The Story

This past week, my husband and I were blessed to join our kids at church camp as staff members. Those of you that REALLY know me may have been surprised to hear that I VOLUNTEERED to do this. With the exception of my love of gardening, I am an indoor girl. I don't "rough it". I love my roomy shower and a big hot water tank. I adore my pillow-top mattress and sheets with the ridiculously high thread count. Air conditioning; sweet, glorious AC. Oh, and have I mentioned that I am a ginormous introvert? Being hot and sweaty all week, constantly surrounded by people, sleeping on a rock-hard bunk bed, and getting 3-4 minute-long lukewarm (but mostly cold) showers has NEVER appealed to me. Our kids, on the other hand, LOVE camp. People involved with camp over the years have told us how wonderful it is to have Pierce there, to watch him get so much out of it, and how sweet the other campers are with him. Last year, Reagan told us how she wished we could experience camp. She felt she just couldn't do it justice by simply telling us all of the things she loved about it, and how cool it was to see Pierce in a place he loved so much. This summer, Pierce would be a rising senior, and it would be his last year at camp. Tim and I made the decision that we would all attend camp as a family.

Our camp theme for the week was "The Story". We studied Jonah, Saul's conversion, and Peter and Cornelius. We focused on how we write our stories; how we have choices for our path; that no matter what choices we make or what happens in our story, God is working through it all. All week, some amazing people shared their stories. Well, I have an incredible story to share, but there are 2 different facets to it. The first is Pierce's involvement in this year's camp theme, and the second is how Pierce was welcomed into this camp experience years ago and watching him as a senior this year. Here's part one of my story.

This past school year, Pierce took an art class. This is a kid that HATED to draw or color when he was little. But in recent years, he's tried drawing some of his favorite VeggieTales characters. So I knew he had at least some artistic talent. Debbie Bagley was assigned as his Ed. Assistant for that class. It just so happens that Debbie attends Otter Creek Church of Christ with us. She emailed a few of his pictures to me, and I was pleasantly surprised at what I saw. Unbeknownst to us, in February, she told David Rubio, one of our ministers that works with our youth group, about Pierce's artistic talent and suggested that maybe one of his drawings could be used on an OCYG (Otter Creek Youth Group) tshirt. David thought that was a great idea and tried to figure out the best opportunity to use it. With about a month of school left, David came to watch Pierce compete in the Special Olympics. That day, he told Tim and I that he was planning to use Pierce's artwork for the camp tshirt this year, but told us this was top secret information. Honestly, I envisioned some simple little design that would look cute on a tshirt. Though Pierce had had a few art pieces displayed in the school art show and gotten the award for Most Improved Artist in his life skills program, I still couldn't imagine the depth of his talent. A month later, we were at the camp staff meeting. We were told that the theme had to do with the idea of story and how life was like a "choose your own adventure" book. Camp director Jamon Martin told us that the banner/tshirt art would be something amazing and very special. At this point, Tim and I had seen nothing. We were going to be just as surprised as everyone else at the final product. 

On June 26th, all four of us made the trek to camp. Tim and I were given pretty basic, white staff tshirts. We were told that name tags and schedules would be forthcoming, but we couldn't have them yet. Being new to this camp thing, I thought this meant we'd have to play some kind of mixer game to get our stuff, but the staff veterans seemed to be in the dark as well. The campers all arrived, and it was time for camp kickoff. This is where the banner containing the camp theme and artwork would be revealed. This is always a secret for the kids, but this was the first time that details had been on such a lockdown for most of the staff. Only a few people knew about Pierce's involvement, and 2 of those were me and Tim. All of the campers' parents are supposed to be gone by this time (except staff, of course). Debbie Bagley had come up to drop her daughter off, but she stuck around for the reveal because she, too, had a hint about what was coming. We sat with the staff at the back of the room, while our kids sat with their friends. After a couple of silly camp songs, David called Jamon and high school youth minister Nicole Hendley to the stage. In their hands, they held the rolled-up banner. David told the campers that this year's artwork was very special, because he had commissioned an award winning artist to draw it. He told the kids that even if they weren't familiar with the Nashville "art scene", they would recognize the name. He continued talking to draw out the suspense as long as he could, and the longer he talked, the more teary I became. Finally he asked for a drum roll, and Jamon and Nicole dropped the banner to much applause. It was a huge treasure map! Even from the back of the room, I could see it was very detailed and must've taken him weeks to complete. I was stunned! As the applause died down, David told the kids that the artist was in the room with them. He asked whomever drew the picture on the banner to please come to the stage. There was lots of chatter, but no one moved. He began to spell out "P-I-E-R...", and Pierce finally realized what was going on. Debbie hadn't told him the drawings were going on a shirt, because she didn't know for certain what David was going to do with them. He recognized the artwork on the banner as the pictures he'd drawn months ago. When Pierce got up and walked to the stage, the room leapt to their feet. Campers and staff were crying. Tim, Reagan, and I were an absolute wreck. He stood and looked at the banner for a second, then turned to look at the room full of people...all cheering for HIM. He was beaming with pride. Once the room finally calmed down, David asked him what he thought about the picture. Pierce said, "It's about The Story". He started to go sit down, but David put an arm around him and gave a summary of what the kids would be learning about this week. He then acknowledged that Pierce's whole family would be at camp for the week, and he called the rest of us up. As soon as she saw me, Reagan asked if I'd known about this. I nodded, and she said, "You knew and didn't tell me?!" I said that I'd wanted her to be surprised along with all of the other campers. Pictures were made of all 4 of us with our puffy eyes and tear-streaked faces, standing in front of the banner. Of course, Pierce didn't understand why the rest of us were so emotional. He was just grinning from ear to ear.

