The Story of Us...

I know I already posted a blog post for today, but when I am told to write, I write. The last day of school happened today. It's always such a bittersweet time in the school year. We, as teachers and staff and students, pour our blood, sweat, and tears into the work that we complete from September to June. The year goes by in a flash, and with many ups and downs, much like a roller coaster at the fair we will most likely visit over the summer break. There are twists and turns, corkscrews and upside down loop-the-loops, steep climbs and sudden free falls down the the bottom. And then, in the blink of an eye, the ride is over. You get off, wonder if you got your money's worth, and decide you'll get back in line and start the ride over again in the fall. 

I have come to learn that sometimes, cars fall off the track. Some get old and rusty and decide they just don't work anymore. Some decide to try a bigger or better or faster roller coaster somewhere else. Sometimes we send our baby cars up to the bigger track, even when they'd rather stay on our small, safe kiddie ride. 

This blog post isn't about roller coasters, although most of you can read between the lines and see what I was getting at. The story of us! The story that makes up John D. "Bud" Hawk Elementary at Jackson Park. The story of us...

Every year we write another chapter into the story. Every year, we, as a group, open the journal that is HEJP and begin to write our story. We have classrooms filled with fresh, eager faces. They come in wearing their best back to school outfits. There are tears and pictures and quick hugs from trying-not-to-cry mommas. The staff is back, eager to start the new year. Waiting to see which kids will be in their class. Oh I remember your big brother. This is my *insert numbers of years here* year here. That teacher is new to our story. Oh man...not THAT momma. And we begin to write. Back to school assemblies. New schedules. Changes in routine. Remembering how to be a student. Settling into the rhythm that will be your school year. The story of us...

The year flies by. The work gets harder. The teachers get more tired and more stressed. Kids are crazy at Christmas break. Crazier at Spring Break. Unbearable after standardized testing. There's paperwork demands and IEP meetings and angry parents and tired kids. There's new curriculum and not enough time and new contracts and inadequate resources. There's field trips and field day and assemblies and talent shows and So. Much. To. Cram. In. The story of us...

And then, just like a funnel cloud, when you think you can't bear one more thing you are sitting at the last day of school and the stress evaporates. And new emotions flood in. Sadness at losing your kids to the next year. Relief at surviving to the end. Elation that all of the things you were supposed to do got done. Anticipation for a new year as you look around a clean, packed up room and walk out of the front doors of the school until the coming fall. The story of us...

Who is this us? It is the people that make up HEJP. I've gushed about my job and my coworkers before but I truly am the luckiest speech therapist in the whole district. I joined the Jackson Park family almost fourteen years ago and have helped write many chapters in the story of us. There are kids and principals and teachers and staff and parents and so many people that make up the story of us. And it doesn't take much to see the story unfold before your eyes as you walk through the hallways and have conversations with the people there. 

Walking through the school today my heart was filled. Filled with students giving me last minute hugs. Parents singing my praises and giving me treasured thank you gifts. Staff and teachers hugging and crying and saying goodbyes to some of our favorites. A principal that has been with us for ten years walking through our doors for the last time. A beloved Kindergarten teacher moving on to a bigger roller coaster in the park. And friends that have retired coming back to celebrate our year's end. We are so blessed to be authors in this story. So blessed to be partners with such an amazing team of individuals, all working furiously to finish this year's chapter. And to prepare for the next one. The story of us...

When you walk the halls of HEJP, you are touched by the people contained in those walls. You know that you walk among greatness as you move from pod to pod, classroom to classroom, and witness the love and compassion and wisdom being shared with our students. You feel the presence of our retired authors. You understand the efforts of the authors still present. And if you leave after time in our hallowed halls, you leave a piece of yourself behind, and you take a piece of the rest of us with you. The story of us...

Our principal, our leader is moving on. There is fear and sadness and apprehension, but I am not worried! We have the best staff in the district. We have ups and downs but we ALWAYS pull together when we need to the most. And we have yet another opportunity to pull together again. We will only be stronger! We will only be greater! We will continue to add pages to the story of us!

And I firmly believe that anyone who walks into HEJP has been called to work there. Our school is special. Our kids need us. Our families need us. And we need those kids. Standing in my empty office for the last time this morning, I breathed deeply and tears flooded to my eyes. God brought me to that school. And He brought each and every one of you too! My life path has led me to the doors of that school. I am so blessed by my kids and their families and my coworkers. What a team! What a story!

