James Bond and I both have a license to....

...drive. 

Exciting, no? 

No.

I know.

But naturally, if it involves Jill and being responsible you can bet your 007 there's a story. 

My story started 15 years ago. On August 13, 1998, my driver's license expired. Being Jillish, even then, I decided day after day and week after week that I would make the dreaded trip to the DPS "tomorrow" or "later". 

On or about August 30, 2000, I finally showed up to renew my license. We were two days away from moving to Canada. John and I had been up to Canada a few weeks before and had been unable to rent a car because we BOTH had expired licenses. What can I say? I rub off...

Back to the DPS...because I was 2 YEARS and 2 WEEKS overdue in my renewal, I had to retake both the written and driving portions of the driver's test. For real. No problem, I can handle that. Oops--problem--they had no open appointments to give me a driving test for several days (after we had left for Canada) but hey! I could take the written portion of the test and get a learner's permit issued! 

Which is how I got to be the World's Most Conscientious Driver. After two years of driving with an expired license, I then drove for a couple of extra years with only a learner's permit. Once again, I just couldn't stand the thought of taking all the kids to the DPS, waiting for hours, having to take the driving test, etc. Actually, I did go once and the wait was hours because it was the morning that the commercial driver's license tests were given. 

One lovely day, my mom took all the kids to her house and I decided that I must go take care of this problem, mainly so I could start speeding again. I'm happy to say that I passed my driving exam and was back to being a licensed driver.

When my license was next up for renewal a few years later, I was able to do so online...AND I DID!!!

This year, however, required a trip to the dreaded DPS again. I managed to wait until the afternoon of my birthday to get there but I PREVAILED!

Now, to find an Aston Martin...

Weakness

But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. -- 1 Corinthians 1:27

"The cry of the oppressed, the lonely, and the rejected
is essentially a cry
for recognition, presence, and communion.
Their cry disturbs,
creates fear,
provokes rejection.
But if they are listened to,
they can also awaken the hearts
of the powerful and the wise,
calling them to change,
to conversion;
calling them not just to organize and do things
with generosity
but to enter into communion with them.
As the powerful listen to the cry of love
surging up gently from the oppressed and the powerless,
they can begin to accept and love
the vulnerable child within themselves."
~Jean Vanier

Picture taken by me on my mission trip to Peru two years ago. 

Down Syndrome Screening Process

Luke had a friend spend the night Saturday night and he also came to church with us Sunday morning. This isn't the first time; he's been coming over for years and is an altogether fun kid to have around. I've always suspected he enjoys the chaos of our big family since he only has one brother. 

During the church service, he reached over Vera and me a couple of times to stroke Ella's cheek, then her silky hair as she rested her head on my lap. Ella just looked at him and smiled. 

Vera usually draws during the sermon. Yesterday, she drew pictures of Luke's friend. She showed me with the shy smile of teenaged girls everywhere who might have a little crush on big brother's friend. It was cute to see.

I was out walking this morning, hoping no one caught me with a big smile on my face while thinking about Luke's friend, of many other friends, of family members...when my mind went back to high school, of all things. I never witnessed this happening but every morning before school began, some of the football players would gather in the cafeteria to socialize before the first bell rang. A fellow student with Down syndrome wanted to gather and socialize with them. One morning, the players got the bright idea to pass around a glass and spit in it then give it to the boy with Down syndrome to drink. 

Perhaps he would have, too. I can imagine Vera drinking it, not realizing that anyone would ask her to do something harmful or gross, always believing that people have her best interests at heart. (Guilelessness is part of her charm and I am happy she lives a life that allows her to maintain it.) Fortunately, all those years ago in the school cafeteria one of the football players said no, we aren't going to do that. He took him under his wing and that was all it took. I don't think they continued in their mistreatment of him again.

One thing I've remembered from my earliest readings about raising children with Down syndrome is that the family soon realizes what a great character barometer they are, how they start to rely on the reaction of their child to as a window to the soul of new acquaintances. It goes the other way, too...we watch people's reactions to our children with Down syndrome, to their quirks, to their very existence, and proceed accordingly with the friendship, or not.

