Following Through

  "Patience can persuade a prince, and soft speech can break bones." Proverbs 25:15

  I sent a letter to the hospital. There's been no response but the patient advocacy office could be busy. They might need to do their own investigation while being concerned with the potential of wrong doing by one of their doctors. I tried to not blame the doctor or the hospital, that's not why I wrote them. It was to simply question why there was a lack of any sort of anesthetic for the removal of a large polyp.

  Like always, the ole second guessing part of me ends up running full tilt. Should I have said anything? Have I offended anyone? What if the doctor wasn't prepared to find what he did? 

  What I find most interesting is these questions are part of an age old understanding that speaking up for myself is a punishable offense. It has left me feeling very fearful but of nothing in particular. It's a general sense that there will be pushback and punishment.

 On the heels of that lay a far more disturbing question. Why on earth didn't I stop the doctor from continuing the procedure in light of the excruciating pain he was inflicting? Why did I feel I wasn't allowed to stop him?

  What is wrong with me?

  

  Because feeling pain is for my own good. Like when I had my appendix out as a teen. After spending the day home from school with an uncommonly sore stomach, my mom took me to the doctors when she got home from work. He had to assess if this was the issue so he investigated the area. The pain exploded in my belly. 

  What happened after that is pretty vague but I do remember every single pothole in the road and speeding over the train tracks on the way to the hospital. My dad was driving. The speed limit didn't matter. 

  I also remember being wheeled down the hallway to the operating room. Christmas balls and tinsel adorned the ceiling. 

  Because my pain and discomfort is considered an inconvenience, an exaggeration. 

  Because there have been people in my life who enjoy inflicting pain. 

  Because my role was to take it.

  Because any sort of attention was better than no attention at all. 

  Because tattle telling is one of the biggest social taboos on the planet: a child's code of silence.

  Because being grown up means keeping things to yourself. It means sucking up the pain and getting the job done.

  Because there is nothing worse than not being believed.

  Oh, yes there is...it's being blamed for being in pain regardless of what caused it in the first place.

  It's no wonder I couldn't stop the gynecologist, the doctor, this male authority figure because my stop button has been crushed under the footsteps of experience.

  It isn't completely unsalvageable though. 

  It's simply going to take some repairs to get it operational: sandpaper to remove all the corrosion, oil to free the movement, a polishing cloth to make the lens shine, and a new light bulb. Rewiring the button is the most complicated thing of all but I rest in the assurance that Jesus will help me sort all that out.

  I think I'll add some sort of sound to it...a foghorn claxon so people can actually hear me when I say, "Enough!"

  Because Jesus says I am worth it.

  And the held back, silenced tears finally begin to fall because this whole experience has been far more traumatic than I cared to admit or even address.

  This sucks.

  

 

Advocacy

   "Show me the right path, O Lord; point out the road for me to follow." Psalm 25:6

  A new laptop is up and running for the most part. Apparently I need to purchase a Microsoft package to get Word, etc. to be able to use their programs. It's a bit frustrating because I need to write a letter. It's an important letter. To a doctor. 

Warning: The contents of this post may be disturbing for some readers.

  In mid October I had a small procedure to remove a large polyp. It was growing in a place unnoticed until I had a long overdue physical. My family doctor found it during her internal exam. She assured me it is a common occurrence in women but would require the services of a gynecologist for its removal.

  I had to wait a few weeks to see him but before I went I returned to my family doctor to request something to "take the edge off." I don't do well riding the stirrups especially if a male doctor is involved. She was more than willing to prescribe something because it would appear this is a common request.

  My appointment was at our local hospital so I showed up on time with the friend who drove me there. Most of the edges had been smoothed by the magic pill. The gynecologist was on time, too.

  Before he started, I told him I had taken something to help me stay calm. I also informed him I was a sexual abuse survivor and that being exposed is very difficult for me. He thanked me for sharing this information with him.

  He explained what he was about to do. 

  A small tool with a grabber on the end is used to pull the polyp tight then a scalpel cuts it free. My family doctor had already told me what to expect but it was good to hear it again.

  There was no freezing.

  The pain went from knees to armpits as he grabbed and pulled and sliced. Because it was a large polyp, about the size of my thumb, he struggled to get all of it.

  There was no freezing.

  I sobbed and couldn't help but cry out as I lay there.

  My cries triggered a part of my past I had hoped was laid to rest.

  Yet I never moved. I never said, "STOP!"

  It's taken me the last couple of months to be able to think about all that happened on the examination table.

  The doctor apologized when he was done. I've had that kind of apology before, " I am sorry, I never meant to hurt you..." It's not about me at all.

  I want to write to him because I have a slew of questions. 

  I live in a first world country. Dentists use a topical spray to numb the gums before using a needle to inject freezing. A mole isn't removed without freezing. Stitches aren't administered without it either. So why was there nothing used in this most sensitive part of a women's anatomy?

  Am I angry?

  Yes. 

  Is it because it was only a woman's procedure that there was no consideration for the pain being inflicted? Is it because the Doctor wasn't prepared for the scope of what needed removing? Is it because his time is far too important to put the brakes on to get what I needed? 

  Is it because I'd taken something to ease my nerves he thought that was sufficient?

  If this happened to me, how many other women have suffered?

  How many other women have accepted this type of treatment because we are, after all, just women.

  Oh. The Lord just reminded me: the hospital has a patient advocacy office. I'm going to give them a call.

  You know what scares me the most?

  The polyp might grow back.

  

  

Obey

   "How great is the goodness You have stored up for those who fear You. You lavish it on those who come to you for protection...You shelter them in Your presence, far from accusing tongues."Psalm 31:19-20

   My laptop fan has decided to stop working. Which means the machine won't stay on so I am using my cell phone to do today's post. This merely slows the thought processes down which is a good thing especially when things are rising up in a flood.

  There have been a couple of situations lately that stirred up a whack of resentment and a deep sadness. I've been left feeling unheard and trapped by other's demands and expectations; expectations where I feel I have no choice except to toe the line like I always have.

  This is nothing new. What is new is the realization that obedience is so ingrained into my behavior, it leaves no room for self determination. Obedience obliterates my ability to choose.

  The bigger issue is not having my decisions respected when I summon up the courage to actally say what I need or want. 

   It's not easy to voice these things. Historically they were of little to no consequence to the important people in my life. A child must do as they are told. A wife must obey their spouse.

  But I am neither a child nor a spouse...so why does the injunction to obey still have such power? 

  I think I have been brain washed and gaslit and controlled until obedience is  automatic and unquestioning. 

  It's a good thing I am writing today because awareness is the first step of change.

  Those who are used to holding all the power aren't going to like this one bit.

  

  Lord, protect me. In Jesus' name, Amen!

  

Choice

   "Yes, I am the gate. Those who come in through Me will be saved. They will come and go freely and will find good pastures." Jesus, John 10:9

  An excerpt from Sunday's reading: God exercises restraint in His strength, patiently waiting until we invite Him in. Why? Because He is a God of love, and love always gives the supreme honour of choice. Love without choice is not love at all.

  Love without choice is not love at all. 

  Those words reached deep into my heart the moment I heard them because I've been thinking about boxes, especially the ones I am trying to climb out of. Some are of my own making. Others? Not so much.

  Choice...it pretty much governs everything we do on both a conscious and subconscious level. Conscious choices can begin a new pattern of behaviour. In time, new patterns becomes ingrained and subconscious provided we keep reinforcing whatever decision was made.

  My body pretty much has a built in alarm after doing seven months of regimented eating. It knows when snack time is and lets me know without needing to set the clock as a reminder. I had to in the beginning or I'd forget to eat according to Gina Livy's plan.