The story of us! So far it's an amazing chapter by chapter account of the lives we have touched, individually and as the family we are! And with each chapter that each author turns in, I can guarantee we're writing a best-seller!

Wishing all of my co-authors an amazing, refreshing, rejuvenating summer! See you in the fall with fresh, crisp paper for chapter 2016-2017! The Story of Us...

Perspectives...

My passion at my job is working with my babies that are somewhere on the Autism spectrum. I enjoy the social groups that I run more than any other treatment sessions that I run. I have often said that my dream job would be to leave my position at the school district and open a private clinic just working with children and adults with Autism. But for now, I enjoy being somewhat of an "expert" in my district with students with high functioning Autism and I am happy in my calling.

Many of the problem-solving instances that I run into with my students happens to revolve around perspective. People with Autism have a very difficult time taking the perspective of another person. They are highly egocentric, only thinking about themselves and their opinions. Many arguments and misunderstandings start because they cannot see the side of the other person. 

This is not exclusive to my special education children. I was witness to a few experiences today where perspective was lost on one side of the argument. I'm not sure whether to feel horrible that our society doesn't get perspective or get excited because that is job security for me. Perspective is so important!

We all fall into this trap from time to time. For example, a few weeks ago, a friend of mine posted on Facebook how wonderful their trip to Sequim had been. What a lovely town and such wonderful people and how they couldn't wait to go back. I reacted poorly and commented with "Yuck!" And the emoji with the mask over his face. Eventually I pulled my comment, apologized to the original poster, and explained my reaction. Sequim is where my husband was from. It does not hold fond memories for me anymore, but rather is an emotional trigger for me and all the stuff we went through. I still can't easily bring myself to even drive Highway 3 north towards Poulsbo. I can feel myself slipping into a PTSD reaction before I've even hit the second Poulsbo exit. Perspective...

Our history or our experiences or our human nature shapes our perspectives. Our reactions to situations are typically based on something that we have already been through. Watching a very angry dad this morning in the school office, I started thinking about this blog post and perspectives. The office had one side of the story. The dad felt another side was true. His perspective was different from that of the office staff. What experiences had he been through that shaped his reaction this morning?

Reactions in typically developing people form perspective differences are usually benign. Often there is an agreement that there was a misunderstanding and life goes on. Sometimes even there's laughter at how silly the shift was. But add in someone with circumstances that make the reaction volitile and people are left in the aftermath. Autism spectrum is only one thing that can alter reactions to a situation. Difficult past. Rough childhood. Distrust of leaders. Being burned before. There's a lot that goes into shaping our perspective. This does not excuse our reactions. My philosophy with my students and with others is to always BE KIND! Be kind! Don't fly off the handle without the facts. Don't get upset without listening to the other side. Don't react poorly to something just because your experience is something different. I apologized to my friend who I blasted about Sequim. That was a knee jerk reaction that I imagine took away a little piece of her fun and enjoyment of sharing her weekend. 

This is not much different from our spiritual walk. Walking a faith journey with God is filled with circumstances and history. We are shaped in our walk by my many things that alter our perspectives. What religion we grew up with. Who pushed something on is that we weren't interested in hearing. The doctrines that we were taught growing up. My perspectives as a life-long Lutheran have shaped me into who I am and what I believe today. But as I continue to stretch and grow in my faith, I am starting to see those perspectives and how they come into play with my beliefs. Things that make me worry about praying. Things that make me feel like I'm not worthy of gifts from my Father. Things I've learned that alter the basis for my last 38 years of beliefs. The bottom line? The only perspective that matters in all of that mess is my Heavenly Father's. He loves me. No matter what I try to do to mess things up, He loves me. He sent His Son to die on a cross for me and He loves me. That is the only perspective I need. 

So when bad things are happening all around you, people are terrible, and you feel like the whole world is against you, first know that there are other perspectives involved in the situation. Those perspectives, whether right or wrong, shape people into who or what they are fighting for. So my first piece of advice goes back to something I say often. Be kind...for we are all fighting battles no one knows anything about. And my next piece of advice is to remember the One that loves you more than anything. Who has the perspective that you an amazing creation. Who has your plans for your future laid out. Who is cradling you and loving you through life, even the days where going on does not seem like an option. 

