Better Together

This post is a part of the Five Minute Friday link up. We write for just 5 minutes on a one-word prompt, without heavy editing, and see what happens. Today’s word is “accountability.”

A little more than a year ago, I got fed up with where I was, once again, with my weight. Several years previous I had successfully lost nearly 30 pounds after getting back into riding my bike faithfully every day and watching what I ate, but age and adrenals had caused a gain that had me frustrated.

But I needed help to get back on track.

It never worked to have my husband, who is much more active than I am and can eat copious amounts without suffering adverse effects, try to encourage me. I never took it the right way.

And then one day during the pandemic lock down I was touching base with a church friend who is a personal trainer. I don’t even remember how the subject came up. But I must have told her about my struggle.

“Let me help you!” she said.

And so I finally agreed. She gave me workouts to do at home, helped me track my food, and generally kept me accountable to do what she suggested.

I was so successful in my gains (not weight this time!) that my 18-year-old daughter, who has long struggled with lack of energy, weight gain, and a general malaise, wanted to join me.

And so we hired our friend Christine to come once a week and work personally with Morgan. Now, a year later, she has lost more than 40 pounds, I don’t even know how many pants sizes, and has gained a confidence that has made her blossom and feel so much better about herself. It has also given her empathy for others who have struggled with their health.

It wasn’t all about the weight, though obviously losing the excess has made her feel so much more healthy. It was about energy, the proper functioning of her body, and the knowledge that you know, I can actually do this! That is probably the most encouraging change of all. It has given her the confidence to take on other challenges knowing she has what it takes to do the hard things.

Accountability, in whatever form it can take, makes a huge difference.

You Have Permission to Breathe

This post is a part of the Five Minute Friday link up. We write for just 5 minutes on a one-word topic without any heavy editing. Check it out.

Last weekend I went on a short getaway with a group of friends. I didn’t leave behind any meals, I didn’t leave any instructions for the care of any of the pets or the house or chores or anything. I packed my car, picked up one of the ladies, and off we went with the top down in my convertible Mustang.

And it was glorious.

The 7 of us, more of us friends for more than 20 years, had never done a girls weekend before. Though we “talk” through Messenger several times a day, and most of us get together weekly to pray with others for our kids, we had never had a time that was just about us.

We rented an Airbnb, ate good food planned and prepared by the one who most enjoys doing that, did a fun craft together, laughed, talked, kayaked on the lake, got very little sleep, and watched the rain.

What we didn’t do was feel guilty about being away. I got a few texts from my husband about some issues with our pool; I texted my daughter once asking what she ended up making for dinner, and she reprimanded me by telling me to go be with my friends. Which I was. I just wanted to connect for a moment I guess.

It was a pleasure. And it was a privilege I know not everyone can afford. And it was a necessity. We actually physically needed to be together. To reconnect in person. So little of that had been done in the pandemic year.

Jesus gives you permission to breathe. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28-29, ESV).

We Are Family

This post is a part of the Five Minute Friday link up. We write for just 5 minutes on a 1-word prompt without heavy editing, and see what happens. Today’s prompt is “hospitality.”

Once upon a time I took a spiritual gifts test which determined that I had the gifts of administration and hospitality. Being fairly young in my journey with Jesus, I didn’t completely know what that meant, but I did know that I was pretty organized and good at keeping things going, and that I liked to be with people.

Is that all there was to it?

As the years have gone by, my home has become one in which people like to gather. It’s not huge, it’s not fancy, it’s not even all that clean (I had a friend describe it as clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy), but people are welcome and they know it.

Every Christmas we have a huge gathering of friends for Christmas dinner. At last count we were at 50-something, I think. I have people call and say, “We don’t have plans, can we come to your place?” Even when the number seems overwhelming, nobody is turned away. Most of us have moved far from our family of origin, so our friends have become that family to us.

Every time that I think about maybe scaling back and tightening our circle, I look around at the faces and there’s not a one I would consider losing. How do you purposefully cut off a hand or a foot?

And so we continue setting tables on the back porch, thankful for the mild December weather in Florida, and rejoice in the bounty of our friendships.

 

What Do You Mean It’s Not All About Me?

This post is a part of the Five Minute Friday link up. I write for 5 minutes on a one-word prompt with no heavy editing. Today’s word is “convenient.”

It’s very rarely “convenient.”

I’m very selfish with my time.

But I made the commitment to say “yes” more often to the things my kids want to do. Of course, I only have one kid still at home full time, but there are many other daily decisions that poke at that idol of convenience that I wrestle with every day.

I watch my 1-year-old grandson for his parents when they go to work in the evenings 5 days a week. It’s not convenient to have my days interrupted, but there’s no higher use of my time than helping to raise this tiny image bearer of God.

My daughter does not yet have her drivers license, so if she desires to go clothes shopping or anywhere else that isn’t within reasonable walking distance, I am on the hook for taking her there. Her timing isn’t always convenient for what I want to do, but I know that I won’t always have the responsibility and I treasure the time we can spend together.

Sometimes I have friends that need a favor which could look like picking up one of her children at school if she’s running behind or is with another child on the other side of town. Or maybe it’s the use of a car if hers is in the shop. Or maybe it’s visiting her in the hospital. The list goes on and on.

True, these things are rarely “convenient,” but, honestly, it’s not all about me.

Shocking, I know.

Each daily interruption is a chance to affect the lives of those around me. And that’s what really matters in the end.

 

Sweet Surprise

For my 30^th birthday, my husband threw me a surprise party. We went out to dinner and were just planning on going home and hanging out. This was before we had kids, just 9 months after we had gotten married and 4 months after we had moved to Florida from my home state of California. Needless to say, my stress level was very high, even though some of those events were good ones. Like the getting married part.

When we got to our apartment, I was met with a sweet group of friends all gathered to celebrate my day. It was truly a surprise, which is often hard to pull off, and a lovely reminder of how much I am loved.

Those kinds of surprises are great. Others, not so much. Like when your favored team loses to a major underdog in the surprise performance of the century (looking at you Virginia). I don’t like those kinds of surprises.

C.S. Lewis wrote a book back in 1955 titled Surprised by Joy, which tells the story of his conversion to Christianity. Although he says it’s much less a chronology of events than it is a look at his life as only C.S. Lewis can tell it.

Surprise. Something unexpected.

I remember when my kids were little and I wanted them to keep a secret about something, like a gift for someone, I would tell them it was going to be a surprise rather than a secret, because I wanted to ensure that they didn’t keep secrets. I knew the stories of abuse that have happened with a relative who would tell a vulnerable child that this behavior would be their secret. They weren’t ever to keep secrets from us.

But surprises are meant to be fun. I like to think of them as good. I think that’s what Lewis found as he came up with the name for his book. He was an atheist. He didn’t know what he would find when he turned back to God. Joy was unexpected.

In some cases, we may wonder why we are surprised at the things God does. We ask Him to provide, and He does it. Sometimes it’s not in the way we expect, so we can call that a surprise, but not the fact that He does it.

It’s not the same as being startled.

It’s different than being shocked.

Some people don’t like surprises, and if I had to guess, I would say that it’s because it takes a modicum of control away from them. Just tell me what’s going to happen already. I want to know what to expect.

But that’s where trust comes in.

I’m not in charge, and if I allow myself to be surprised, I might just be blessed by a God who wants to give me all good things.

Like C.S. Lewis and joy.

 

images from tonnerdoll.com; nameberry.com; crosswalk.com