My children have effortlessly adopted this way of viewing and evaluating the world. They will always remark on the way kids at church treat Vera, Emma, or Ella. The straightest path to their heart is to treat their siblings well. 

Straightest path to my heart, too.

That's Backwards!

"There's a huge lesson in Special Olympics, and here's the way I see it and express it. There are special athletes on the end line and they're ready to run the 50-meter dash. There's a first place, second place, third place, and then on down to fifth or sixth place. Now they all participate in their own style--all kinds of styles. But in the end, the kid who's last is probably two or three minutes behind the field. And here's this kid, struggling down, who's trying to stay between the lines--he finally gets to the end line. That kid gets the biggest applause, and that's backwards--that's backwards! 

"In Special Olympics, there's a recognition of getting the most out of what you've been given! And I think that's a great lesson of Special Olympics. It focuses on people where they are."

Carl Erskine, former Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher who played in several World Series, and father to Jimmy Erskine, a 50+ year old man with Down syndrome who has a long history of involvement in Special Olympics

My First Adult!!!

I'm not sure how it happened...it was all so quick! One minute, he's a 3.5 year old boy fresh off the plane from Russia; the next minute, he's all grown up and as American as apple pie, as Texan as the Alamo. Remember?

One thing has never changed--he is still stinkin' handsome! Something else has also not changed--we are so proud to have him as our son, so happy God chose to place him in our family as our oldest, so humbled to be allowed to parent him and celebrate him, on this birthday and for all the life events to come. Ok, that was more than one other thing, wasn't it? 

Thank you to his sister, Song, for all the photos from his special day. We always begin our birthdays with decorations and presents and breakfast. This year, Alex went easy on me and asked for muffins...from the bakery. Sounded like a plan to me!

Vera was pouting because Ella wouldn't cooperate. Seriously. It makes her mad! Longtime friends will note we have an extra kid...cousin Drew celebrated with us. 

Alex had fun opening his gifts. He asked for lots of books, which was cool.

Never a shortage of gift-opening supervisors in our home!

His sister, Anna, got him some cool new shades! 

Alex has become a bit of a photographer in his own right, so we had three of his coolest pictures printed on canvas, and they are now proudly displayed over his bed. He was so surprised! That was a fun gift to give! My favorite picture is definitely the one, above, with three sets of his eyes. I love his creativity.

Opening a special gift from his dad.

Trying to decide who the photo bomber is in this picture...Anna, or Alex's eye looming over them both!

I definitely know who the photo bomber is in this picture! 

We celebrated with most of the extended family...Italian food and then Alex asked for Black Forest Cake as his birthday dessert. His grandmother brought one from a bakery in Fort Worth that is famous for them, and his sister Song made one...all from scratch. It was amazing! 

Alex was trying not to blow the chocolate shavings off the bigger cake, hence his interesting angle! a fun time was had by all!

Happy 18th Birthday, Alexander! 

Little Boy Fu

Song got a new lens for "our" camera and took her very cute little brother ((the child fka Fu TianSuo) out for a photo shoot. I love the results. I'm so glad she loves to photograph her siblings for me! 

Fierce, huh? This is our favorite. 

I love how the pictures capture his funny and squirrelly personality. These are all moves he likes to perform during church. With a big white program in his hand. While the sermon is being preached. As we sit on the second row. That's my boy!

He is such a handsome boy. We are blessed to have him as our son, wiggling in church and all.

Cervical spine surgery success--sort of

So, as I mentioned a few days ago, I had surgery. I'm home now. It's been a fun few days. Let me elaborate.

I had a pain pump at the hospital. This turned out to be a mistake for a few different reasons. 

1) shortly after surgery I was in a lot of pain and I *thought* the nurse said she was switching me to a different type of pain med that would be in pill form. Turns out...notsomuch...meaning that I didn't have pain meds at all for quite some time. Fun!