Keep going. Be kind. Don't let the evil and darkness win. We are all fighting battles. Even the other guy so forgive them and pray for them and know that you tried your best in a difficult situation. Perspectives...sometimes you wouldn't want to know what is shaping theirs...

Anything but Ordinary...

Growing up, I didn't want to be ordinary. I wanted to be the best at everything I did. It wasn't enough for me to be a good writer. I wanted to be the best, and winning the VFW essay contest every year from 3rd through 12th grade was my proof to myself that I was a good writer. It wasn't enough for me to play sports. Highest point scorer in basketball at Peace for the girls and boys teams helped. Best female discus thrower on Olympic High School's track team my senior year was also important. It wasn't enough for me to get good grades. That one A- my last quarter in high school that left me to graduate with a 3.998 and rank 8th in my class of 400 was good, but slightly disappointing for myself. I expected perfection. I expected to be the best. I wanted to be extraordinary. 

These plans carried through into my college years. I was pre-med. I was going to be a pediatric oncologist. I was going to be the best in my field. Plans changed. One slip up on an Organic Chemistry midterm and I knew that medical school was out of the question. My grade would be too low and I couldn't imagine any medical school would accept me as a student. So I started to look for something else to do. I found Speech and Hearing Sciences as a major. It was like the best of both my worlds: teaching and medicine. I'd get to teach like is always wanted, but I'd still get to diagnose too! I threw myself into my major and expected perfection once again. I wanted to be extraordinary. 

In every situation I would find myself in, I would convince myself I was not extraordinary. I was just ordinary.  Nothing special. Nothing spectacular. Just ordinary. 

What is ordinary anyways? The dictionary defines ordinary as something that is "of no special quality or interest; commonplace; unexceptional." My life in the last six years has been anything but ordinary. What I wouldn't give to go back and just be ordinary! Life being ordinary is not a bad thing. Same routine. Same comforts. Same people to love. Same circumstances. Just...ordinary. 

And then life became anything but ordinary. Rather than my days being filled with mundane everyday ordinary tasks, my days soon filled with detectives and CPS representatives. Visits with fire chiefs and head of law enforcement. And then it became filled with paying to get my car out of impound and talking with funeral directors. Balancing life with two baby girls and trying to make arrangements to bury my husband. Anything but ordinary...

I would plead and beg God to make my life ordinary again. To please just help me get back to the days when things were ordinary. Where I was just taking care of my babies and going to work and cooking dinner and it was just plain ordinary. To take me back to days where I didn't feel like I was drowning in my own head and I couldn't come up for air. To just take me anywhere but where I was. 

But He didn't. He didn't take me back to where I was. He didn't take me back to ordinary. Because God doesn't do ordinary. It's taken years of fighting with Satan and fighting with seizures and fighting with myself to realize I needed to stop fighting. I needed to let go and let God take over. I needed to stop trying to fix my life, stop trying to get back to ordinary, and let God step in. And it took me a long time to do that, but I finally did! And what an extraordinary life this has become!

I still have the ordinary, typically mundane tasks such as laundry and cooking dinner and work, but I now get to see them through the lenses of my Heavenly Father. I get to take every day as a brand new day, everyday as a new opportunity to live my extraordinary. The extraordinary isn't anything that I have done. It isn't anything that I create. It's the little things that He creates in my days. My girls and I get to live in His shadow and each and every second of every day is an opportunity to see the extraordinary that He has set in our path. The sparkle in Emerson's eyes as we laugh and play on the couch. The perfect form of Amelia's arms and legs as she shows me a new dance move she learned in class. The Spiritual Gift awards that their teachers granted them because they see pieces of God in their souls. The excitement at sitting down to dinner together. God take life...ordinary everyday life...and turns it into the extraordinary. Extraordinary tiny moments built into our day to remind us of His grace and mercy and power. 

Life will never be ordinary again...not when we have our Heavenly Father walking us through. And I'm not saying all days are sunshine and roses because they're not. Yesterday my grief roller coaster took a fast dip downward and my heart was so very heavy all day. Grieving loss or ordinary. But He was present in that moment also, reminding me that He was there to carry me through. Reminding me how important that cycle is. Reminding me that He was right there, and His path for me in all of the mess is anything by ordinary. 

Your path is anything but ordinary also!  Pray! Talk to Him! Ask Him to help you find your extraordinary through Him! And I will pray for each and everyone of you too! Because an ordinary life is a bit overrated. I want to live my extraordinary life with Him!!

Called to Serve...