  The biggest part of creating new patterns is breaking free of the old boxes that governed our choices.

  Getting rid of boxes means unpacking them first.

  This isn't going to be easy because, right now, I am very, very angry. I am angry that my upbringing taught me I had no choice but to obey, that to want something different was a punishable offense. 

  I've said before that a compliant child needs just as much, if not more, help than one who rebels and acts out. 

  Compliant was my middle name. 

  Fear was my god. A god that ruled me in life, in marriage, and even now pokes its barbs into my heart whenever I make a decision about something.

  You see, I live in fear of making the "wrong" choice even when it's small and mundane like deciding what to make for dinner.

  

  I know why. I could write pages and pages of the frozen moments when I learned, without fail, that my choices were wrong (if they were even considered.) I rarely spoke of what I wanted for myself. It wasn't worth the pain of being slammed down, mocked or belittled yet again. So I practiced silence, my needs and wants and unspoken desires festering in my breast unheard, unheeded, unrequired.

  It was a terribly lonely way to live.

  And now? Those suppressed desires are clamoring to be heard but I know there are box builders in my life who will have no part of it. 

  Yet God calls us to sacrificial love doesn't He?

  But what if I am offering God's gift of sacrificial love to the wrong people? Is it even supposed to be a gift for people? Or is it only meant to be a gift for God?

  Oh, Lord, I am so confused right now.

  Can there even be sacrifice without love?

  Yes. Sacrifice can foster hatred when sacrifice is demanded. When the sacrifices of one are the foundation of power and control for someone else.

  God will not take something that is not offered to Him freely. People will.

  So why do I even have such people in my life?

  Because I have no choice...or do I?

  

  

  

  

Shark's Tooth

  "The Lord says, "I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts, the stripping locusts and the cutting locusts." Joel 2:25

  It's been a while. Much has happened, most of it being rather mundane and simply living life, wrapping up the garden and work. The diet is still working, albeit a bit slower this time around but that's okay. The body needs time to solidify to a new normal before launching into further loss.

  Then there's the stuff that's new and exciting and different.

  I am just back from Varadero, Cuba. My housemate had a friend's son do a destination wedding so she was invited but didn't want to go alone. I called myself the wedding crasher because I had only met some of the people at a shower a month or so before we went.

  It ended up being a lovely time. The resort wasn't overly large. The service was excellent once the tips started flowing. The beach and waves were a joy. There was ample food minus leafy greens and fresh vegetables with the exception of cabbage and cukes. We gave up trying to stick to the food plan and instead indulged in what was available.

  The best part was being with a large group of people for more than a day. I made many new friends.

  I had very little anxiety despite being in a strange place surrounded by strangers and noise and busy-ness. The second or third night was the only night I had to retreat to the quiet of the room following a bus trip to explore some caves. I had armed myself with ample drawing materials just in case but the days were full so I only did one on the flight down, one that captured the essence of the hotel and a rather dark piece on the flight home that was used to process a disturbing day trip to Havana. 

  Our tour guide spoke the political speech because I doubt there was anything else he could have done. He was very good at evading questions or giving answers that didn't answer anything. We were led down some alleys littered with graffiti. One showed up often and it struck me that it was a message about Cuban life: 2 + 2 = 5? 

  New Mercedi Benz sedans parked beside the iconic 1950's classic cars which are only on the road through ingenuity and band aids. Most of them have been retrofitted with diesel engines which made Havana air rank with fumes. 

  The disparity between those who have and those who don't is extreme. 

  The guide told us there were no sharks in Cuba because the water is too warm for them. 

  The last day at the resort I was left to my own devices when a group wanted to hop the bus to Varadero to see the sights. I declined to go because the beach called my name with an urgency I couldn't ignore. One of the beaches was better for collecting shells, a favorite past-time of mine. That's where I headed with open heart and mind to see what might be found. I'd already been blessed with a new type of shell for my collection the day we arrived.

  Barely ten feet into the beach walk, an ivory shark's tooth lay fully exposed on the sand. Its iconic triangular shape was impossible to miss. Scooping it up, I heard the tour guide's assurance about there being no sharks in Cuba. It would appear there are because it was white, not black and fossilized.

  I knew about fossilized sharks' teeth from a trip to the Gulf Coast of Florida when my family was young. The beaches are littered with them.

  God whispered His promise to me..."I will restore all that the locusts have eaten."

  The rest of our conversation is personal, between Him and me but sitting here, another layer of understanding has risen from the depths.

  "There are no sharks in Cuba..."

  I think of the poverty and oppression there. I think of the middle aged white man, sitting at one of the dining room tables accompanied by a young Cuban girl who was eating as though she'd never seen food. I think of the waiter who told us his daughter lived in Texas. He doubted he'd ever see her again. I think of the young mother who begged a peso after we admired her beautiful baby. I think of the terribly thin man sitting at the side of the road tending a small flock of just as thin goats. I think of the tour guide who could not speak the truth out of fear of losing his job, the same guide who tested the waters to see if one of the men on the tour might be interested in a Cuban girl. I think of the cement guard towers that were everywhere, even in the middle of nowhere where a guard sat guarding nothing.

  

  I don't think I'll go back there again although I think there are sharks no matter where I might go. 

  Lord, I pray Your promise will be fulfilled. In Jesus' precious name, AMEN!

  

  

  

Catching Up

  "May God be merciful and bless us. May his face smile with favor on us." Psalm 67:1 

  I am here, Lord, to hear what You have to say. I feel the unformed words pounding at my heart and mind, calling me, urging me to write. Lead me, show me, teach me as they unfold through my fingers. In Jesus' name, AMEN!

  I've been away more this summer. Projects have kept my hands busy. The yard and garden are winding down, their fruits eaten or preserved for winter enjoyment. In a way, it leaves me sad because that means the short, dark days of winter are around the corner. 

  I've stayed the course as far as my diet is concerned except for choosing the odd indulgence here and there during special events. My weight continues to drop for a total of 33.5 pounds so far.  My measurements continue to shrink. The Livy Method Fall program started last week so my friend and I are raring to go at it again.

  Someone said to me a couple of times, "I hope you don't lose too much weight so we don't recognize you any more!"

   It took some time but I was blessed with a response for the next time they said this.

  "Then you will see the woman God made me to be, not this overweight, unhealthy person He never meant me to be."

  What I realized is that I see a stranger in the mirror, too! My face has changed so much! Buried cheekbones are appearing. My jaw line is becoming more defined. The double chin is almost gone except for some crinkly, sagging skin on my neck that comes when we get older. 

  I also see someone who is happy. 

  There's room for happiness now. 

  Not having to fight the anxiety day in, day out, every hour, every minute of every day has changed my life completely. That's not to say it's completely gone. There are moments where it reappears, but oh, God, thank You for the healing this diet has brought into my life. 

  It's helped me realize that all the therapy, all the meds in the world would never have done what proper food has done. 

  I believed I was broken beyond repair. I believed I was less than because of my inability to overcome the anxiety. I believed it was a life sentence, that all my days would be forever wrapped in the tension of a body and mind on perpetual yellow alert. 

  How could I have known that my body was screaming of the danger held in each mouthful of "comfort food"? How could I have known my body was crying out for change? For a different approach to handling the anxiety?

  How could I have known I was poisoning myself with kindness?

  Now, when my body cries out, I hear its wants. I hear it calling for greens, or fish, or fruit. I hear it calling for water and maybe an extra coffee. I hear its cry for soup or carrots. I hear it say, "That's enough, thank you." My body tells me when to go to bed and it rests deeply to waken fully refreshed.