Later that day, I got my tshirt, name tag, and schedule, and finally got to focus a little better on all of the detail. The treasure map was on the back of the tshirt, and the full map was on the cover of the schedule book. Parts of the map were scattered throughout the book and on the back cover. There was also an island from the drawing on everyone's name tag. I was in awe. PIERCE did THIS?!

At dinner that night, I was flooded with questions. I told people that beyond knowing Pierce was involved, I was as clueless about the details as they were. Pierce's art teacher, Emily Martinez, also attends Otter Creek, and she was there for the reveal as well. We got to chat for just a bit, and she told me that Debbie worked with Pierce for about 30 minutes a day, everyday, on these drawings, and that Debbie was the one that made the suggestion to David that Pierce's artwork could be used for something great. Pierce was told that they wanted a treasure map, and he was shown lots of pictures that would work. He chose from those what he wanted to draw, and they were able to use a few pictures he'd already drawn earlier in the school year. Emily was the one that compiled them all together for the finished product. I didn't get to talk to Debbie before she left, but once I got home, I emailed her. She shared a few more details. She began the school year modifying his art assignments but quickly saw potential in Pierce. When he finished an assignment early one day, she gave him a step-by-step drawing book and was amazed at the finished product. She began challenging him with harder pictures, and he did a fabulous job with them. Earlier this year, the students were taught how to draw using a grid technique. By putting a picture on a grid, Pierce could copy the picture nearly perfectly onto his own blank grid. This was the method he used to draw all of the pictures for the banner. Debbie says, "Pierce worked so so hard. I would say, can you draw another picture, he would always respond 'yes!'" ...he really surprised me too with his artwork. This project forced us to push his limits. Trying to find things he could draw, that high schoolers would want to wear, forced him to have to try harder things. I wasn't sure he could do the dragon, and when he easily did, I wasn't sure about the alligator or even the treasure chest. But he worked so hard and did so well!"

It was a super emotional week, seeing Pierce's drawings all over camp, hearing how moved and impressed people have been. For the first couple of nights, the banner was used as an actual treasure map for the nightly skits in worship. The last couple of nights, it hung over the stage while kids raised their hands in praise and worship. Some have said this is the most special theme reveal and artwork the camp has ever seen. There were 13 baptisms at camp, and some of these kids want Pierce's artwork as a memento of their "birthday". On the final day, the banner was laid out on 2 big tables, and campers and staff signed their names in Sharpie, following a long-standing camp tradition. The island that contains Pierce's signature ("Mouse Island") was reserved just for his parents and sister to sign. When Pierce got home Friday, he dug his camp shirt out of his trunk and put it on. He stuck out his chest and ran over to me. I said, "You drew the picture on the back." He spun around and tried to look at it. I asked him if he was proud of himself. He grinned and answered, "Yeah", then went on his merry way. I don't think he has any idea what a big deal this is to me and everyone who knows and loves him. This kid that just couldn't figure out how to tap into his creative side when he was little, has discovered a skill that I could never have imagined he had within him. This child that's known by all of the youth group as a quirky teen that can make you laugh with Pixar movie quotes, has created something so special that these teenagers were moved to tears. Will he ever fathom the enormity of this moment? Teens and adults are in awe, but Pierce?...he just knows he had a great week at camp and got a pretty cool t-shirt.

Faking It

On March 6th, I auditioned for an annual production called Listen To Your Mother. The cast reads essays they have written about motherhood. These can be aspects of being a mom, having a mom, or having/being a mother figure. I went to last year's show with a friend that has read my blog and knows a couple of the producers. I didn't think I could possibly write anything remotely as good as what I heard, but my friend encouraged me to audition anyway. There were about 90 people vying for a dozen slots, so I knew my chances were slim going in. Still, I summoned up some courage and gave it a go. The producers could see right away that I was a nervous wreck, but they were not at all intimidating and did their best to put me at ease. I choked up a couple of times, but I managed to get through the piece without totally losing my composure. Yesterday morning, I awoke to find an email in my inbox informing me that my piece was not selected for the show. A few people knew I was auditioning and wanted to read what I wrote, so I'm sharing it on my blog. I'm grateful to Listen To Your Mother for encouraging people (especially women, but not limited to) to tell their stories. After all, we ALL have a mother-story of some sort; even if you grew up without a mom or have memories of a difficult childhood, it's your story and it should be told. Will I audition for next year's show? I don't know. I'm learning that as long as I'm in a chorus that competes every April AND I work in a garden center, I should limit the activities on my Spring calendar to try and preserve some sanity (which is why I'm not totally disappointed that I didn't get in. It's one less thing on my to-do list.) Why did I audition in the first place, if I'm so busy right now? LTYM was another opportunity to step out of my comfort zone and do something challenging and scary. It's good to stretch yourself. So, without further ado, here is my audition piece. BTW, I say Pierce is 18, because if I'd made it into the show, he would be by then. We still have a few more weeks of 17.