2) once that little debacle was rectified, we were back to my general lack of love for the pain pump, because it only delivers tiny amounts of pain medication at any one time, rather than a decent wallop that knocks you out for a while and moves you on down the road to recovery without your having to be aware of the trip. 

3) which brings us full circle to today. I kept noticing that I had a very sore spot right in the middle of my forehead. I asked John several times if he had any idea why that might be...I had visions of being restrained during the surgery...falling out of the hospital bed...what could it be?

John finally pinpointed the source of my soreness: during one of my rants about the pain pump, I had decided to give that pain pump a piece of my mind, errr, forehead, and used said forehead to deliver just the right amount of pain medicine. Yeah. So that worked. 

As mentioned, I'm home now. Home with Vicodin and Valium and steroids, food from friends, kids, and an Arrested Development marathon. 

Adios pain pump. You may have won round 1, but I'm ready for you next time. I have an extra piece of bone in my neck now with your name on it!

Guest Post--John, my beloved

I have a ministry with a group of men. I recently had a man ask a profound question posed along the lines of a parable. It went something like this. A man loved his son. His son was rebellious. Yet, the father continued to love the son very much. The son did not listen to the advice of the father. The son was thrown into prison. The father visited his son even in prison, though the son wanted nothing to do with him. Yet, the father continued to say that he loved the son.


Here, the parable took a turn. The man looked at me and asked, “How could a loving God ever send His own child to Hell to be tormented forever? What kind of love is that? This is what I don’t understand.”

I remarked that the question was a sound one. I further suggested that I am not sure that I have a complete answer. My answer is incomplete because the mind of God is so far above my mind. I reasoned that the answer is found in the unrelenting revelation of the glory of God and that I have a limited understanding of the underpinning of such glory.

The following is a nutshell of the conversation that ensued in the 15 minutes we spent together. I wish my explanation was better but, as mentioned, I am limited to my human understanding. First, the premise of the question seems backward to me. After all, that son in prison wanted nothing to do with the father. In fact, the son preferred prison over a relationship with the father. Yet, the focus of the question is the perceived negative reaction of the father to the son rather than the choice the son has made to sever his relationship with the father.

Certainly, the father was within his right to completely terminate the relationship that only he was pursuing. The son had proved over and over again that he hated the father and wanted nothing to do with the father. The father could have walked away and allowed the son to enjoy his prison cell forever. That is, the son was choosing his own Hell over a relationship with his father.

Yet, God did not choose to ordain a permanent prison sentence. He continued to pursue the relationship even in the midst of undeserved rejection. This severed relationship could be restored only through a restoration of the righteousness of the one in prison. Why is this? It is because it is impossible for unrighteousness (that is, sin) to dwell with righteousness (that is, God). Therefore, sin must be made righteous or the sinner is forever imprisoned. The prison sentence is a permanently severed relationship.

How is it possible for the rebellious convict to be made righteous and to be set free? It is impossible for the man in prison for he cannot free himself. The walls around his cell are real indeed. Yet the father, though innocent of the crime, saw an opportunity to take the punishment of the crime on behalf of the son. That is the father, instead of terminating the relationship, sought opportunity to pursue and conditionally restore the relationship.

Do you see what happened? God Himself became the prisoner. He was executed for the crime. The criminal (sinner) is set free because the punishment for the crime was paid by Him who is innocent. An innocent creative God of the universe was tormented so that the guilty created of the universe could be set free. This freedom allows the one formerly imprisoned to once again enjoy His God forever. Is this not a perfect example of a loving father?

Further, does this not reshape the original question into the following? “How could God ever send His own Son to Hell on earth to save the likes of us? What kind of love is that? This is what I don’t understand.”

Yet, the original question must be addressed for complete fairness. That son in prison knows that his father is willing to take the punishment of the crime that the son committed, thus enabling the son to be set free. The son, however, scoffs at the father and resolutely determines that he prefers his prison.