  It will take time to heal from the toll a lifetime of anxiety has had. It will take time for the hair triggers to reset. It will take time for my body to trust me in giving it what it needs. There's still much room for improvement there, in the listening I need to do. There will come a time when it becomes as automatic as typing. 

  I have an advantage, though, the anxiety taught me to listen to what's happening in my body. 

  As always, God is the Redeemer, the One who takes what is broken and makes it anew. 

  Thank you for such a gift as this.

  Amen!

Turn of Events

  "As a face is reflected in water, so the heart reflects the real person." Proverbs 27:19

  A couple of nights ago, I was drying off the veggie spiralizer we got to convert things like zucchini into noodles. I was startled to see my index finger begin dripping blood. The sharp cutting blade had neatly severed a chunk off the side. My friend helped with the first aid needed because it was late in the evening and I baulked at going to the hospital with an injury they couldn't do much about. There's not enough extra skin on a finger for closing such a gap.

  The next day, she headed off for a couple of day's quality family time with her children and grandchildren. She left a list of strict instructions to follow regarding keeping my finger dry and clean and something about not overdoing it. 

  Around supper, I decided to change the dressing. It was extremely uncooperative in coming off. It started to bleed something fierce again. I decided to go to the hospital and have it looked at and, more importantly, dressed with something that wouldn't stick to the wound. As a non-emergency, it took several hours for the doctor to see me. 

  I was right, they couldn't do any sort of stitches but they told me how to look after it and what to watch for should there be any sort of infection. As an added bonus, they updated my tetanus shot just in case.

  It's funny, how a sense of urgency filled my soul to go there in the first place. 

  As I was waiting to be seen a young man came in complaining of pain. He was saying some rather strange things out loud. I believe there may have been some sort of mind altering substance running through his veins. 

  He ended up sitting a couple of chairs away from my little corner of safety. He continued to make loud and rather strange comments to no one in particular. I admit I was a bit startled and unsure of him. But, in the midst of his confusion, he showed kindness, gratitude and respect towards the triage nurses.

  He was having a hard time grasping the long wait times to see a doctor. His agitation was clearly made known to no one in particular. He turned to me and asked if he was being too loud.

  Something about him reached into my heart. I began to talk with him. He shared that his father had recently passed away in the hospital. I also found out he had lost his mom as well. I figure he was in his late teens or early twenties. We talked a long time and even shared a laugh.

  It wasn't long before I was reaching into my purse for a work business card and told him if he ever needed to talk, to stop on by. It started a slew of questions about who the Krasman Centre was named for and what a peer support worker is.

  He had heard about us feeding the homeless and people struggling with addictions who he deemed utterly useless. I was able to share that, sometimes, people just needed a hand up to start them on a journey towards a better life. 

  Everyone in the emergency department was listening to our conversation. 

  When I finally got called in a couple of hours later, we gave each other a fist bump. He thanked me for talking to him.

  There was still a long wait in the cubicle. The doctor came and checked out my wound then left to give the nursing staff his instructions.

  The male nurse who had been working in triage was now on wound duty. He had been the one who had triaged the young man. He thanked me for what I had done, for having helped the situation. He said that this young man frequently used the emergency department as a touchstone, a place of human connection.

  I had a hard time not crying when I heard that.

  The nurse asked who I was so I repeated who I worked for and what I did. He thanked me again for the kindness I'd shown.

  As I left, the young man was still waiting. He'd been dozing in his chair but he woke when the door opened. He smiled at me and offered another fist bump. I told him to take care of himself then left. It was nearly midnight by then.

  I have caught a glimpse of what my co-workers do every day. The Krasman centre is involved with a pilot project at two Toronto hospitals. The final goal is to have mental health and addictions peer support workers in every single emergency department in Ontario (to start.) Every day they make a difference in someone's life by just being there for them when maybe, like this young man, they have nobody else to turn to in times of crises.

  I truly believe God placed the urgency in my heart to go to the hospital last night instead of the night before. Yes, my finger needed seeing to but more importantly, this young man needed someone who saw him for who he was...a lost boy in a man's body.

  I don't know if I'll ever see him again but that's okay. I pray he will get the help he needs. I also pray for the other people in the emergency room that our conversation changed their own attitudes towards people who struggle with mental health and substance use. In Jesus' name, AMEN.

   

  

Super Statistics

   "I (God) will answer them before they even call to me. While they are still talking bout their needs, I will go ahead and answer their prayers!" Psalm 65:24

  This is a day to celebrate achievements! Stats say it all!

  Today's post is #2000! There have been over 155,000 visitors to the blog; a number that fills me with gratitude and the encouragement to keep writing. You, dear readers, are a blessing unlike no other!

  Today is the 1st day of Bridging the Gap with Gina Livy.  The Gap group is a zero cost group for people who participated in the Spring/Summer 2023 program and are signed up for the fall group as well. The 91 day program finished yesterday. It left me feeling both sad and excited like all endings do because an ending is the start of another beginning.

   I couldn't be happier with the results both on and off the scale!

  As of today, I have dropped 26.2 pounds, lost 4 inches around my hiney and 4 1/2 from my waist. Up top was a bit less but that's okay I am happy to keep the curves! All my other body parts are noticeably thinner even my toes! 

  The double chin has become one due to a bit of a sag courtesy of gravity's force of 9.8 meters per second squared. However, over the next 3 months my skin will become tighter around my new, smaller frame as it renews according to the rate of renewal God created our cells to have. The slightly sagging chin won't be as noticeable.

  Ruth Kane, a Livy Loser herself of 70ish lbs., is a researcher at the University of Ottawa. She has been given government funding to study Gina Livy's program over the next several years because of the program's 95% success rate. While the study's focus is weight loss, they are also studying the statistics of people who are able to overcome diabetes, arthritis, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, digestion issues, inflammation and many other illnesses related to being overweight.

  Governments are at a loss about how to address the growing obesity problem here in Canada, currently at 29%. The US obesity rate is even bigger at 39.6%. 

  The eat less/exercise more/calorie in/calorie out strategy the diet and fitness world has said is the only way is unsustainable. Eventually, the body believes it is starving so it will shut down the metabolism and convert all food intake to fat. It is possible to gain weight eating a mere 600 calories a day while exercising like a fiend. (This is part of Gina's own story.)

  One of the major weight loss organization is now pushing medications. Medications I might add which require a lifelong commitment. Some of these cost upwards of $1000/month and can have terrible side effects. 

   Successful weight loss according to Canadian government standards is 5% over 6 months. Gina's plan blows this out of the water. My loss is just over 10% in 3 months! And I am not alone. This is a common result for people who follow the carefully designed program. 

  Which, by the way, does not involve starving, depriving, weight or measuring. There are zero special foods to buy, zero prepackaged meals, and zero fat tasteless stuff is gone forever!

  It's also normal for people to not lose weight in the beginning. 5% of the participants in the Spring/Summer program had this happen. The body might need time to heal from past starvation/deprivation diets. Underlying health issues could mean it will take longer. But, by giving the body what it needs to heal and repair the damages of the past, it will eventually be able to focus on shedding the fat the body doesn't want either! 

  There is zero scientific evidence anywhere that says you cannot lose weight regardless of health, age or gender. (I love this statistic from Gina.)

  The majority of these people who have a slow start go on to reach their goals.

  Losing weight is just the start of the 4 stages towards reaching and maintaining your "finally and forever" as Gina calls it. Her plan teaches us how to maintain and sustain the loss permanently. Yes, permanently!

  I think the biggest challenge with Gina's program is that it takes time. It is not a quick fix. 