The end of the school year is probably one of the most difficult stretches for people who work in a school setting. The fresh-faced teachers and students of September are long gone. People are tired and grumpy. We all start taking short cuts. Longer recess. More fun. There are five hundred end of the year activities. Spirit week. School dances. Building traditions. Good-byes to teachers who are retiring or leaving. It's a grueling, long time between Spring Break and Memorial Day weekend. The teachers walk around like zombies a little bit perhaps, wondering how in the world the clock only says 9:30 a.m. on a Monday morning. The students are hyped up and can barely contain themselves, knowing there's only a few more days to check off before they are free for the summer. It's a tough time. 

I love my job! No, seriously! I love what God has called me to do. I grumble about it from time to time. Too much paperwork. Not enough time. Too many mandates. But, overall, when I look at my career that I have chosen, I can't believe that this is my job. I get to teach kids how to communicate! I get to work with kids and their families and get them to a better place than they were when I met them in September. 

The end of the year is exciting for many of the students. Their goals have been met and they are sounding better in their speech, or they finally understand how those verbs work, or they have made a friend that they wouldn't even talk to at the beginning of the year. Sometimes, however, the progress just didn't happen and that breaks my heart. They maybe lost some teeth or got braces so their articulation didn't progress as far as I was hoping. Or they just cannot let go of some of their quirkiness so they still don't have any friends. I take my job seriously. And I take my kids' progress to heart, as a reflection on me and the kids of what kind of therapist I am. 

I truly believe that God has called me to work with these students at this school. This was not what I had planned to do, and looking at the path I took to get here I can see that this is exactly what God had in mind for me. I was supposed to be a speech-language pathologist at the school that I am at right now. I was called to serve. 

So, when I come across people who are not as committed to the job, it makes me a little bit crazy. Read the comment section of any news article on special education and it's typically full of unhappy parents throwing jabs at how awful special education teachers are. I used to read the comments and get so angry. What are they talking about? Special education teachers are the best! We love our kids! We always want what's best for them. We always fight to get them what they need. Perhaps I am very naive but it appears that I have been mistaken. Not all special education teachers, or general education teachers for that matter, have the students' best interests at heart. 

Psalm 100:2 says, "Serve the Lord with gladness..." and I try to take this to heart as I move into each day. Mid-May is a bit tougher to work toward this as we are bombarded with everything that has to be done at the end of the year. But this year, as I have grown in my faith walk and now strive to glorify His name in everything that I accomplish, I speak this verse in my office each and every morning. I want to serve the Lord with gladness in everything that I do at work. 

I know that I am at a different place in my faith and my life and my career as some of my colleagues. I'm only fifteen years into my career. I am a single mom with two little girls. I believe that every event, good or bad, has shaped my path throughout this life. Things were set in motion many many years ago to get me to where I am today. I know that I have no control over how my colleagues perform, but when their lack of care and concern impacts the students that I work with, I react. I get upset. I get angry. I try and overcompensate for their lack of effort. I have taken on the stress and anxiety and sadness and frustration for a lot of events at work lately. I have vented to other colleagues who I know care and are great educators. I have stayed up nights fretting and worrying about what to do in certain situations. I have tried hard to fix things for my families that are upset with events that have taken place.  Finally this morning, I paused. 

I paused because He whispered into my ear. "Why are you trying so hard? Is that your job to fix this? Do you not trust me to make this work out for My good?"  It goes back to the blog post about fixing things. I will be bold and say that I am good at my job. I am good at what I do. I care deeply for my students, their parents, their families. But, it isn't my responsibility. This isn't my responsibility. My responsibility is to do my job and serve the Lord with gladness. To perform my daily tasks to the best of my ability. To love and care for those babies and to give them the best education I can while they are in my room. And then, my job is to pray for them. To pray that God will protect them and nurture them and place them with people that will build them up and make them the best versions of themselves. I have to serve my Lord with gladness and know that His hand is in everything, including what they do when they are not with me. 

I serve the Lord with gladness. And I pray for my babies as they navigate through their days. As much as I look forward to summer, I also dread those final school days because there is so much to do, but even more because many of them are headed to middle school this year. I will miss them terribly. I don't let go of my kids very well. I'm losing eight of my most favorite boys to middle school. And I worry. I worry about what might happen to them as they enter middle school. I worry that maybe their teachers and therapists won't care about them like I care about them. And then, I'm reminded: this is not my battle, not my responsibility. I have to let them go and let God step in. And pray for their teachers and therapists and families. And pray for them. 