So, here is my incomplete answer to the question posed. The love of the father remains pure and unimaginable in the midst of the son’s rebellion. The son’s rebellion is unimaginable, and yet somehow sublimely common, in the midst of the unrelenting love of the father. It is the very hatred wrapped in the rebellion of the son that opens the door to Hell. The son, in effect, smugly sits in Hell because he eschewed the permanent love of the father in exchange for the temporary self-pursuit of the son.



Romans 5:8 – But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

Okonomiyaki

I'm doing it again! Blogging twice in a day? Blogging about food two days in a row? I wasn't even going to prepare these Japanese vegetable pancakes tonight, but...well...I didn't realize the ribs I planned to make needed to sit with the dry rub on them for 12 hours. I discovered this delightful fact at 4 pm. Oops!

Lucky for us, I had already purchased the key ingredients for this delightful dish at the local Farmer's market. Tonight, I went a little bit crazy and took actual pictures of the food as I prepared it...with my phone. Well, I took pictures with my phone. I didn't prepare the food with my phone, although on many nights that would be a good explanation for what I made. 

On to the food, you say? Let's!

First, the vegetables: shaved ribbons of carrots, thinly sliced red onions (substituted for scallions), kale, green cabbage, and baby bok choy (added just because) as pictured, below. Doesn't that look fresh and yummy? I think it would make a great salad with some tomatoes.

To that, I added a cup of gluten-free, all purpose flour because Miss Emma has celiac disease and needs to be gluten free. I tossed the veggies with flour to coat them...not quite as fresh and yummy looking now, BUT...

BACON!!!! No, that wasn't in the original recipe, but...BACON!!! I had six pieces left from the BLT salad last night and decided to use the rest to add a little kick to the veggies. I think this is a must if you have a family like mine, who all think I'm being abusive to them if supper doesn't include meat

.

 

 

Let's detour to my little side dish which is Dean's favorite thing in the world to eat: fruit salad. (I'm using  Blogger's iPad app and can't quite discern any way to change the picture order nor to make a hyper link...)

Back to the pancakes. I added the crumbled bacon. I know you might be confused when you look at the picture below, but that's what I did. Cooked it, drained it on paper towels, crumbled it, put it on the veggies. Still confused? Yeah. I thought not. I am the master of explanations. 

Now,I'm sure I don't need to tell you, my amazing reader, just what happened next. It's immediately obvious that I lightly beat a dozen eggs and stirred them into the veggie/BACON/Flour mixture, right? Sure!

 

This next step was fun...making the sauce to drizzle over the pancakes, NOT the fruit salad. This involved whisking together ketchup, Dijon mustard, Worcester sauce, honey, GF soy sauce, etc... Oh look! It's the web page with a picture of the finished product. Not MY finished product, mind you. I mean, they got pretty close and stuff so let's not be too hard on her. 

Oh look! MY finished product, resting on my well-used stone pan before warming in the oven while I finish the batter.

And on a melamine plate many of you may remember seeing at Target last summer, we have Vera's meal. I mean, not this exact plate, unless you live in my same small town AND read my blog. Hi, Alynn! 

So, did it pass the Spicer test? Indeed! Not a bite was left. The kids said they could taste the veggies, and that was a good thing! I thought the bacon added a lot for such a small amount. The sauce seemed almost like BBQ sauce, so next time I might use more soy sauce and ginger. It was a really easy item to prepare and cook and make gluten-free, so I believe we will do it again!

As noted in the website from which I took this recipe, the combinations for veggies and even meats are almost endless: 

http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2013/05/japanese-cabbage-and-vegetable-pancakes/

For all of you who have made it to the end of my second (last?) cooking blog post (hi, Alynn!), I won't be on for a while because I am having neck surgery (discectomy, etc.) in the morning. I really don't have a sense for how long my recovery might take, so I'll see you on the flip side!! All prayers are deeply appreciated!

