Getting Fit Fridays–Start Me Up

It has been a while.

I find that life has a way of getting away from me and if I don’t lasso it in every once in a while, I would probably never get a single post written!

Life has gotten away from me in more ways than one…heck, in about 15 different ways. But today, I will address only one of those ways. Today I will address that life long battle of the bulge.

Something you may not know about me, especially some of the newer readers, is that I am a lifetime member of Weight Watchers (WW). If you are not clear about what that means, let me explain. Quite a few years ago now, I lost weight with WW, reached my “goal weight” and then maintained it, within 2 pounds, for six weeks, at which time I was awarded Lifetime status. I then went to WW and weighed in once a month, and if I remained within 2 pounds of my goal weight, I did not have to pay the fee. Never mind that I am now 60 pounds overweight; I still hold my lifetime key. See, they can never take it away from you…they can just make you pay.

But I digress.

Not only was I a Lifetime member of WW, but I also took a job with WW, as a weigher/receptionist. I was the happy face that greeted you, took your money and weighed you, among other things. I loved it. I loved being a cheerleader for others and I needed the accountability of maintaining my weight. It was, most definitely, a win-win.

Then, we moved. Halfway across the country.

And my eating and exercising habits went all to heck.

And I proceeded to blow up.

And occasionally, over the last 5 1/2 years, I would make a somewhat feeble attempt at getting back on the wagon and would fail. Always.

For the better part of the last 2 years, I have simply given up. Not tried at all. Not cared what I ate or that I did not exercise at all. I’m sure there is some really messed up reason behind all that, but I couldn’t begin to tell you what it is. No doubt I need some therapy…

But recently, I started caring again. I just don’t feel very well. I feel tired. And I am tired of having hurty feet and creaky knees and a bulging midsection.

And then, recently, I saw my butt in some pictures that were taken over the Christmas holidays.

YIKES! is all I can say. No, DOUBLE YIKES!! is more appropriate.

You know, it isn’t often you get a view of yourself from behind. It was downright scary!

And in the interest of full disclosure, here’s proof:

But even though I was caring, I still felt paralyzed. Like I knew I would fail before I could start. I wanted to start, but just couldn’t make myself. And I have prayed and asked for God’s help to somehow dig out of this hole.

Then, I got a phone call. A truly divinely inspired phone call.

My friend, Cris, who blogs at hiddenbeloved, called me one day earlier this week, and extended an invitation to me. An invitation that was the swift kick in the ever-enlarging booty that I needed in order to say, YES, I can do this—if you will do it with me.

I want to be around for my kids. I want to be fit. But I cannot do it alone.

So we met up yesterday, Cris and I. We did our first weigh-in together,  prayed together and committed to encourage each other and keep each other accountable. It is time to put the failure and shame behind and get going. No more excuses.

This morning I went for a walk. I am on my way.

Thank you, Cris, for being obedient to the prompting to call me and ask me to be your buddy on this journey. I am so grateful.

“When you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.” ~Will Rogers

Getting Fit Fridays is going to appear (hopefully) weekly to chronicle my journey and increase my accountability. Do you need to get back on the wagon? Do you need some help and encouragement? Join with me, if you’d like. Let’s encourage each other. We can do this—together.

For when you don’t know what to say.

I have started, stopped, deleted, and restarted this post about 15 times. I’ve wanted to write, but my heart has felt so heavy and I just didn’t know what to say or if I should even say anything at all…not everyone wants their business put out on the internet, you know. But here it is.

The last two and a half weeks have felt like some kind of a weird whirlwind, a roller coaster, a strange dream…just insert whatever analogy you can dream up that applies to experiencing the heights of joy and the depths of sorrow in a matter of hours.

We had a beautiful Thanksgiving with family and then I went for a fun weekend of shopping in Atlanta with my sister-in-law and another friend a week after that. All of that falls into the joy category.

Then I got the text, at 7 o’clock on Sunday morning a week ago now. Call me when you get up—was all it said. Very unusual for my friend to text me at that time. I knew something was wrong.

I got up then, at 7, on the morning I was to return from my shopping trip. I called her. On the other end of the phone was my precious friend, my sister, my best friend for almost 30 years, telling me the devastating news that her sweet Daddy had passed away unexpectedly.

The sorrow.

I was dumbfounded—still am, really. Chatty girl that I am, I was at a loss for words. I did not know what to say. I sat there and wept for my friend, for her kids, for her mom, for myself and in my shock was only able to say to her, “I’m so, so sorry.” and “I love you.”

Somehow it just didn’t feel like enough. When you get news like this, there is always this inexplicable need to do something. To help carry your loved one’s grief in some way.

But do what?

In that moment, I could only try to imagine her pain and foggily try to process this information and then feebly try to convey my deep love for her and her family. But truly, all I really wanted to do was get in my car and go to her—two states away at the time—and hug her so tight. Fortunately, a couple of days later, I was able to do just that. Unfortunately, my time with her was so brief. Oh, but I am so grateful that I was able to go, even for a short time.

My heart is suddenly keenly aware of those who go through this season with sorrow and hurt and loss. You know, those things that you never really get over, but somehow learn to live with. And though I know that, as believers, we do not grieve for our loved ones as those who have no hope, grief is hard. Loss is devastatingly sad and painful. And grieving while at the same time trying to get back to the business of living can be elusive. We need each other’s help to do that. We need each other so much.

And so, when I don’t know what else to say or do, I sit, I weep, I hug, I text, I send a card. I try to make my friend smile. I wait to see if she wants to talk or cry or not talk at all.

I pray. And pray some more.

And I say “I’m so sorry” and “I love you.”

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18 NASB

Hot Tea, Warm Friendship. Day 15

On the heels of my tea lament of the other day, today I have to give a public shout out to my new friend, Coreyanne. She is the one who inspired me to get back on that liquid gold. She has come to the rescue! Not only did she tell me that she had the tea for me, but she also made me some and then delivered it to me this morning at the homeschool co-op, already sweetened and ready for consumption! And in an adorable little thermos, no less—see the photo. Cute, right? And all British and stuff to boot!

Nectar, I tell you! Sweet, golden nectar. I owe you, girl!

Kind, thoughtful gestures, like Corey’s, are precious. And though it may seem like a small thing, it meant a lot to me.

I am so thankful for the people that God has so graciously placed in my life.

The one who has listened to me nearly every. single. morning. for the last 5 years during our routine morning phone call.

The ones at the homeschool co-op who teach my son.

The one who, when I was a tired, stressed out young mom with little ones, was further down the road of life and mentored me during a tough time.

The ones who meet me for coffee or tea and chat and chat and chat—and who don’t seem to be offended by my incessant chattiness. (Thanks for that, y’all!)

The one who is such an incredible prayer warrior and who laughs at the crazy stuff I say.

The ones whom you meet and right away, BOOM!, there is that Soul Sister connection.

The one who first said to me, so gently and lovingly, “Have you ever noticed….” about Jacob and then walked beside us as we went through the testing process, because she had lived it too, with her own son.

The one who, without fail, always has such a kind, encouraging word to say to me.

The one who knew me during the awkward high school years and how, since then, we have stayed in touch, however sporadically, and when we have the fleeting opportunity to reconnect, it’s as if we see each other every day.

The ones, new and old, who give so much—big and small—to me and my family.

These are my people! I count them all as blessings. Every day.

“Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble. Likewise, two people lying close together can keep each other warm. But how can one be warm alone? A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken.” ~Ecclesiastes 4:9–12 (NLT)