The kids I work with mean the world to me. And I hope that God places them with teachers and therapists that also serve the Lord with gladness.  

It's Too Late...

Its been a while since I've pulled an all-nighter. But as I sit in bed and listen to the birds chirping outside my window, I'm reminded of many days of sitting up through the night. I've always been a night owl. I loved the idea of being able to stay up later as I grew up. In high school I would pour over books and study and when I was finished I either would read for hours into the night or I would stay up to watch The Tonight Show. My mom would come into my room and tell me to go to sleep, that it was too late for me to still be awake. 

It's too late...those words cause my stomach to drop. No matter how you look at that phrase it isn't exactly positive. I imagine sitting at a party having a wonderful time and someone sayin "Gosh, it's late...we need to get going." Fun times are over, the party breaks up, and people head for home." Another scenario is being too late to help someone. Like when I got the call that my grandfather was dying. I raced through the streets of Seattle on foot and on a bus, hoping and praying I would be able to give him one more hug. Or one more kiss. To hear his voice one more time. But I was too late. 

There are many things in life I have felt "too late" for. And when you stay up all night with a racing mind, the hopelessness of the phrase tends to creep in even deeper. There were many times in basketball games as a kid when my shot was too late. I didn't make it, or it was blocked, or I didn't beat the buzzer...too late. I thought I loved a boy in high school and when I finally got the nerve to ask him to a dance, he had asked another girl...too late. I made a decision to go to a party in college instead of staying home and studying for my chemistry mid-term. I tried hard to cram the next morning through foggy thinking, but it didn't help...too late. I was too late to get home to my grandfather. I was too late in noticing that my husband and my marriage were crumbling. I was too late to save him. Too late...

And then there's tonight. No sleep. Tears streaming down my face as I reflect on all of these too late moments. The enemy is present in my house tonight, or this morning now, pushing thoughts into my head to distract me and take my eyes off my Heavenly Father. He whispers "It's too late..." into my ear over and over and over. Wanting me to give up. Wanting me to give in. Thinking that it's too late to lose weight and get healthy. You're thirty-eight years old. You've been fat your whole life. You really think you can turn this around now? Pushing in the message that I have spent my whole life being too late. Figuring out things just one step behind everyone else. Feeling worthless and ashamed. So full of guilt and anxiety. Feeling life being sucked away a moment at a time until I don't think I can breathe and all I want to do is put my babies in the truck and drive away where no one will ever find us. 

Satan wants all those thoughts in our head. He wants us to feel worthless and ashamed and hopeless. He wants us to sit in the dark and watch shadows swirl and be afraid. He wants us to fall into that trap and start the downward spiral that leads to sin and self-hatred and turning away from God and death. 

And then, just when I don't think I can handle any more, light streaks in through my blinds in my bedroom. Daylight is here. The darkness and the night are driven out by the day and it's the start of a new day. Psalm 91 floods into my head and I am free at last to breathe and remember who it is I belong to. 

For with Him, it's never too late. Every moment is a new chance to believe and stand firm in His presence. It's not too late to love and care and forgive. It's not too late to turn your life around, no matter what your transgressions are. It's not too late to ask for help and spiritual healing from the soul wounds that threaten to bleed you dry. It's not too late to find rest in his loving arms. It's not too late to start living instead of merely existing. 

There will be many times in life where I will think "it's too late" and as someone who deals with anxiety and PTSD on an almost daily basis, it is super easy for me to get caught up in the "it's too late" mindset. So I pray. And I read my Bible. And I reach out to friends. And with all of those factors in play, I hope that I can always hang on until that first hint of daybreak. And bolstering myself up in the presence of God, reading His word, and remembering that I am the daughter of the King, I will know that it's never too late to be loved by my Heavenly Father. 

It's not too late! He loves us all so very much and He wants to have a relationship with each and every one of us. He wants to carry us through the darkness of night. He wants us to come to Him in our hour of need. He wants to fix things when it's just too late. 

It's never too late! Don't ever give up...and I won't either...

Talk to Me...

I love to talk! I love to be social! I love deep conversations talking about most any topic. I like mindless conversations with friends about nothing. I like sitting on the couch with my bestie in complete silence, knowing that we are having the most heartfelt conversation there could ever be. I love that human connection. 