 

Small town stories

We live in a smallish town. Not tiny (about 28,000 people) but definitely smaller and much different in feel than the larger city of Fort Worth in which I was raised. 

Because we live on 30 acres, our home has a rural feel, although it is at the end of a neighborhood of homes on about an acre each. 

Vera petting our horse, Hachie.

The "downtown" has some restored buildings that are fun to see and visit.

A cute little restored depot by the train tracks, across from the weekly Farmer's Market that I frequent and where I am well-known by a few vendors. Small wonder, given the large number of people I feed!

Our town is known for its gingerbread houses. We used to live on the same street as this house and the one below. Aren't they adorable? We were renting a much smaller restored home, but it was really great, too.

Yesterday, the small town quality of our town was brought home to me in a new and kind of funny way.

Our dryer has been on the blink for a while. As you can imagine, this is tragic for a family of our size. I had it fixed a few months ago, then the same thing happened again. When it was fixed the first time, the repairman said he thought we would need to have the vent cleaned or it would happen again. So, yeah, he was right.

Ok, who cleans dryer vents? I discussed matters with my brother-in-law, a local doctor. He is the resource for everything local, and is plenty smart besides. He decided to have his newest handyman, Jesus, take his leaf blower and use it to blow out our dryer vent. He messaged me Jesus's number...no last name, so now as I scroll down my contact list it appear as though I have Jesus on speed dial. 

Turns out, Jesus maintains the washers and dryers at the local laundromat, so he was well able to attend to the needs of our dryer. He wasn't planning to come over, though, so he kept having to borrow tools from us. He and his wife had been working at my BIL's house a couple of doors down, a fact that I first learned when he made his wife come down and clean up the mess he made when he blew out the vent--from the attic into my house! It blew around a corner and a good 30-35 feet into my living room! 

I further found it out when he asked to borrow a bike to go get his tools out of his truck. How many times have you had your handyman ask to borrow your bike? Of course, we only had Vera's bike handy! Didn't bother him...

Finally, I found out when he asked me to take him to the appliance shop to get a part because his wife had taken their truck home and it was too close to closing time to wait on her. If I hadn't had to pay for the part, I would have just let him drive my 12 passenger van (Jesus, take the wheeeeeeel). I can assure you, he would have returned it! When we left the shop, he asked me to drop him off at his house so he could get his truck. Seriously. And I did it! Why not? 

So there you have it: life in our smallish town where leaf blowers are community property and doctors are key people to know and Jesus rides your bike.

Y'all come back now, y'hear!

Smashing Supper Success

OK, clearly a pod person has taken over this blog...two days in a row? Really, Jill?

Yes, really, generic blog reader who NEVER COMMENTS ANYMORE.

Not that I'm bitter. I couldn't be...not after making this fabulous supper tonight!

Now, let's just be straight up about the whole business of Jill and cooking and fabulosity: I follow recipes pretty well. I can even tweak and change recipes pretty well. I don't, however, come up with completely new and different recipes, so if you're looking for that you'll need to look elsewhere. Plus, I'm pretty sure no one is here looking for recipes anyway, so we're good. We're good.

So what was this fabulous dinner? Honestly, it was only soup and salad.

The soup? Butternut Squash soup from Southern Living's 2012 Annual Recipes cookbook.

Butternut squash, carrots, slightly carmelized onions, cream, honey, vinegar...yum! Use your stick blender and it's a breeze to get a huge pot of creamy yumminess with a little bit of kick. Spicer kids approved!

The salad? BLT Salad, also from Southern Living's 2012 Annual Recipes cookbook.

Oh my! Salady perfection! Arugula, bacon, heirloom tomatoes, bacon, tangy dressing, bacon, onions cooked in bacon drippings, bacon! The recipe calls for artisan bread slices but I used challah from the grocery store bakery. We otherwise followed the recipe for this, too. Other than Anna, who doesn't like bacon (we don't know where she came from), this recipe was also Spicer kid approved.