  In a culture where everything is about NOW, it may not appeal to everyone. I figured since it took 59 years to get as heavy as I was, if it only takes 2-3 years to get me back to what I weighed in my twenties, I'll take the slow route thank you very much!

  Because I feel great!

  Now, if I could only preach the love of Jesus as much as I've shared about the program...Or maybe this is preaching the love of Jesus because I see how much stress and shame and guilt is attached to body size. I see a culture that uses food for comfort which in the end is of no comfort at all. This is not what God wants for anyone. 

 

  The 91 day Fall/Winter program only costs $75 Canadian. Sign up soon because Gina's groups have a 100% sell out rate. 

  Someone said to me the other day, "You're not going to lose so much weight that we don't recognize you are you?"

  It surprised me a bit so I didn't know how to respond until much later.

  "I will lose the weight I need to lose until the body God designed especially for me is finally revealed!" 

  While my goal number has some flexibility because it involves my body telling me when to stop, the one I've picked will be 63% less than when I began last April! Holy Cow! That's a whole other not-so-small person inside of me that will be forced to vacate the premises!  Praise God and AMEN!

  

  

Momentum

   "But I press on to possess that perfection for which Christ Jesus first possessed me." Philippians 3:12

  The bathroom scale greeted me with a new lowest low this morning: the measure of success! Tracking what's happening is the sole purpose of the scale. My weight loss pattern is spending two or three days hovering around one number then I drop for a couple of days. Then I go up a bit, hover, lose more and repeat. Knowing this pattern has eased my mind considerably around normal weight fluctuations, even while aiming to lose!

  It's not normal to stay the same weight day in and day out. Stress, lack of sleep and even eating salty foods can cause fluctuations. I've learned so much! 

  While Gina Livy's program is not Christian based, I have watched her model the values that are important to me as a believer: love, grace, truth, vulnerability, encouragement, and empathy are the fundamental values that make this process unique in the diet world. She is a fierce protector of her participants and will not allow negative or insulting behaviour towards anyone involved in the FB support group. Oh, and her patience! She answers the same question over and over and over again while never getting frustrated with questioners. 

  I am no where near as patient and find myself frequently thinking, "Sheesh, people, just read the information!"

  Which isn't nice because this judgement is based on the ample time available to do the reading, the listening, the learning and the huge successes so far. 

  I should be thanking God for how easy it has been for the scale to drop; that there are no underlying health issues or missing body parts making it harder to lose; that I have love, support and encouragement from people around me. I should be giving thanks that my brain is able to retain much of the information after reading or hearing it one time. I should be giving thanks for not only having the courage, but also the blog and the art, to unravel the emotions and triggers that have come up throughout this process. 

  Most of all, I should give thanks that my mental health journey has already made me aware of my body's signals. It has not been difficult to hear what it says in regards to what it wants for dinner! 

  I should be praying for those who don't have these things! 

  Oh, Lord, such are the many, many blessings Your generosity has provided! Seeing it all laid out like this is truly humbling because without God's design and plans for my life, I would have none of these things. 

  I'd like to lose this critical side of myself. 

  Hold on a minute while I think this one through...Jesus says to love our neighbour as ourselves. I once heard someone say, "If we can't love ourselves, God help our neighbour." 

  My own inner critic has been getting even more disarmed, dismantled and cast aside since the start of the program and with the help of my friend. I can pray that the patience, gentleness and compassion I've found pouring out over my own struggles and inadequacies will overflow to everyone around me. 

  I can ask the Lord to remind me to pray instead of judge. I can also ask Him to help me be more aware of the leading of the Holy Spirit about how to pray and who to pray for. If listening to my belly is so easy, why is this so hard?

  I think this is the evolution of my faith. It is taking me towards an even deeper experience as a Christian. As it should be! Mostly, my walk with the Lord has been about finding healing for the deep, deep hurts that created the Black River. Like a river flowing into the sea, the currents of faith and living waters have incorporated its existence. They will forever be a part of what shaped me but the forward momentum of grace's tide is unstoppable!

  I only need to do what I need to do to see this happen.

  Lord, help me be a better person towards others. Fill me with grace and patience so the critic's voice is forever silenced. In Jesus' name, AMEN!

   

Filling Time

   "No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father." Matthew 6:15-16

  I am patiently waiting for paint to dry so I can do touch ups as needed. It's better to keep myself busy because I have a tendency rush the process. Paint ends up getting smeared which means major touch ups and fixes.  

  It's my work's 25th Anniversary. this year. We are hosting a big barbeque/gathering this Friday. It's a double celebration for us. We are now fully open. It's taken about a month to unpack everything, purchase what was lost in last year's fire so that's a big part of why we're having the party.

 

  The paint is being used to put our logo on a large canvas which also marks this milestone. The plan is to have markers for everyone to sign the canvas rather than having a guest book that gets stuffed onto a shelf somewhere. As I was painting, I thought it would be cool to share it with our other sites so they could also have people sign it. I think they are going to have their own celebrations, too. 

  My friend and I got our bikes back. They needed a general servicing after gathering dust in the shed for a couple of years. They needed servicing by someone who knows something about bikes. There's a local man who rebuilds, fixes, and sells used bikes. He told my friend that he would take any bike and that he had just shipped off 100 bikes to Africa for those in need. I think he's in his 90's.

  We took them for a test drive when we got home and they are running smoothly. It's a good workout for the ole legs and gets my heart rate up. Walking doesn't have the same effect for sure.

  Our session of the Gina Livy program is winding up in a few more days. Gina is offering a free "bridge the gap" group for those of us in the summer program who also signed up for her fall session. I haven't quite figured out how I am going to tackle the gap. 

  There's a couple of options. One is to repeat the first few weeks of the program until the fall one starts. The other is to personalize the plan. 

  This option involves being mindful of hunger, what the body wants to eat, and when while still sticking to the nutrient rich diet I've been eating so far, and not going longer than 3.5 hours without eating. Hard to believe how much eating has helped with weight loss! Keeping up with hydration is also important. This will give my body the chance to solidify the weight that's been lost so far before beginning another session geared at further loss. 

  I have time to figure out what will work best.

  It's been an amazing journey so far. I can't wait to see what is in store for the fall! There's a slew of exercises for those of us who don't exercise just waiting to be utilized. I might have to draw a "how-to" poster rather than having to search for the instruction videos. If it's in my face, the better chance at success. Kind of like leaving my laptop out makes me want to write. 

  My paint is dry. I hope you have an amazing day! And if you think of me on Friday, please pray for no rain!

   

  .

Doubt

   "You will show me the way of life, granting me the joy of Your presence and the pleasures of living with You forever." Psalm 16:11

   Hmmm...what about doubt? What is it? Is it a bad thing?

  When I think of Thomas, who doubted the Lord's resurrection, Jesus met him where he was at. Thomas was able to see first hand that He had come back from the dead. Jesus didn't condemn him for his doubts. Then Jesus blessed all the people who will never see Him alive for believing by faith alone.

   I think doubt and faith go hand in hand. I think of the numbers of people who doubted the existence of Jesus; who delved into study only to discover He is real. This is a good thing. Their doubt made them seekers of the Kingdom!

  Then there's the doubt that paralyzes and sucks the life out of dreams. Which has me thinking it's also the kind that shuts out God's abilities to move in and through us. It closes us off from unlimited possibilities.

  There are lots of questions rolling around the ole gray matter this morning...

  Is my faith sufficient?

  Is my ability to believe that God will do what He says He will do strong enough to push doubt aside?

  Do I trust Him? 

  Do I trust a God who allowed a disciple to put his hand into the wounds of His Son? 