My son loves Legos, Pixar movies, and Minions. His favorite book is The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and he has heard or read it so many times, he can recite it from memory. At the dinner table, he sits on his haunches with his knees tucked under his chin. He runs everywhere he goes. He burps loudly in public, and we have to remind him to use his manners. When friends or family come to visit, he proudly shows off his latest artwork or Lego creation. He learned a joke this summer that he delighted in repeating: What is the pirate's favorite letter of the alphabet?...ARRRRRRRR. He LOVES to sing, especially songs from VeggieTales videos. He plays them on the computer and sings "Oh wheeeeeeeere is my hairbrush?" as loud as he can.

He sounds like a typical little boy...only he's not. My son is 6 feet tall, 18 years old, and autistic. He is a junior in high school. But while all of his friends are visiting college campuses with their parents, we must contemplate a different future. Instead of the "college track", we are on the "survival" track. He attends a high school with a fantastic life skills program. Oh we pretended for several years that he would obtain a college education. But one day as a 12-year-old, his usual habit of riding laps around the house on his bike turned into an adventure when he drove away and disappeared. This prompted us to call 911 and led to a team of police stopping 5 lanes of northbound traffic on interstate 65 where they finally found him, 5 miles from our house, riding frantically beside the concrete barrier. It was at that point we realized that working so hard to water down facts about ancient Mesopotamian culture in a way he could understand was a waste of energy, if he couldn’t grasp the concept of how dangerous it was to cruise down the interstate among traffic going 70 miles a hour.

So here we are at 18. I get lots of questions. "Will he graduate with his class? Will he go to college? Will he get a job? What kind of job does he want to pursue? Will he live at home with you, or do you think he can have his own place?" Fortunately, he qualifies for services through the school system until he's 22-years-old.

Through all of his challenges, he's made some wonderful accomplishments. When I share these achievements with friends and family over social media, I get high praise: "You're such a great mom!" "You and your husband are wonderful parents!" I even get the “God knew just what he was doing by giving YOU a kid as special as your son.” But I'm going to let you in on a secret. I am just making this up as I go. The honest answer to most of those questions I've been getting is "I don't have a clue what's next." People have asked me if there are any group homes available for him locally. I don't know. I haven't even looked. Last year, there was a special on Dateline about parents caring for their adult autistic children. I got reminders from friends; people posted about it on my Facebook page. It is on our DVR at home, unwatched. I just can't go there. Not yet. My façade shows a mom who's got it all together, but inside, I know I'm faking it. I don't like to be less than genuine by sharing only the good stuff on social media, but I do leave out the ugly parts of the story. I don't tell you about those Saturdays when he's been sitting on the computer a couple of hours singing and repeating the same line of dialogue over and over and OVER again until I'm ready to throw myself from the second story window. I don’t talk about how jealous I am of his friends' parents as they watch their kids drive wherever they want and help them pick out a college. Their sons will likely get married and have kids of their own, while my son is stuck in eternal childhood. 

Still, even though I've been winging it, I have a deep-seated faith that we will make it through this next phase of my son’s life without too many bumps or bruises. After all, he’s made it to adulthood without me ruining him. I tend to believe he thrives in spite of me, not because of me. Maybe that's why I'm not overly concerned with mapping out right now the future that will happen 4 years from now, when his time in public education is over. God knows autism is constantly throwing curve-balls, so even the best laid plans fall to pieces sometimes. Parents of typical children may see me and other parents of special needs kids as these amazing, strong people. But we’re just doing what most parents in our shoes would do: We carry on, and tackle whatever life throws at us to the best of our ability. I’ve always wanted to be a mom, and even though the challenges of raising an autistic child was not in the brochure, bailing when parenting gets too hard for any mere mortal was NEVER an option.  So I’m strapping in for the dark tunnel full of unknowns on this windy road we're traveling and trusting we’ll come out unscathed on the other side.

Thank You For Being A Friend

I joined Facebook seven years ago. It seemed like a fun community, an easy way to reconnect with old high school friends, and a way to stay in touch with family far away. It has brought me much joy and laughter over the years. I love seeing pictures: of your children, places you've been, life events. I enjoy hearing about your blessings, your funny life stories. I REALLY love the funny memes and videos, especially those involving cats. How can cats be so annoying and yet so freakin hilarious? I miss the days of flair. Anyone remember that? On your profile was a virtual bulletin board where you could post little pictures of all the stuff that made you happy: coffee, movie/book/tv quotes, animal pictures, favorite sayings, scriptures, etc.. I have opined about Facebook before, and like I've said, when Facebook is good, it is really good...but when it's not, it is soul crushing.

I have contemplated giving it up before. There have been at least 2 occasions when I've been misinterpreted and couldn't handle the criticism, so I walked away for a short time, but my Facebook obsession always brought me back. I've watched some of you give up Facebook for Lent and thought, "I should do that", but then I always find some reason to justify why I can't. The benefits and joy I get from Facebook have (until now) seemed to outweigh all of its annoyances. Truthfully, with the app on my phone and always accessible, I have a rather serious addiction to knowing what is going on in your lives at all times, afraid I might miss something important. The hours I've wasted scrolling through Facebook is OBSCENE. 