So...generic blog reader, if you're like me,the bad blog writer, always in need of supper ideas...here's, y'know...one. Or lunch, if this doesn't seem meaty enough for you and you don't mind taking a really long time to cook lunch. Frankly, I do. Mind, that is. So...supper, for us.

Happy cooking! Happy eating! Happy rare two days in a row of blogging to me!

My daughter

I took the girls to a swimming party today, but Ella wouldn't swim--it was too cold. She let me know the same way she lets me know a lot of things, by signing or pantomime. She still speaks very infrequently. So today at the pool, she wrapped her cute little brown arms around herself and shivered, even as she positioned herself poolside and screamed her displeasure when cold water splashed her again and again. Typical behavior for a kid with sensory issues, I thought to myself for what seemed like the 1000th time.

Eventually, we ended up sharing a chair and I whipped out my phone to capture the moment. Ella enjoyed looking at herself and Mommy in the phone as I snapped our picture, as she saw me mimicking her, as she saw herself hamming it up. We both giggled a lot. When we got home, I had fun making a photo collage and posting it on Facebook.

As I returned to look at it a couple of times, the enormity of it hit me: when she became my daughter, I really had no idea if moments like these would ever happen, could ever happen. When she became my daughter, legally that is, she was so shut down yet combative that her father and I thought her likely to be on the autism spectrum. She simply didn't respond to much of anything. Her deep dark eyes hid her soul rather than revealing it.  

But

Month by month, year by year, she opened up, she blossomed, she became our daughter, emotionally that is. We no longer think she may be on the spectrum but instead realize that her sensory issues at times cause the world to be a difficult place for her to navigate. One thing she consistently and beautifully navigates, however, is her Mommy's heart. She knows now, deeply knows, how loved she is.

So today, when I held up a camera for some self portraits it showed more than I thought it would: it showed a miracle. The pictures show a girl who learned to love and trust and show love and and mirror facial cues when words wouldn't work. Oh, and it showed Ella, too. 

Above all, it shows a mother and a daughter, hamming it up for the camera, arms around each other, laughing in the Texas sun. 

And above all that? Love, pure and simple.

A Pain in The Neck, Fear, and Being Hemmed In

I awakened one recent morning in pain, a familiar pain between my shoulder blade and spinal column. I thought, with my vast storehouse of medical wisdom, that I just needed some muscle relaxers and it would go away. It's worked before; it will work again, right?

Notsomuch.

I graduated to what I call "The Nightmarish Night of Vicodin". I would take one, fall into an uncomfortable sleep for a couple of hours, then awaken to pain that seemed to be increasing. At 6 a.m., after spending most of the night on the couch trying not to wake John (who was recovering from knee surgery), I collapsed on him in a sobbing heap of frustration because I just couldn't escape the increasingly unbearable pain. (We are quite the fun couple these days!) 

That prompted my sweet doctor to prescribe a med for nerve pain (that worked and is still working, thankfully), a steroid  (that didn't help, but made me very happy and chatty), and an MRI. The results of the MRI led me to a neurosurgeon and will soon lead to surgery because my neck is a mess! Actually, one of the biggest concerns is that the tricep on my left side is not working properly and the fingers on my left hand have lost sensitivity--some of them can't feel pinpricks anymore. Weird, huh? Evidently, if you don't get that fixed you could suffer permanent loss of function.

When I saw the neurosurgeon the first time, he naturally went over the results of the first MRI with us. In addition to the bulging discs and intervertebral foraminal stenosis, I also had a mysterious white spot in my spinal cord. He ordered another MRI, this time with contrast dye to rule out a tumor and he was also concerned I might have multiple sclerosis. I was under the impression that those were the only two options, that "everything is fine" was not anything I would ever hear. He had his nurse set up an MRI and an office visit on his next day in the office...five days away.

Can I just say: that was brutal! It felt like an awful sort of Sophie's Choice. Did I want a tumor that may need to be removed from within my spinal cord, possibly leaving me paralyzed for life, or did I want a chronic condition with unexpected twists and turns? 