  Do I even have to purge myself of doubt before good things will happen?

  Isn't faith believing in spite of doubt? 

  When I started the Gina Livy program, I joined to support my friend. It didn't make sense to eat differently. At the time, I doubted there was anything in it for me. O boy, was I wrong!

  Doubt has been cast aside as the non-scale victories keep piling up, never mind the lost weight! Eating the foods God designed us to eat has been life changing.

  But I wouldn't have known these blessings without signing up in spite of my doubts and suspicions about yet another diet plan. 

  I would love to be able to nominate Gina for a Nobel prize for her life changing work. It's already reaching around the globe.

  Do I have the ability to keep showing up despite the doubts. And yes, I am talking about writing the book.

  Oh...smile... I've been doing this all along. 

  There was raising children who I didn't give birth to. They came into my life at an early age for all of us. While there is much I would love to be able to do over, I did the best that I could with the tools I had at the time. Most of those were broken already.

  Then there was life on the farm and everything I didn't know about livestock or tractors or hay balers yet still managed to do okay.

  I think of all the things that have been built and made and created despite having very little knowledge to begin with.

  Then there's my mental health journey. I kept showing up despite the hard, hard things that needed to be overcome. During the grinding weeks and months and years, I trusted God to heal my wounds. For a long time, my only hope was this healing would finally happen the moment He took me home. Boy, was I wrong!

  (Smile.) Doubt has been ground into grit through a faith that has sustained, nurtured and encouraged every step made, every project ever built, every word that was ever typed. It was a faith that existed long before I knew Jesus as Lord.

  Even though doubt may whisper in my ear now and again, I am in this for the long haul. There's no deadline, no pressure to get the book written, all I can do is keep showing up just like I've done my entire life. 

  I know there will be a wonderful, amazing moment when I hear God say, "It is finished!"

  AMEN!

  

  

  

Success

  "And may the Lord our God show us His approval and make our efforts successful. Yes, make our efforts successful!" Psalm 90:17

  I keep wrestling with the idea of pride. I have no idea why I am so afraid of it. Is afraid even the right word? 

  I've begun writing the book about the Art of Prayer. There's a constant, toxic chorus in the background. These objectors are fighting hard to stop me in my tracks, to fill my mind with doubt and insecurity. It makes it very hard to concentrate. 

  Maybe they are the source of my fear.

  Ya think?

  I do my best to ignore them because they are lying. I know they are! The coarse and shrieking shadow voices hell bent on tearing these first tentative efforts to shreds are not coming from God.

  A few posts ago, God showed me that pride and confidence are not the same thing at all. It helped me understand that utilizing God's gifts to the best of my ability is what I am supposed to do! 

  As a bit of an aside, the first time I was hospitalized for my mental health, I vaguely remember telling the intake nurse that I was supposed to be here, that God had assured me this is where I needed to be. At some point during my stay they reached out to the counsellor I'd been seeing for a while.

  She shared with me after I was discharged that they had some concerns about the fact I was hearing God speak to me. Her response to their inquiries was absolutely priceless, "Do you think that maybe it's because she is a Christian?" 

  She saved me from being mis-diagnosed with schizophrenia.

  All of us hear voices at some time or another. It could be hearing a beloved dog bark after he or she is no longer on this earth. It could be the voice of a loved one, too, whom God has taken home. It's normal to have these auditory experiences.

  Maybe I hear more because when the focus is on writing I am in a posture of vulnerability before my Lord. I may be typing but I am also listening for God's input and revelations. Maybe that's why I end up hearing the enemy of my soul who is trying to drown Him out with his poisonous words.

  Folks, there's a battle going on here. But I know the harder the enemy works to tear me down, the more I dig in my heels to follow God's calling. The louder the enemy is, the more attuned I am to hearing Truth: the beautiful, sweet, gentle voice of lightness and life.

  

  I've become so used to the kitchen table being my safe place, my sanctuary, I've forgotten the basics of Christian 101: PRAY! Pray the prayers of protection. Pray the authority of Christ to banish the devil's voice. Pray for God to bless the keyboard, the table, my home with His presence and His Spirit.

  Dear readers, if the Lord brings me to mind, please pray for the protection I need to write the book because you know what? The enemy wouldn't be fighting so desperately to stop it if it wasn't something that has tremendous value. What that is I will learn in due time. For now, all I am called to do is write.

  Thank you so much!

AMEN.

  

  

  

Vanity

 "Don't copy the behaviour and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God's will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect." Romans 12:2

  Today's guest on Gina's live was a plastic surgeon. While we listened to him share about the various treatments for saggy, aging, loose skin I couldn't help but realize how many unhappy people there are in this world. I couldn't help but realize there are people who invest tens of thousands of dollars to not "look their age."

  A while back there was an ad on a local TV station for a cosmetic surgeon. The woman had obviously utilized their services. Her face did not look natural or move naturally. Her eyes and mouth were too tight, too frozen. I likened it to a scary clown. It wasn't a good face to advertise what plastic surgery can do.

  How sad...how sad that she had to go to such lengths to see herself as beautiful but I wonder...did she? Or did she keep on trying other ways to stave off the toll of time? Did she keep thinking someone else could make her beautiful?

  I've probably written about her before because she touched my woman's heart with deep sorrow. She has a face I cannot forget.

  I am not against using surgical methods if there is a need. Even for myself down the road. I have very deep set eyes and yes, eyebrows, like the rest of me, feel the effect of gravity. There may come a point when it is impossible to keep my eyes open so an eye lift might become a necessity. However, if the weight loss delays the need for surgery, that's an added bonus! 

 Hmm...if there is a need. Who am I to decide for someone if there is or isn't a need?

  So...vanity...is it looking in the mirror and celebrating the impact weight loss has on every part of my body? Is it vain to celebrate that my own middle-aged jowls are less noticeable? What about the the incredible shrinking double chin? The belly shelf is being put back where it belongs, too.

  I guess the bigger question is this: Is being thinner my barometer of beauty?

  Maybe. 

  But maybe it's because my features were lost, compressed, blurred and swallowed by all the extra weight I was carrying. 

  Maybe looking in the mirror is more like seeing the real me coming out of the shadows. Maybe seeing the woman who didn't take care of herself shrink away into a distant memory is actually an exercise in gratitude.

  Because I am grateful.

  Looking in the mirror is where I can see God's healing within be manifested. It's okay to need proof or the encouragement this brings because there is still a ways to go. All I know is this wonderful body will let me know when we've got there.

  Thanks You, Lord, for all You have done through Gina's program. Thank You that it has helped me understand on a deeper level how wonderfully made we are. AMEN.

Discipline

   "Let the favor of our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us: yes, establish the work of our hands!" Psalm 90:17

  "Those who I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent." Revelation 3:19

  "There has not only been a growing mind body connection, my heart and soul have joined them. I can finally dare to have plans for the future. What I want will happen if I keep showing up to do the things I need to do to get there. Thank you for teaching me that discipline isn't the bad guy. It doesn't judge or punish or squash hope. It doesn't demand more. Discipline is doing the very best that I can do every single day." Me...part of last night's comment in the Gina Livy FB group.

  Life has taught me that discipline was used by those in power to make sure I toed the line according to their needs, wants and demands on my life. Discipline was a weapon of control that dared not be questioned. While no rod crossed my back, the silent treatment, the smouldering rage or unadulterated fury aimed my way whenever I deviated from what was demanded crushed my ability to think for myself.

  This was never, ever allowed.

  Love was never, ever involved. 

  "Side back, side front, turn, two, three, four..." I kept on dancing the Highland Fling.

  It's time to kick the devil's piper to the kerb. 