Lately, the joy has begun to fade. Pictures of children and anecdotes about your lives have been overshadowed by political memes. Somewhere along the line, we decided that Facebook was a good place to rant about all that is wrong with government, religion, and society, instead of being a light of hope amongst all of this darkness. I say "we", because try as I might to stay positive, I'm guilty of saying and sharing things that have been quite negative, and making statements about my political beliefs. These days, every time I get on Facebook, I die just a little bit inside. Oh, I can still find pictures of children and cat videos, but I have to dig through all of the political posts to find them. Lately, I've begun to feel that it's not worth the search. Facebook just isn't much fun anymore. I've tried to "unfollow" those that are so full of negativity, but it only makes things marginally better...and the presidential election is still a year away. Look, you have a right to say whatever you want to say. But I don't want to know who you're voting for and why you think their opposing political party (and anyone who supports them) is a bunch of morons. I don't want to know how distraught you are about the Supreme Court's ruling on marriage. I don't want to know how appalled you are by the latest celebrity scandal. TELL ME SOMETHING GOOD. Tell me who or what inspires you. Tell me about something beautiful you've seen or heard. Tell me something incredible that's happened to you lately. Give me something to cling to when I feel those dark days creeping in on me. Don't feed me doom and gloom. Sometimes as I scroll through Facebook, the Hee Haw skit and song "Gloom, despair, and agony on me" pops into my head. Stop sucking the joy out of this community. And I realize that so very few people can be upbeat and positive ALL of the time (certainly not me); that's not what I'm seeking. I speak sarcasm fluently. It's how I try to get a laugh, but most times, it comes across as negative and ungrateful. Life happens; we get knocked down and feel deserving of a pity party. But maybe instead of finding someone/thing to blame for our struggles, we could instead ask people to help us back up and then do the next right thing. Prayer is a necessary element of community with one another. We need to edify and encourage each other more, instead of tearing each other down. Don't drag others into your pit of despair. We live in a world full of people, living day to day, desperate for a reason to keep going, needing hope and light. On this website where they come to take a break from life for a while, can we stop telling them that the sky is falling and confirming their belief that humanity is lost? Can't we leave all of the horrible in this world to the 24/7 fear-mongering news networks and just keep Facebook as a fun space?

I have seen family and friends rip each other to shreds over disagreements that began on Facebook. Our need to be right, to be liked, and to be heard has overshadowed our need for relationship and community. But trying to be right all of the time is EXHAUSTING. So until a social media outlet comes along that consists of nothing but joy and hope and LOVE, I'm out. At least for 2016. That goes for Twitter as well. Maybe, with all of the time I'm saving by staying off of Facebook, I will blog more. If you're really interested in what I have to say, you'll still be able to know about all of the crazy stuff in my brain. I will keep posting on Instagram. It hasn't been taken over by the Debbie Downers and Negative Nellys YET. So far, it's still mostly babies, puppies, sunsets, and food pictures over there. If you're on Instagram, follow me at Creativemelmac, and let me know your account name. I'm not deleting my Facebook account. My chorus has a private group page where we post things that are inspirational and uplifting...and nerdy musical stuff that no one else thinks is funny. I may still get tagged in pictures, so you'll be able to see those. I will miss all of your funny posts; some of you are pretty stinkin' hilarious. To those of you that have told me over the years that you think my posts are funny and something you look forward to seeing...bless your little hearts. And thank you. Many of you will tell me that I should stick around and keep posting, that I shouldn't let all the negative people of Facebook win. You're sweet, but no. I'm tired of trying to make a difference here. I am forever grateful for all of my prayer warriors that have gotten my family through numerous health crises and encouraged us when my sister passed away last year. To my friends: if you want to stay in touch, message me...especially if you have something funny you think I should see. Or here's an idea: let's interact face to face. Have coffee. Meet for lunch. To all of my family: surely we can figure out another way to stay connected. Maybe we need a private FB page (no negativity allowed!).

The world needs more people professing what they are for instead of yelling about what they are against. If you're as frustrated as I am, why don't we jump ship together? We could start a whole new online community that doesn't tolerate the crap you can easily get from news websites. Until then, be excellent to each other. Now to do all of those things I could've been doing during the hours I've wasted on Facebook...

A Change Is Gonna Come (Part 2)

It's been 8 months since I began this journey. I have lost 23 pounds. And it has taken me all 8 months to lose them. I would get so discouraged in the beginning. Working out 4 times a week and eating better, only to GAIN 2 pounds at the end of the week. I'm now about 5 pounds from my goal weight, but I'm totally happy right here. I'm looking better than I have since 1998 B.C. (Before Children). But honestly, the best part about this whole process is how I feel both physically and emotionally. I have so much more energy! I used to wake up, and my first thought was, "How soon can I get a nap today?" On Wednesday, I napped for the first time in weeks, and it was only for 30 minutes, as opposed to the 2-hour napfests I used to have on a regular basis. Part of this is from weight loss, part of this is from my job at Bates Nursery. This job has given me a purpose that I didn't have before (and a reason to get up off of the couch and DO SOMETHING), and it's helped to get me in better shape by unloading flat after flat after FLAT of flowers and plants. Aside from the increase in energy and strength, losing the weight has given me confidence. Just as my local chorus and church praise team have helped me to find the courage to put my vocal talent to use, b.fab has helped me "bring sexy back". I no longer feel the need to hide my body in baggy clothes, or stand still when everyone else in the room is dancing (for fear of looking like Elaine from Seinfeld dancing at her office party). It's been a long time since I've felt sexy. I still have moments of feeling like a dork in .funk class (I can't body roll to save my life, but I can grapevine like nobody's business), but for the most part, I have lost a lot of my inhibitions, and I'm willing to let loose, no matter how goofy I feel sometimes. A couple of months ago, I started leading our physical warm-ups at chorus rehearsals about once every 6 weeks or so. I NEVER would've volunteered to do this a few years ago! 