As we waited for the day of the MRI to arrive, the verses that kept coming to my mind were from Psalm 139. As a mom to kids with special needs, these are familiar verses to me: 

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.Your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. Psalm 139:14-16 

Those are always the verses applied to kids born with things like Down syndrome, and appropriately so, I believe.

The verses of that Psalm that I particularly thought of, however, were 5-6a: 

You hem me in--behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me...

I picture God, my Heavenly Father, surrounding me. Of course, He is always there, isn't He? Still, at certain moments it is wonderful to think of Him as more vividly present, in front of us, around us, behind us, letting nothing into our lives that isn't in accordance with His will for us. It is wonderful to know that for my good and His glory, He brought me to a place where I truly thought my health would be permanently affected and I could be placed into deep dependence on those around me...on Him. 

Yet through those days my greatest comfort came from verse five as I heard God speaking to my frightened heart over and over: 

Jill...I've got your back.

And so He does. The spot turned out to be nothing, but even had it been something I would still know He hems me in, behind and before, because nothing could tear God, our beautifully protective Father, away from us. 

He's got your back, too. 

Two years...80 pounds...wow

I have rarely posted pictures of myself on this blog. I'm obviously not a stickler for privacy. I am simply prideful. I didn't want/need reminders of my failed weight battles. I would much prefer to show pictures of my beautiful children anyway, or so I told myself.

I don't want to post this, but...

I have this longtime online friend named Trish, see? Two years ago, unbeknownst to each other, we started our own weight loss journeys exactly one day apart, April 27th and 28th. She keeps posting her before picture on facebook, reminding others of her 151 pounds lost (seriously!) and inspiring the ladies she LEADS in exercise classes to keep plugging away, to never give up, to just start now. And she puts me to shame.

The thing is, in 2011 I lost 80 pounds and have kept it off ever since then. I love how I feel now. I can't even really put it into words just how great I feel, just how much easier it is to move through the world, to be me, to have an even temper (ok, relatively speaking), to have energy that lasts all day, to exercise and parent and cross my legs and buy clothes and heck...just to walk in heels! I love heels! I love not being controlled by my weight anymore.

I want to pretend I have been this way my whole adult life, but the opposite is mostly true. I want to pretend that I could always get to the top of a staircase without huffing and puffing, but that isn't true, either. I want to pretend that I've had these size 8 jeans for years, and not the size 20 stretchy pants that I wore the last few years as my weight really exploded.

But

As much as I might like it to be, life isn't always and only about me. It might be about one of you, about offering you hope that change is possible. It might be that you and I need to look at my "before" pictures with some love and grace and know that I was covering up some hurts and have now peeled them off...mostly. We need to take an honest look and acknowledge that I wasn't healthy. We also need to take an honest look and see that I am still essentially me. I was funny and sarcastic before...I am funny and sarcastic now. Some things endure.

And because someone will ask, this is how I did it: I had gastric sleeve surgery. Yup. I did. I had weeks of protein shakes, months of high protein/low carb, and 18 months of keeping it off. I'm really proud of those 18 months, matter of fact. I started exercising and kept at it in one way or another. I even ran in my first 5K lately. My son Luke beat me by 7.5 minutes and I don't care...I'm still proud! So maybe I took the easier way out by having surgery, but once the easy part was over I've stuck with the harder part, the maintenance part, the get out there and exercise because now you CAN part.

So

I'm sharing my pictures. Ugh. The two collage pictures span about two months from left to right, starting with the day before surgery (and I had already lost 14 lbs. the week before surgery so I actually looked even worse than the first picture on the left). The next picture (with John) is from about 6 months out, and the rest are from a year to two years post-op. So yeah, I'm laying the weight loss pictures on thick, to make myself feel better, hoping those are the pictures people remember. But honestly, I know better, and I'm sharing it anyway.

Trish, my love, this is for us! Congratulations on two years of working that weight off the hard way, for continuing to inspire me with your workouts, and your tenacity, and your tenderness toward those who are just getting started...knowing we are looking to you as our inspirational rock star!