  This morning I repent of the ingrained behaviours learned from those who want or wanted complete obedience to their demands. I repent of living according to the parameters others set of how I should live my life, of how I should behave, and of how I should walk and talk and breathe and sleep (this is not an exaggeration.) I repent of the fear that comes whenever I make a decision, or set a goal for myself. I repent of believing these are punishable offenses. 

  I ask God to forgive me for shutting down the ability to dream the dreams He planted in my heart. I ask God to forgive me for having no idea what these were because the fear that paralyzed my heart and mind shut Him out, too.

  "Jesus loves me this I know..." the comforting words used to sing myself to sleep as a child got lost along the way. But I sing this song today because Jesus loves me this I know because He has shown me just how deep, how long, how patient His love is.

  I've had enough of living in fear.

  If I have the discipline to write a blog for eleven years; if discipline enables me to follow a diet by doing the things that need to be done; if discipline enabled me to do the work to rise above once crippling mental health challenges then I already have the discipline to see the dream God planted in my heart come to fruition. 

  I only need to show up and do the things that need to be done to make this happen.

  That is discipline: the kind that feeds into joy and hope and confidence; the kind that fills a life with purpose and dignity and self-respect.

  God has given me a gift in teaching me the Art of Prayer. It is not mine to hoard or hide or keep to myself. I've already shared the little booklet here and that was a great start. It is only part of the story, though. Using art as a form of prayer is far deeper, far richer than those few pages can encompass.

  I only need to show up and do the things that need to be done to make a book happen. 

  God is the author, I am His pen. He taught me the discipline of listening to what He wants to say. It is a great reassurance that He will be with me every step of the way. 

  I can do this. With God who strengthens me, I can!

  And I will.

   AMEN!

  

  

  

  

  

Sight

   "Jesus asked him, "What do you want me to do for you?" 

    "Lord," he said, "I want to see!"

     And Jesus said, "All right, receive your sight! Your faith has healed you." Instantly, the man could see, and he followed Jesus, praising God. And all who saw it praised God, too.

Luke 18:40-43

  If someone is blind and their vision is restored through surgery or even an eye transplant, it takes the brain time to make sense of the new input. Someone who has never seen a chair or a table or a book but only had touch to give these things shape and form would need some time for their brain to connect the sensory information with the visual. 

  I take seeing colour for granted. This would be a whole new world to learn about and explore if you once were blind.

  It's no wonder the man praised God because all of this was healed and brought into alignment instantly. His brain was healed as the unused neural pathways connected to vision were brought to life! This miracle is so much bigger than just not being able to see then being able to see perfectly!

  Lord? Where are You taking me this morning?

  I have sight. 

  But I can also be blind, can't I?

  My eyes don't always show me the truth.

  Those neural pathways devoted to sight can be influenced by what we imagine we are seeing. Point in case, the post a while back about looking like a "hard chore." Since then I've been able to reframe how I look at the picture.

  Instead of a hard chore, I see a woman who has lived a life full of sorrow and pain. I see a woman who didn't like getting her picture taken.

  I was blind, but now I see.

  My friend and I take a progress photo every Sunday to give us visual proof for how well the Gina Livy program is working. The weight loss might not be large, but the body continues to change as it gets the nutrition and water it needs. Gina, in her colourful language, constantly says losing twenty pounds through her program will look like forty on any other starvation/deprivation diet. I believe it. 

  I heard somewhere that losing ten pounds would mean losing an inch around the waist. My waist has slimmed down by a whopping four and a half! I've lost twenty-three pounds and the scale continues to drop. 

  Since writing about the "hard chore," I've become kinder. Subsequent pictures see a happier me who can take a picture and celebrate the victories caught by the camera. It's not just my waist that's slimmer, it's everywhere!

  Sorrow brings its own kind of blindness. So do fear and shame.

  For the last seventy-one days, I have been immersed in a virtual community whose only intention is to see all of succeed in a weight loss journey towards our finally and forever goal. This community of "losers" want to help us succeed in overcoming the blind spots, the lies, the doubts about who we are. It's so much more than simply losing weight. Losing the emotional baggage some of us have carried our entire lives is even more important!

  Not only is my body healing from years of neglect and poor nutrition, my mind is healing from years of neglect and poor nutrition, too. This daily feast of encouragement is affirming and reinforcing all that God has taught me over the years on the Black River. It's helping me to embrace His truth!

  I am finally starting to see that I am Cricket. She is me and I am her. (Smile. All the good things I see in her are in me!) The years of keeping her locked away, of blaming her, of hating her...heck...let's call it what it is...hating myself are over. All the pieces of me are becoming one person. 

  When we lock away our hurts, we lock away a piece of ourselves. I know that now but the only way I knew to survive was to lock down the pain in case it swallowed me alive. Shutting down Cricket was collateral damage. This way of coping is unsustainable. The locker room exploded. Thank God!

  My eyes aren't perfect yet. It's hard to shut the toxic voices down that are intent on messing with my vision; the ones who cry out against this tremendous personal growth. But, and it's a big BUT...I was blind BUT now I SEE! 

  Amen and praise God for all He has done because this is freaking amazing!

  

  

   

  

  

  

  

Thunderstorm

   "The Lord is my light and my salvation--so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?" Psalm 27:1

  A massive thunderstorm worked its way across the province yesterday evening. There were tornado watches and warnings for areas a half hour north of here. The distant thunder was unbelievable! A constant, incessant growling from the heavens went on and on. Until it was heard no more as the storm and warnings headed east.

  It completely missed here. A half dozen drops of rain and it was over. I gave thanks for not being directly underneath such thundering fury because thunderstorms and I don't get along. We never have.

  I may have written about this a long time ago but I woke up several times through the night with this topic on my mind. It needs revisiting because the storm and frantic alerts coming through the TV sent a memory postcard into the forefront of my brain.

  It was another summer, another storm. A child cried out in fear but found no comfort, only abandonment and insult. It's when Cricket learned to never mention being afraid despite the terror in her tiny breast every time another thunderboomer rolled in. She learned to never mention being afraid about anything.

  And another postcard popped up...It also involves water and fear. One of the tests in swimming lessons was to jump in the pool fully clothed. The object was to remove the wet clothing that would pull you under the water. I thought I was going to drown. It was so hard.

  I am still here so I must have successfully accomplished the test but the fear memory still wraps itself around my heart. The memory of frantically gasping for air, of barely breaking the surface, of sinking is so real, it could have been yesterday.

  Adult me realizes the swimming teacher would have leapt in to save me had I not broken the surface for air. Adult me realizes there was really no danger. I just remember wanting to cry when I finally crawled out of the pool utterly exhausted by the physical demands and the emotional overload. But I didn't. 

  Fear was a dirty little secret that must never be shared.

  My friend and I walked up the road while the thunder faded into the distance. (Smile.) Yup, ignored the warnings about when you can hear thunder, lightening can strike. I kept my concerns, aka fears, to myself. I guess fear is still my dirty little secret but today is going to change that.

  Last night, I needed to move. I needed to do something to distract me from such contemptuous and childish nonsense. (Sorry, Cricket. Sometimes I am my own enemy.)

  The birds were silent. The air was oppressive, thick with humidity and smoke from all the wildfires.

  During one of last night's awakenings, God changed my thinking about my fear of thunderstorms. 

  I've come to realize much of my anxiety is due to a sensitivity to the EMFs so prevalent in today's society. I've taken steps to protect my body from them and it's been a tremendous help in easing the constant jangling of my nerves.