So this brings me to the whole body shaming issue. I'm 5'2", and I was 143 pounds back in January. Putting these numbers into a BMI calculator had me categorized as overweight. Yet, if I said anything about needing to lose a few pounds, people would gasp in horror. "Oh stop it, you don't need to lose anything. Whatever." Maybe I hid it well, maybe people were just trying to be polite, but I was overweight. Once I started losing the weight, I started getting comments like, "OK, you can stop now." Or, "Are you sure you're remembering to eat?" When I looked up my BMI a few days ago, I discovered that a normal range for someone of my height is 101-136 pounds. I am in the middle of this range, nowhere near in danger of becoming emaciated. I assure you, folks, I do not have a weight loss obsession, or an eating disorder. I don't need your pity or concern if I choose to order a salad for dinner. Because I'm working so hard, and a lot of people know I'm working hard, I mostly don't mind hearing, "Gah! You're so skinny!" But part of me goes back to my high school days when I WAS super skinny, and I was CONSTANTLY getting teased about my weight. I HATED being so skinny. Telling me I should just eat some donuts or something was not at all helpful. Believe me, I was eating All. The. Time. Unless you are a doctor or an internet troll, the vast majority of us wouldn't dream of telling someone they should skip that pizza for dinner or they could stand to lose a few pounds. Why do we think it's ok to tell someone "You're so skinny! Eat a sandwich or something!" Can't we just be cheerleaders? Do we HAVE to give commentary on everyone's size? If you notice someone has lost weight, maybe just tell them how fabulous you think they look. For the record, I am SO grateful for all of the "Atta girl!!" comments I've gotten from friends and family. Your encouragement has given me a huge boost in confidence. 

I've given praise to the people of B.Fab.Fitness for encouraging me along the way, but let me take a minute to give some props to my biggest cheerleader. Tim has given me all the support I needed. He never tried to sabotage my efforts. At times when my willpower just wasn't strong enough during a 24 Day Challenge and I was ready to drive to Sonic, he would encourage me to stick to my goal, instead of saying, "It's just a milkshake! You can work it off later!" Ladies, let me tell you something about this man. Tim is the same person today that I fell in love with 24 years ago, and that's a person that rarely if ever gives commentary on physical appearance. Whether it's watching TV or movies together or out together on a date, I never hear about how beautiful other women are, unless I'M the one to bring it up. Men, let me tell you why that is SO important: When Tim tells me how beautiful he thinks I am, I don't feel the need to doubt it or compare myself to some supermodel he's always going on and on about. Our young girls will never believe us when we tell them that they're beautiful just the way they are, if we're constantly critiquing the physical appearance of other women. Trust me on this. I wanted to get in better shape for ME, not because I thought that's what my husband would want. He thought I was sexy last year, and he thinks I'm sexy now (just maybe a little more so). But mostly what makes me a little more sexy to him today is the confidence I've gained in the last several months. Being comfortable in your own skin, THAT is sexy. After decades of struggling with my self confidence, I think I'm finally turning a corner. 

A Change Is Gonna Come (Part 1)

Since you're all following me on Facebook, you are well aware that I've been on a rather important quest this year. Over the last 20 years, I've slowly gained pounds here and there. For a long time, I did little more than bitch about it. I'd toyed with the idea of doing something, but a lackadaisical commitment to walking and looking up healthy recipes on Pinterest weren't doing the trick. I felt tired all the time, constantly napping. I hated the way I looked. I was tired of having to shop for bigger sizes. My confidence was in the toilet, despite having a husband that never fails to tell me how sexy he thinks I am. And while I'd felt all of these things for years, something finally clicked for me. I turned 40. And I started to realize that if I didn't get serious now, my body would only continue to go downhill from here. If my current state was as good as it gets, that was not good enough for me. And God knows I had genetics working against me. With a history of heart disease and diabetes in my family, I needed to nip this in the bud like, yesterday. So many people have asked me what I'm doing and how I've been successful, that I thought I'd share some of the details of my journey. I also have thoughts to share about how this has affected me emotionally and physically, comments I'm getting these days, and body shaming. But that will come in another post, because y'all don't want to read a novel in one sitting, am I right?!

Exercise:

I'm a cheapskate. I figured I'd just walk around my neighborhood for free or just look up some exercises on Pinterest that I could do at home. But my husband knows me too well, maybe because he struggles with this, too. I am not self-motivated in this area. Tim had been going to a Crossfit gym for well over a year. By actually going somewhere and getting to know the people there, he is held accountable and encouraged. And having shelled out some money, meant he was likely to follow through and show up. Putting some skin in the game, if you will. (Man, I hate this analogy. Any sports related analogy, actually. It just seemed to fit, though.) He and one of my best friends who's also a Crossfitter had told me about some of the workouts, and exercising nearly to the point of vomiting. That did not at all sound enticing to me. I knew I'd need to find something effective, but that I'd like enough to keep at it. So, as one does, I polled my friends on Facebook: Where do you work out? I was given a few different suggestions, but the one that sounded the most interesting to me was a Zumba-esque class through B.Fab.Fitness. There are 2 styles of classes offered there: The .body class is more toning and sculpting, while the .funk class is all high energy hip-hop-style dancing. 