Emerson came home today broken-hearted because her best friend is moving, a hazard of living in a Navy town with Navy friends. With crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks, she looked at me with her big blue eyes, and sobbed into my arms. "Mommy, who will I talk to now?"

Friends are so important in life. I know I've written about friends before in these pages. Friends are an important part of my life, of my kids' lives. We cherish the relationships that we make with people. And from a young age we learn that talking to our friends is an important function. 

I had the privilege of working with my best friend for quite a while. She was just down the hallway, or just up the stairs whenever I needed her. Something would come up in my day and I'd run to her for advice. We ate lunch together almost every day. If I saw something that reminded me of her, I'd send her a quick email. I came to rely on her presence. She walked and guided me through a lot of stuff, both good and bad. We could sit and talk for hours, in person or on the phone. And she is one that sometimes just sitting in silence letting our hearts do the talking is the best. 

But, she retired and doesn't work with me anymore. It was a rough time for me when she announced she was done. I shed a lot of tears and threw myself into making her last year at our school the best ever. Not sure if I was successful, but it helped me get through my pain of losing her daily presence. 

But I survived her departure. And she and I have had honest conversations lately about how it was most likely the best thing that could have happened because I was running to her when I really should have been running to my Heavenly Father. I do that now! I still talk to my friend, but I also talk to God. 

It talks about prayer a lot in the Bible. Jesus gave us prayers. Holy Spirit filled the disciples and they spoke in tongues. The word prayer is scattered throughout the Bible. As a lifelong Christian you would think that praying is my second nature, something I'd be super good at. Well, I'm not very good at it. At all. Even scripted prayers such as The Lord's Prayer, I panic halfway through that I'll forget lines or stumble over the words. It's not a strength of mine. 

But you know what IS a strength of mine? Talking! I'm great at talking. To anyone usually...even myself! Ha! So, I have turned praying into talking. I haven't given up praying. I still pray and practice and recite the Lord's Prayer in those moments I just don't know what to say. But I have been talking with my Heavenly Father. And guess what? He talks back if you listen carefully. He wants so badly to have conversation with you! You just need to pause and be still and listen for His voice! 

Father or Jesus or Holy Spirit want to be your best friend, whichever of the Holy Trinity you most often turn to. For me, it happens to be Father. On my walks during my lunch break I put my praise music into my ear buds, walk around the school campus, and talk to Father God about life. He cares! He wants to listen! He wants to help you journey through this life and find your way out of the dark. He wants to know your struggles and your passions. He's an always ready friend, waiting for you to share your day with Him. 

I understand there is a different comfort in a flesh and bones friend, a warm body to sit next to and hold hands and laugh and chat and share your life with. I still do that part too. But I have put her back into the friend role rather than my Savior role. She is still my best friend and I still share lots with her. But I don't run to her with everything. I don't expect her to help me fix my problems. I don't have expectations for her other than to still be my best, earthly friend. We still have hours-long conversations filled with nothing and everything. We still laugh and talk and brainstorm ideas. And we have invited God to be part of our friendship and that has made it into something I never would have imagined. 

So, talk to your friends. And be a listening ear for your friends. But don't forget about the Friend that loves you more than anything in the whole universe. He wants to talk to you too. He wants to be your listening ear. He wants to fix your problems for you and take care of you like His child that you are. 

Talk to me...but talk to Him even more...

Who Do You Think You Are...

If you have been reading my blogs for any amount of time you are well aware that I struggle with my weight. And although I have worked hard for the last few months, I still have a long ways to go in my journey to health and wellness. I'm aware of the struggles that still have to come. I'm down 52 pounds since September. It's a great accomplishment. I am so proud of the journey so far. 

There is a WeightWatchers community on Facebook. They post things, and I typically do not post responses. But they recently had a post on weight loss asking how far we had come in our journey. I don't like bragging about weight loss typically. I have family and a few close friends that I share my successes and failures with but other than that I'm pretty private. (other than this blog where I can pretend that no one will read it).  Years of failure have made it difficult to want to share things about my journey. Even with my current success, in the back of my head, I'm waiting to blow it. I'm waiting for the day that I throw in the towel and gain it all back and then some. I've lost 100 pounds before on WeightWatchers. Who's to say I won't do that again and then end up just as fat as I was before I started?

