I shouldn't define myself by a box I might check on a form. I'm a mom. I'm a professional. I'm a speech-language pathologist. I'm a home owner. I'm a survivor. I shouldn't be afraid to even admit I'm a widow, because that statement alone proves that I'm pretty badass. I went through something horrible and I'm still standing today. 

We need to stop and think not about how people see us. That is not what is important. We need to start evaluating ourselves how God sees us. I am a daughter of the King. I am His beloved daughter. His child. I am loved deeply by Him. He doesn't care how damaged we are.  He doesn't judge us based on any criteria. He doesn't care if we are anxious disasters of people. We are His. Whole and loved and forgiven and beautiful creations. I forgot about this and felt I wasn't good enough. And I have felt this my whole life. That I wasn't good enough. What an awful thing to think about one of God's precious creations! I am beautifully made! And thinking that someone could think less of me is wrong. Because it's not about what anyone else thinks, but just knowing that I am His!

And it's not fair to assume the worst in people. No one was mean to me in high school. I never put myself out there to give people a chance. I just assumed that people wouldn't like me or would make fun of me or would think that I am weird or a nerd or fat. That wasn't fair to them. And it wasn't fair to myself. I short-changed myself in experiences, and apparently I still am, because I didn't think I was good enough. Something to pray about and work on for sure. If I stop and think about one of my friends thinking this way or saying these things, I would be appalled and would tell them otherwise. Why don't I treat myself the same way? I am worthy! I am beautiful! I am fun! I am all of these things and so much more!

And you are all too! Don't miss out on life and experiences because of self-defeating feelings! You are given one life to live. You are given opportunities to live and have experiences! Don't sit out because of your own dark thoughts. Fake it 'til you make it? Not good enough! You should be out there having the time of your life. Live like the moments and the minutes are slipping away because, guess what? They are! I'll never have another twenty year reunion. I missed it. And I'm sad that I did. But no more! I'm praying on this aspect of my life because I need help walking through this, but I have to live without fear! I know He is walking with me in every moment and because of that, I will have the time of my life for all eternity!