I went to my first .body class on January 6th. In a class full of toned, spandex-clad women, I was by far the frumpiest in my large t-shirt and yoga pants. But the instructors were welcoming and encouraging, telling me to take it easy as a beginner and not try too hard to keep up with everyone else's pace. I set up my mat at the back of the room. During the opening warm-up of plank exercises that lasted about 3 minutes, I could hold a plank for all of 10 seconds before dropping to my mat. Then during the cardio warm-up, I was good for about 15 seconds of jumping jacks. I was more out-of-shape than I thought! It was a tough class, but I made it through. Even though it was a bigger challenge than I anticipated, I knew it would help me achieve the results I wanted. The next day, I went to my first .funk class. Talk about a fish out of water! I went to the back of the room, almost hugging the wall, and tried to stay out of everyone's way. Growing up in a culture of "thou shalt not dance" (where my CofC girls at?!), I am FAR from a natural at this stuff. I was a total spaz, and the wall of mirrors confirmed that fact. BUT, that was the most fun workout I have EVER done! I was hooked! 

It was still winter, and I wasn't needed at the garden center yet, so I was able to attend classes 4 days a week. After 6 weeks, I could stay in a plank for about 30 seconds in .body class, before feeling the need to reset for a few seconds and go again. I could make it through all of the jumping jacks, and just about all of the exercises thrown at me (with some modifications for my stupid, old back). My arms were getting stronger and slimmer, and my gut was getting a little smaller. In .funk class, I started to get more comfortable with the routines with some repetition. I worked my way off of the back row to about the middle of the room. And while the mirrors made me uncomfortable to begin with, I began to appreciate being able to see whether or not I was correctly executing the dance moves. 

Food:

My biggest weakness is bread and sweets. I can NOT tell you how very jealous I am of people that say, "I just don't care for sweets really". Tim had been trying to eat a low or no-carb diet for months, but I'd dug in my heels, refusing to give up my beloved bread. But I realized bread and sugar were my biggest vices, so I'd have to cut back if I really wanted to shed some weight. I LOVE my coffee, but only with copious amounts of sugar ("I like my sugar with coffee and cream" -Beastie Boys). I refer to this as my "sugar-shock coffee". I used a flavored creamer AND I added in more sugar. I decided to use just my flavored creamer (baby steps, people) and cut out the extra sugar. I cut out the nighttime snacking as well, or if I really needed something, I tried low-calorie naturally sweetened popcorn, or something with protein, like a spoonful of peanut butter. Poor kids; no more Oreos in the house. And before they even went on sale, I announced that there would be NO GIRL SCOUT COOKIES this year, to much weeping and gnashing of teeth (Reagan decided to buy a box with her own money and keep them in her room). For breakfast, I ate protein bars, for lunch, humus or salads. I cut down on pasta and other starchy foods at dinner. Tim and I ate more meat and veggies. The kids refused to get on this game plan, so most nights, they had to fend for themselves. I started buying more organic, less processed foods. In April, one of the .body class instructors encouraged me to try a 24 Day Challenge through Advocare. It's 24 days of eating healthy and taking supplements. I was introduced to Spark: a drink fortified with vitamins that is sugar-free and has CAFFEINE. I have replaced my sweetened coffee with this. I now treat myself to coffee only on Saturdays. For part of the challenge, you are given breakfast shakes with lots of vitamins and protein. I really like the chocolate mocha ones! I do usually feel hungry again mid-morning, so I drink an 8oz V-8 Fusion. I have done 2 of these challenges now. I love how they get me on track when I fall back into unhealthy eating habits. I'm sure I'll need another one after all of those holiday indulgences I won't be able to resist (pumpkin spiced everything!!!). I'm not a health-food Nazi. I will occasionally buy a pack of Oreos, order pizza, drink wine, eat/drink those things that are SO not healthy. I just do it in moderation now. And I haven't totally broken my addiction to sugar, but I am more picky. I won't eat the store-bought pound cake in the break room just because. If I'm going to have something sweet, I'm going to have something I really enjoy.

I'll let you know how this all worked out in my next post. 

Y'all Gon Make Me Loose My Mind

Ah, Facebook. Most days, I love it. It brings me endless hours of joy, especially on those days that my newsfeed is filled with pictures of my friends' and family's kids or grandkids, hilarious internet memes, friends' funny anecdotes, and cat videos. Mercy, there's nothing like a good video montage of cats being their spastic, silly selves to cheer me up when I'm feeling down. I love connecting with people I haven't seen in years, exchanging sarcastic comments, sharing feel-good stories and videos about our fellow man. When Facebook is good, it's really good.

But then there are days like today that make me want to tear my hair out. Those days when I see story after story of all that's wrong with the world today, how quickly we are going to Hell in a handbasket, how right I am and how VERY wrong you are. Those days when anything you say can and will be misinterpreted (because, dang it, sarcasm just doesn't read in text sometimes). Those days filled with posts about all the horrible things that can happen to you or your kids if you do things like share pictures or vacation plans on Facebook ( some stranger might plot to kidnap that cute kid of yours after seeing their picture, or might plot a break-in if they know you're out of town), try to help some stranger in a parking lot (they could spray you with "perfume" that makes you pass out so they can abduct you), send your kid to a sleepover (what if there are pedophiles in the house?!). Those days when the jokes are both racist (usually taking shots at our President) and sexist. 