  It's no wonder the massive electrical power generated by a thunderstorm causes such discomfort! It's no wonder my body responds with an overload of fight/flight hormones! If a microwave or a cell phone network can generate a powerful response, how much greater is it when the snarling clouds touch heaven?

  The birds and animals feel the electrical power of a thunderstorm and they hunker down. They respect and obey their inner warning system. They find shelter.

  And after the storm? Oh how they sing with joy!

  I felt the same release as the evening sun peered out from behind the massive bank of storm clouds and bathed the world in gold. The need to run, to hide, to be afraid, lifted from my child's soul.

  Moving forward, I may continue to be "afraid" of thunderstorms but the understanding that it is simply my survival mechanisms kicking in will give me the grace and patience to ride out the storm. I won't condemn this response. I won't negate the feeling. Instead, I'll stay sheltered, hold Cricket close to my heart and not abandon her in her need like I did last night. 

  Now, love, about your fear of drowning...why don't you tell me about it? God is with us both.

  He has all the answers. AMEN!

   

  

  

Plateau

   "For forty years I (Moses) led you through the wilderness, yet your clothes and sandals did not wear out. You ate no bread and drank no wine or other alcoholic drink, but He provided for you so you would know that He is the Lord your God." Deuteronomy 29:5

  For four days my weight was exactly the same. Gina had warned us about plateaus. It's one thing to know about something but it sure changes your understanding when you actually experience it!

  It stirred up a whack of unpleasant emotions even though I know plateaus are an integral part of weight loss. That's when the body is adjusting to significant weight change. It needs time to reconfigure hormones, heart size, blood flow, and a whack of other body functions. It needs time to adjust for there being less of a body to keep functioning at an optimal level.

  I know this is why they happen!

  By the third day the toxic inner critic was clamoring to be heard. It took great joy in beating me up about the scale not moving. It accused me of not getting the program right, not doing enough, yada yada yada...It's all a bunch of hooey but, still, the inner voice had some teeth.

  I think back to the people I've known who have dieted for years; how they complain about the scale not moving as fast as they would like. I've heard people say day in and day out, "If only I could loose that two pounds or five pounds..."

  Their voices are what the inner critic sounded like.

  "You're fat and you're going to stay fat!"

  I know this is a complete and utter lie coming from the father of lies. But here's the thing, stress can cause weight gain or a weight plateau. If the father of lies can keep us stressing about it, we are fighting an uphill battle. 

  I brushed the lies off, knowing they were utterly irrelevant to being on a plateau because Gina has explained time and again why they have to happen. 

  he came at me with the big guns..."You are a failure! Your life has been nothing but failure! What makes you think this stupid diet will succeed?" (FYI, I refuse to capitalize the devil's name or pronouns even when they come at the start of a sentence.)

  Nevertheless, "Ouch!" his words hurt.

  So today, after a 2.8 lb. loss over the last three days, I have truth to bind and silence the enemy of my soul. My body needed the four days of stability. It was ramping up to shed the fat it doesn't want either. That's the other part of a plateau...house cleaning! 

  This growing partnership with my body is an amazing thing. The body I've hated, insulted, abused, refused to look at, and neglected is responding to the love and care I am giving it. Love does that, you know, brings out the best in everything and everyone.

  The four day plateau also happened during a few days of not sleeping very well which also creates stress which also can contribute to the scale not moving. I've discovered I need more sleep to feel healthy. Eight and a half to nine hours has me functioning at an optimal level. I needn't feel guilty or lazy for spending that much time in bed. My body needs me to give it the time to do what it needs to do.

  I came across this quote the other day, "Self care is giving the world the best of you instead of what's left of you." Katie Reed

  I want to give the world my best. I want to be able to serve the Lord at my best. I want the body He designed to be running at optimum levels for as long as possible. 

  As for the devil's words? I hate to break the news but he's already lost.

  There will be other plateaus because the goal is to lose a significant amount of weight no matter how long it might take. Even though the scale is being used as a barometer of what that might be, it's also being used as a tool to understand my body's needs and how it works.

  The program is worth sticking to until my body is happy with where it is at. There will be an ongoing and positive inner dialogue throughout the process. I will listen to it and continually assess if my goal weight is really where I need to be.

  As for those Body Mass Indicator graphs? They are a cruel weapon that only take into account age, height and weight. There's no room for skeletal size or muscle mass or fitness level. It slams the gavel down on an arbitrary number based on three points of our fearfully and wonderfully made bodies.

  My end weight will be based on what my body says, not on some standardized weight requirement mandated by someone who created the cruelest, shame building, condemning "ideal" ever. 

  

Up Rising

   "If you make the Lord your refuge, if you make the Most High your shelter, no evil will conquer you; no plague will come near your home. For He will order His angels to protect you wherever you go." Psalm 91:9-11

  It feels rather odd to be going through a teenage rebellion at 59 years of age. I didn't do it then. It's time to do it now. 

  I didn't do it then because fear ruled my life. It's time to do it now because God's way is far better. 

  I didn't do it then because I was a people pleaser to the nth degree. It's time to do it now because I am letting go of feeling responsible for other people's emotions.

  I have no intentions of spitefully hurting others or being intentionally rude. It simply isn't in me. Although...there are times...no...it still isn't in me because I know how much it hurts.

  Teenage rebellion is something all teenagers should do to a certain degree. That's when young adults find themselves and their place in the world. That's when they begin to assert their autonomy and independence. Why is this even called rebellion? I mean, seriously, why?

  Yah...a teenage brain isn't completely formed yet so some of their decisions mightn't be the wisest but isn't making mistakes all part of becoming an adult? Heck, even adults make poor choices!

  I am not saying a teenager should rule the roost. Life comes with boundaries and responsibilities and consequences. Although if these haven't been learned by the time the teens hit, it's a bit late to start.

  That's all I am going to say about raising teenagers because one method doesn't work across the board. There are so many factors to consider.

  If a teen's foundation is strong, chances are they will make wise and forward thinking decisions. If they are secure in the knowledge they are loved, they will be confident and caring people.

  In a perfect world, we all would have been given this gift right from the very beginning.

  It's not a perfect world. 

   

  Rebellions happen for a reason. Just look at history, at the times the oppressed took up arms against their oppressors. It didn't always work out so well because the oppressed would become the oppressors like in communist countries. 

  Which is exactly how the devil wants it. Oppression is a wedge to drive us away from God.

  I am rebelling against the world's "standards" and heading straight into the arms of Jesus.

  Because it is important to nurture and protect the blessings God has placed in the fabric of my being.

  Because oppression's offspring is fear.

  I am sorry for this being so repetitious but it's important to keep telling myself this, to shore up my own foundations in the love of God. What I imagine happening will and can become actions.

  I took a bold step a couple of days ago during the morning check in with Gina Livy on FB. I shared about the blog and being a writer! It was utterly terrifying. It filled me with second guessing about my motives: was this pride?

  The response from one of the moderators was utterly amazing. There is always someone monitoring participants comments and posts to answer questions but more importantly, to encourage, affirm and support the changes everyone is making in their lives.

  This is so much more than just a diet, folks, it's about our life's fabric. 

  The moderator's kind and life giving words mended a massive tear in mine.

  She was astounded I've been doing this for eleven years! Not only that, she called it an incredible achievement! 

  What?!

  I'd never thought of it as an achievement, it was simply something I do. 

  If only we could see ourselves as others see us; as God sees us.

  Someone important in my life told me a while back that reading the blog made them upset. My response was that they shouldn't read it then. But, the old niggling guilt, the old need to do anything to make them feel better has tainted what I do here. Not that it's stopped me from being utterly honest but the voice of oppression has been nagging me to be careful about what's written in case it hurts someone.