But, I digress...I wanted to share my journey and my success and what better way than to post it to people I don't know in a sea of hundreds of posts. It was like I was being nice and brave but not really. So I commented on the WeightWatchers post. And apparently attracted a troll in the process. In case you aren't aware, a troll is someone who has the main job of saying contradictory, mean, cruel comments on Facebook posts usually just to make someone feel badly. Yeah, this is a thing. And my comment hooked a troll. 

This troll wanted to know who I thought I was. Looking for praise for losing weight when it was my fault I got fat in the first place. Why did I deserve praise for letting myself go? Why was I any more special than someone who took care of themselves from the beginning and was always skinny. The insults went on and on. He put a lot of thought into his comment. And being the insecure person that I tend to be, it got me thinking. 

He's right. Why do I deserve praise for ruining my health and my body in the first place and then working hard to be healthy? He equated me to a drug addict who was in recovery. They didn't deserve any more praise or support than I did. I got myself into this mess, I certainly didn't need support or kind words to help me through my mess. 

The comments, even coming from a complete stranger, stung. But I could see that he was right. Why did I think I deserved accolades? Why should anyone be proud of me in this moment where all I could really say is "Yeah! I'm less fat today than I was yesterday." I did this to myself. Years of overeating with no exercise brought me to a point almost fifteen years ago where I weighed 361 pounds. When I first started working for the school district, that's what I tipped the scale at. I was humiliated. And that was the first time I lost over one hundred pounds. But I didn't keep it off. I didn't gain it all back, but gained enough that I saw the 300s again. 

I wanted to wallow in pity at his comments. I wanted to get angry and lay out all of my excuses for not losing weight. Thyroid problems. Losing my grandparents. Stress. PTSD. Anxiety. Flashbacks. The death of my husband. Raising kids. Single mom. Stressful job. I wanted to be angry and ask him back who he thought he was. But instead? I prayed and I asked Father God what He would want me to do in this situation. 

Instead of showing anger to this man, instead of letting him drive me to an evening with McDonalds and chocolate chip cookies, I prayed. And I gave it time. And I went for a run. I let myself feel every step of my run, my muscles working, sweat dripping down my face and mixing with tears. And I formulated an answer for him:

"You asked me who I think I am. I think I am a sinner. I think I am an imperfect person doing my very best to navigate this world. I am a mother and a widow. I am an obese human being. But I know for a fact that I am the daughter of a King who loves me and treasures me no matter what the number on the scale says. I am not looking for praise or support or pity. I take responsibility for my actions and I am working with my Heavenly Father to walk on the correct path to take care of myself spiritually, emotionally, and physically. I don't need your approval, because I am loved by my Father God." and then I turned off notifications for that post and left it alone. 

I know that I got myself into this mess. But as I've written before, I am always looking for the message in my mess. And this message is something I'm working on. I am just as my Father wants me to be. I'm not perfect. He knows that going in to each moment. But He still loves me with a love that is amazing! He loves everything about me. Whether I'm 361 or at my goal weight. My confirmation verse that was given to me all those years ago was John 3:16. It was chosen specifically for me. "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son..." That's a whole lot of love! It doesn't say He loves me only when I weigh less than 200 pounds. It doesn't say that He loves me only when I'm able to run two miles. There are NO conditions attached to His love. He loves me. And He is proud of the things I am doing to take care of myself. He sees my struggles and carries me in His arms, granting me peace and rest whenever I need it. He sees the hurt in my heart from years of turmoil and grief and He wants nothing more than to see me whole again. He sees the pain in my heart from comments such as the ones I received on my post and He wants to heal those hurts too. 

When I am feeling down about myself, when I cannot possibly see my worth, He is there cheering me on, whispering my name, reminding me that I am His princess...the daughter of a King! This world tries very hard to tear people down and when you get sucked into the worldly side of this life, it's easy to feel discouraged and terrible about yourself. But don't get sucked into that thinking. Remember that you are the sons and daughters of a King who loves you so very much, unconditionally. 

So I continue the struggle. I watch what I eat and follow my eating and exercise plan. And by the grace of God, I will continue on my journey to health and weight loss. Because even though I know that God loves me for me no matter what, I need to learn how to love me for me also. And that's what the most important part of this journey is - finding who I am behind all of the fat and pain and shame and finally learning to live the life I am supposed to. So I will plan out my meals, and run my runs, and stop occasionally to straighten my crown and remember the One who loves me more than anyone else. My Heavenly Father! 

For God so loved ME...