Facebook has broken my heart, mind, and soul more times than I can count, and I have left it before, swearing I am DONE and never coming back. But I always return, optimistic that I can avoid the negativity and drama by only following those I know won't let me down. But today, I'm revisiting the prospect of ditching this place for good. What has me ready to jump ship right now? I don't think a lot of you really want to hear it. But, I'm going there anyway. 

I have identified as a republican for most of my life. Most of my friends and family are republicans. But the older I've gotten, the more I've begun to swing to the middle. In fact, I've been feeling more and more like a democrat lately. Not completely, but I do know that I no longer want to be associated with the behavior of a lot of conservatives. I say all that to preface my thinking here. Unless you live under a rock, you know that Bruce Jenner had a sex change operation, and she now identifies as Caitlyn. Furthermore, Caitlyn will be given the Arther Ashe award at the ESPYS.  I don't watch the news, I don't read celebrity magazines. I only know about it because my friends on Facebook are LOOSING THEIR MINDS over this. Y'all, I honestly don't care that Caitlyn was once a man. And I'm not upset that she will be given an award for her courage. Because to endure all of the crap she's endured over the course of her life takes more courage than I could muster, let me tell ya. And by the way, she did not beat out Noah Galloway for the award, so kindly refrain from circulating that rumor, please. What she does with her own body is none of my business and doesn't affect me in the least.

One of the biggest things that has me scratching my head is the way I've seen Facebook friends react to this story as opposed to the scandal about the Duggar family a couple weeks ago. I actually saw stories being posted and shared that basically said, "Yeah, that was a bad thing that Josh Duggar did, but look at how that sweet Christian family is being persecuted by the liberal media!" This week, the same FB friends that shared that Matt Walsh story making excuses for Josh Duggar are sharing stories about what an "abomination" Caitlyn Jenner is. You know, I just don't think I want to live in a world that defends pedophiles because they're Christians but lambasts a law abiding citizen because of their decision to change their sexual identity. Am I the only one that sees this as wacky?! As I've said before, the world doesn't want or need to hear us Christians telling everyone how right we are and how wrong everyone else is. Go ahead and disapprove of the decision Caitlyn Jenner made. QUIETLY, in your own home. Pray for her soul (pray for mine too, while you're at it; I am a sinner, after all.) But in public, can we be decent human beings? Can we stop sharing stories by Matt Walsh, who seems to think he's more righteous than just about anyone he ever writes about (except for the Duggars)?

I understand you, friends, REALLY, I do. I was once just like you. I thought it was my mission in life to inform everyone of their wrongs, telling the world how right us Christians are. Playing into the fear-mongering by telling people all the things that could go wrong in any given scenario. But you know what's more effective that yelling at people that we are the light of Christ? Actually BEING the light of Christ. Just sharing the love and beauty within us. Life is short, y'all. And I can't bear this burden of being holier-than-thou. With all the crap in this world, I'm just gonna share my heart, my garden pictures, my witty sarcasm (at least it's witty in MY head), and, of course, funny cat videos. I realize I'm going to lose a few FB friends after this. Some of y'all might want to engage in a political debate over this post. I'm telling you now that I won't bite. This is the end of my commentary. I don't care to discuss it further in comments. I'll leave you with this. I thought about Tyler Perry last night. His best known character is Madea, achieved by dressing in drag. Christians LOVE his movies and just eat Madea up! After their reaction to the Bruce Jenner story, I wonder how most Christians would react if Tyler announced tomorrow that he wants to become Madea permanently with a sex change operation. It's all good if we're just pretending, but don't go changing anything permanently, right? Hmmm...

Lay Down Your Life: Vespers Homily #2

The last homily I gave came rather easily to me. I found a connection in the scriptures with my passion for gardening, so it kind of wrote itself. This week, however, I’ve poured over the scriptures trying to find something that spoke to me. I mean, I could easily write about the 23rd Psalm, but couldn’t we all? Do you really want to hear yet another lesson on one of the most popular texts in the bible? So, I kept reading and rereading the scriptures for this week until I found a passage to focus on. I wanted to explore 1 John 3:16-18. It says:

  16 This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. 17 If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? 18 Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth. 

What exactly does it mean to lay down your life for a brother or sister? Growing up, I thought this passage was quite literal, (which is what happens when we take scripture out of context, BTW); that we should be willing to die for another person, just the way Christ did for all of us. But how many opportunities are us civilians going to have to throw ourselves on a grenade in order to save someone’s life? If we keep reading, we see John’s meaning. We are to lay down our resources for brothers or sisters in need. We are to be the hands and feet of Jesus  and show how much we love rather than simply saying “Jesus loves you!”. And just who are our brothers and sisters? Are they the people within the walls of this church building? Only those “worthy” of Christian love and help?