  On Thursday, I spent time creating postcards around this burden of false responsibility. I thought about the blog and why I think it's important. 

  On top of the postcards, I began to draw post it notes to cover them. There ended up being about twenty or so post its. It was healing to see the poisonous post cards get buried in yellow. This enabled me to realize that what I do here just might be making a difference.

  The one that is the most important of all mended even more tears in the fabric of my soul.

  "Maybe I write because God planted the words in my heart before I was born."

  So, yes, I am proud of what I do here and in the art. They fill my life with jaw dropping amazement and eyes-wide-open awe of what God is capable of doing. He's even using a 59 year old teenage rebel! AMEN!

  PS with a big smile....there's a soundtrack for this adventure! A song from my actual teens...The Parachute Club's "Rise Up"

  

  

  

Cards

  "You hide them in the shelter of Your presence, safe from those who conspire against them. You shelter them in Your presence, far from accusing tongues." Psalm 31:20 

  Did you know women over fifty shouldn't wear sleeveless tops or skirts that are above the knees? You know why? Because arms start sagging. So do knees. Nobody wants to see such ugly body parts. They should be covered out of respect for other's tender eyes and sensitive nature. 

  Did you know teenage girls shouldn't wear sleeveless tops or skirts that are above the knees? You know why? Young men can't handle seeing that much skin therefore it should be covered out of respect for their weakness and sensitive nature. (This falls in line with the concept that a rape victim asked for it because of what they were wearing.)

  Folks, there are some serious issues with these "rules of polite society." It's not that polite at all, is it?

  It's downright awful.

  My ex mother-in-law quoted the first at me many, many times. No matter how hot the day was, she kept her upper arms covered. Her son made sure I knew this was something that was required when I got older.

  But then, he frequently threatened to trade me in for two, twenty year olds when I turned forty.  By forty, I would no longer be attractive or appealing even if my arms were covered. This was his idea of being funny. It took me saying that his old body wouldn't be able to keep up with them before he quit repeating this nasty joke. (I laugh about it now.)

  Forty is when God stepped into my life and got me out of there. To Him, I wasn't replaceable or objectionable. Which leads us to the work I've been doing over the last several days.

  I've been drawing tiny postcards with notes on them. They aren't love notes. 

  It's been a powerful tool for capturing and containing the toxic lessons about everything related to body image and self worth. It ebbs and flows into postcards around personal identity, choices, and the mockery, or disregard for the gifts God blessed me with. I've done three pages so far.

  

  It's not a linear process. I liken it to dropping a deck of cards on the floor. They scatter. Some are face up. Some are face down and hidden until they are picked up to see what's on the other side. It's surprising how many have the same number on them or are of the same suit; how toxic truths tend to repeat themselves through various people, situations and events.

  It's not been easy but has been worth spending the time to draw the postcards; to allow the poison to rise into my awareness. Before the Lord, my heart and mind are an open book.

  Man, I love the power of art when combined with prayer! 

  I finally understand why it's so hard to set goals and intentions. It was something I was never allowed to do unless it coincided with the choices, goals or intentions someone else had for me. On the rare occasion I did make a decision, it was inevitably the wrong one and unsuitable. The postcards revealed conflicting ideas when one goal or intention would be wrong but the opposite options were also wrong. This in particular is what has tied me in knots!

  I have spent my life being told to be thankful for having such strong people in my life to take care of me. But gratitude for relationships where where one person must have all the power is simply another name for chains.

  There's no room for true relationship when one person has the need for utter control and unquestioned obedience. (Read up about Narcissists and Gaslighting if you have time.)

  Just so you know, this is abuse. 

  Run, beloved, run!

  Here's the best part of all. As the postcard images covered the page, I sensed that Cricket is breaking free. This beautiful, intelligent, sensitive, creative and God blessed child is coming into her own now. She's a strong one who has endured much but (smile) we, I, can overcome anything!

  Debts of gratitude have been paid in full a thousand times over. I am done paying. I am done playing the game without being given a full deck.

  

  God is with me as I embrace setting boundaries and rules when it comes to claiming the right to make my own decisions. 

  As for choices, goals and intentions? They are mine to make. If they don't work out? That's okay because there are always other options. Or should I say opportunities? Yah. I like that.

   

  You know something? I can hear the whispers of dreams beginning to form. I can hear desire stirring from it's place in the shadows. Confidence is climbing out of the darkness, too. 

  Oh, Lord, You are creating a monster!!! LOL and AMEN!

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Envisioning Tomorrows

   "My suffering was good for me, for it taught me to pay attention to Your decrees. Your instructions are more valuable to me than millions in gold and silver." Psalm 119:71-72

  One of the aspects for success in the Gina Livy program is setting morning intentions. There's space on the app to check in for morning, mid-day, then again in the evening. Morning and evening intentions can also be shared in the Facebook support group, an amazingly encouraging group of people. 

  Last night I wrote this as my end of day reflection.

  I find myself setting morning intentions that I know will be successful. Part of me thinks it's cheating but then I realize how hard goal setting is for me. If this little bit of practice helps me be bolder and willing to chance a higher goal, any written morning intention is one huge NSV (non scale victory.)!

  It's not that I can't envision anything. It happens all the time when I am in the process of creating something be it in the garden or the workshop. Blank canvasses are painted in my mind long before a brush is dipped in the paint. Although, that process is far more fluid like the writing. In both these cases, I might approach the canvas or the keyboard with an idea but usually end up following along where it leads.

  Before I started my renovations a few years back, hours were spent just standing in the kitchen and picturing what it would look like. It even went so far as to draw out my ideas. It was a nervous time, waiting to see what the finished product would look like. Was it even going to be close to what I had envisioned? It was far better!

  When it comes to envisioning what my life might be like in the future, my stomach gets in knots and my mind does its screaming heebie jeebies. 

  Maybe it's about playing it safe. If I don't dream of the future, it can't be taken away from me.

  Am I using my faith as a cop out? God's plans for my life are a gazillion times better than anything I could imagine so why imagine? Why not simply stay the course and see what those are?

  Yet, He created us with imagination. He created us with desires and hopes. He created us to be in relationship so we can talk to Him about everything. Is it so wrong to exercise these gifts?

  I've listened to other people share their hopes for the future. In a way, I am jealous of their ability, their freedom, their utter bravery to put hope into words.

  Is it that I won't? Or is it that I simply can't?

  Maybe it's that I share any sort of hopes or plans for the future with the wrong people. The kind of people who take great pleasure in tearing my ideas to shreds. The kind of people who get a thrill out of crushing hope. The kind of people who are more focused on what's important to them and have no regard for what I want. The kind of people who make suggestions that more is needed.

  They call it helping.

  That kind of help is like using a tsunami to water flowers.

  I thought my difficulties were the legacy of broken promises and trauma. Sure, that's part of it but that last bit of writing is a huge piece of the puzzle! 

  So how about I envision something small. 

  I envision myself putting boundaries in place to nurture this tiny seed of setting daily intentions. Those boundaries will create a safe space to allow it to grow. Boundaries will provide the time for its blooms to spread into other aspects of my life. Heck, these boundaries will keep the tsunami far from shore!

 

  Forgive me, Lord, for the times I was a tsunami with others' dreams. I am aware now that it has been part of my life and will be mindful because this learned behaviour is not of God.

  Let my life, my words, be a gentle, life-giving rain.

  I ask you, Lord, help me discern who is trustworthy when it comes to sharing my dreams. Strengthen me to maintain the boundaries needed with the people I need to use them with.

  And Lord? Help me dream and hope and plan and want all the good things You have waiting around the corner for me. 

  In Jesus name, AMEN!