And...Happy Anniversary!! A workout and a small steak should just hit the spot, right?

Gentleness

Proverbs 15:1 A gentle answer turns away wrath.


I well remember the time this verse saved me. I had taken the kids to a McDonald's PlayPlace (with a jungle theme) after a children's theater performance. The homeschool group's gustatory decision had held sway; my kids wanted to play with their friends! One son was going through a Star Wars phase...and had lost his glasses. The combination created the perfect storm. While in a "hut" he was acting out an epic light saber battle alone...or so his 9 year old, nearly blind self thought.

A 3 year old girl had crawled in to watch this silly boy who was pretending to strike at Sith Lords, but who wouldn't hurt a fly. Her mother, however, didn't know my son and proceeded to start screaming at my son that she would take him out if he touched her daughter, that she knew what jerks men were, and on and on.

I wasn't close enough to realize what was happening, other than to hear screaming, but some of my friends were. They came quickly to let me know and as I walked those few steps the Holy Spirit whispered that verse in my ear. I quietly and calmly got my son out, spoke reassuringly to her very traumatized daughter (traumatized by the mon, I should add), listened to her concerns and calmed her down, gently. She was clearly reacting from a place of deep hurt and fear and a softer gentleness was crucial.


Galatians 5:22-23 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.


Years ago, I took a Beth Moore Bible study about the fruit of the spirit. I have forgotten most of it, naturally, but I have never forgotten her illustration about gentleness. Like most people, I naturally assumed it referred to a soft gentleness, one with as little pain as possible.

She told a story about her daughter with thick, curly, long locks. Her daughter had dutifully brushed her hair daily...well, most of it. At the nape of her neck a giant tangled ball had formed without her daughter having noticed because the parts she could see looked fine. Having a daughter with such hair myself, I have seen this happen before. It's like a huge dreadlock has formed and it starts to irritate the scalp under it, to pull it, to hurt even.

When Beth became aware of the problem, she gave her daughter a choice: cut it out or work it out? Her tender-headed daughter chose to have her mom try and untangle this giant mess. Beth picked up a comb and started. It was painful. Tears were shed. I don't remember how long it took, but a substantial amount of time was required to restore her hair to its proper disposition.

In this story I see a stronger gentleness, the type that says I will use my own muscle, my own patience, my own time to tease out, smooth out each tangled strand in your life. This is a gentleness that says I know it seems easier to cut out the difficult parts of your life, but I know that if you're willing to go through pain and tears, your life can be restored and when it is, you'll be stronger for having submitted to gentle care.

So how do you know when to give a gentle answer and when to untangle? I believe the answer lies in relationship, in love. I didn't have to love the angry woman to give her a gentle answer that would keep her from trying to hurt me or my child. Beth, however, loved her child enough not to leave her in the state she was in.

As adoptive parents we know this gentleness. We know we can't leave our children in the state they were in, that we must lovingly, with power and conviction and above all gentleness, straighten the tangled messes hiding in places that were inaccessible to them.

Philippians 4:5 Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.

Joyful dance

I think to Live — may be a Bliss

To those who dare to try —

Beyond my limit to conceive —

My lip — to testify —

I think the Heart I former wore

Could widen — till to me

The Other, like the little Bank

Appear — unto the Sea —

I think the Days — could every one

In Ordination stand —

And Majesty — be easier —

Than an inferior kind —

No numb alarm — lest Difference come —

No Goblin — on the Bloom —

No start in Apprehension's Ear,

No Bankruptcy — no Doom —

But Certainties of Sun —

Midsummer — in the Mind —

A steadfast South — upon the Soul —

Her Polar time — behind —

The Vision — pondered long —

So plausible becomes

That I esteem the fiction — real —

The Real — fictitious seems —

How bountiful the Dream —

What Plenty — it would be —

Had all my Life but been Mistake

Just rectified — in Thee

--Emily Dickinson