Reading this passage made me think of 1 Corinthians 13:1- “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal." Did you know that Christians have a bad reputation as being some of the worst tippers in restaurants? Servers dread the Sunday lunch crowd because, not only are we horribly demanding customers, we refuse to tip well, or even worse, “tip” with church tracts or notes about not giving their server a bigger percentage than we give God every week. The media portrays us as bigots because of those Christians that refuse service to a group of people that they have judged sinful.  These are embarrassing times to be a Christian. Our actions are speaking louder than our words, and people are not fooled. Actions like the ones I just mentioned are devoid of the love of God. It’s become so cliche, the saying “What Would Jesus Do?” But what WOULD He do in those situations? I read an article about the religious freedom debate that I loved. The author said that, based on the passage in Matthew 5, not only would Jesus bake a wedding cake for a gay person, He’d bake them two. I mean, this is a man who ate with prostitutes! Hung out with lepers! No one was too low or unworthy of Jesus' compassion. When He fed the 5000, He didn't ask them why they hadn't thought to come prepared so that their children wouldn't go hungry. He saw a need and he responded with compassion. And while he did say, "Go and sin no more", He didn't make accepting Him as their savior a condition of His healing.

So when I think about how someone has “laid down their life” for me, I have a really hard time coming up with an example. But when I look at verse 18 and think about when people have loved me with actions and in truth, it’s a little easier. 

The most recent story I can think of happened last summer. I was in South Carolina helping my parents clean out my sister’s apartment in the days immediately after she passed away. We needed some groceries for dinner, so we went to Trader Joe's. I decided to pick up a few bottles of cheap wine, since I never get the opportunity at the Trader Joe’s in TN. If you’ve ever shopped there, you know the cashiers are quite friendly, so as they usually do, the cashier was chatting me up. She checked my license and saw I was from TN. She asked what I was in town for, probably expecting something like a wedding or some fun family affair, and I told her that my sister had passed away the previous weekend. After I checked out, she asked me to wait a minute. She ran over to the floral department and picked out a bouquet. She said, “You’re probably overwhelmed with flowers, but you can never have too many.” I was so touched and nearly speechless that I could only say "Thank you".

My favorite examples of love through action involve my son, Pierce. He’s gotten some stares and very uncompassionate remarks because of his autism, but the kindness of strangers gives me hope for the future. Once when Pierce was 4 or 5 years old, we were in Family Christian Bookstore. He latched on to a VeggieTales book, a big one, I think it was an encyclopedia of some sort. When I told him it was time to leave and I tried to get him to put the book back, he had a Defcon 4 meltdown, right in the middle of the store. As hard as it is to reason with a normal 4-5-year-old, it’s darn near impossible to reason with an autistic child. I tried to be the good mom and resist the urge to cave to his tantruming. Customers were beginning to stare, but a store employee walked over and asked if there was anything he could do to help. I explained the situation, and he told me to take the book up to the counter. He wanted to give it to Pierce. My pride wouldn’t let him, though, and I ultimately ended up buying the book myself.

Another great example involving Pierce took place about 5 years ago. One day, the kids and I decided to take in "Horton Hears A Who", the movie for that week of the free summer movie series at Opry Mills. We got there early so that we could get seats. As usual, when something is free, the participants are plenty. They had not opened the doors to the theater yet, so there was a line along the wall. We ended up right in front of the entrance/exit to the mall. A day care group was a few feet ahead of us. One of the kids began to wail. If you've spent any time around Pierce, you know that the sound of a crying child really distresses him. Pierce began to cry and threw himself to the ground. I wrestled him back up (which was not an easy task as he was 12 and eye-to-eye with me) and I offered him his earplugs. This worked for a few seconds, but the child continued to wail. When Pierce is in a stressful situation and is faced with the option of "fight or flight" he will ALWAYS choose "flight". He realized, at about the same time I did, that we were right at the automatic doors. He decided to make a run for the parking lot. I grabbed the back of his shirt in an attempt to stop him, and this threw him off-balance. He crashed into a mom behind me who was holding her small child. I was mortified! I apologized and braced myself for the condemning glare and stinging criticism that I knew was coming. Instead, she asked, with genuine concern, "Is he okay?". I explained that Pierce is autistic and the noise was beginning to upset him. This mom says to me, "If you need to take him outside for a few minutes, I wouldn't mind holding your place in line." I graciously accepted her help. We stepped outside and began debating whether to stay or go. Pierce kept chanting "go home", but when I asked if he wanted to see the movie, he said "yes". Reagan clearly wanted to stay for the movie, but she understood how upset Pierce was. I offered to rent the movie if we had to leave, and she thought that was a great idea. I saw through the doors that the line was moving. Pierce was willing to try again, so we ran back inside. I looked for the mom holding our place in line, and saw about 4 people waving frantically to us. Two people in front of her, and one behind her were all looking for us and waving! This mom had told everyone around her what was going on, and that they should be looking out for us. They were nearly at the entrance to the theater. One mom said as we ran up, "We were afraid you wouldn't make it back in time!" We got to see the movie, and Pierce held up pretty well.

I didn’t know any of the people in the stories I just told you. Maybe they’re Christians, maybe not. But those actions spoke to me far more loudly than any sermon, blog post, book, or conversation about “Love thy neighbor”. And it’s made me realize that I’m not doing enough to show God’s love. To lay down my life for my fellow man, whether he is a Christian or an atheist. It’s not my place to judge who is worthy of my compassion. Not one of the people in those situations felt the need to ask me if I’d found Jesus before, during, or after they carried out their random acts of kindness towards me. I love the lyrics of the Brandon Heath song, Give Me Your Eyes. I’ll conclude with the chorus of that song as my prayer tonight:

Give me Your eyes for just one second

Give me Your eyes so I can see

Everything that I keep missing

Give me Your love for humanity

Give me Your arms for the broken-hearted

The ones that are far beyond my reach

Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten

Give me Your eyes so I can see