I did something today that I said I would never do… I got contact lenses.  My husband, Jeff, has worn contacts since his senior year in high school.  My son, Jason, has worn them since 4th grade.  I, on the other hand, have always sworn that I could “never, ever put those things in my eyes.”  Hmmmm…apparently the old adage “never say never” has some merit.

For the record, I have always had 20/10 vision.  (That’s when you can read the line at the bottom of the chart that you’re not supposed to be able to read.)  I remember everyone saying to me “wait until you turn 40, your vision will be the first thing to go.”  I always thought to myself “yeah, right.”  Imagine my dismay when the day arrived that I could no longer see to write things on the calendar, or hold books far enough from my eyes to focus…

I remember distinctly going to the eye doctor at 42, and wondering if I would be getting glasses for the first time in my life. (Oh, yeah, I did have glasses at some point in my childhood because I kept getting headaches.  I hated them and refused to wear them, although I do believe I still have those ugly things somewhere.)   For the first time, I began to feel my age.  Neither the big “3-0” nor the bigger “4-0” had been troublesome for me.  (Except when Jeff’s Mom commented that I was now “middle-aged.”  I was not pleased.  Wasn’t middle age 55 or 60?  It was then pointed out that most people do not live to be 110 or 120.)

My eye exam went well until I explained to the eye doctor the reason for my visit — my arms weren’t long enough anymore.  The doctor laughed and gently explained that as the eyes “mature” (I think he was trying to be kind), we develop presbyopia or “short arm syndrome.”  Put simply, the eyes’ ability to focus diminishes.  He also explained that while Jeff and Jason have myopia, which is nearsightedness, I have hyperopia, or farsightedness.  As we get older, our farsightedness gets worse, and eventually we can’t do close work without proper magnification.

Thus, my days of reading glasses began.  It started innocently enough, I just needed readers with +1.25 magnification.  Nine years later, both the strength of the readers and the sheer number of them in the house, have multiplied.  I have them all over….at the computer, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the living room, and even in my purse for when we go out to dinner.  (It helps if you can read the menu.)  I began to realize that life is too short to be forever searching for a pair of reading glasses…

Ironically, my younger son, Joshua, and I are both farsighted.  At his recent eye doctor appointment, I found myself making an appointment for myself.  When filling out my paperwork, I checked the box for “need new glasses” and completely ignored the box for “need new contacts.”  That was just not an option for me, I reasoned, as I can’t even put eye drops in my own eyes.  I would have to cave and do as Jeff has suggested for the past several years:  “Just put your glasses on when you get up in the morning, and leave them on!”

So here I sat again in the eye doctor’s chair, awaiting the grim news.  Indeed, my eyes had reached the point that I needed a “multifocal” lens to correct all of my vision issues.  The distance vision has gotten even more “distant,” I crane my neck to see the computer screen with my “middle” vision and, of course, I’m practically blind up close.  Then came the big question:  “Are you interested in trying multifocal contact lenses?”  Bemused, I heard myself respond with a tentative “maybe.”

Fast forward to today:  I had my contact fitting appointment this morning at 9:30am.  I didn’t even tell Jeff that I was going in case I wasn’t able to get the things in my eyes.  I was filled with trepidation and something akin to excitement.  If I could do this, I would never have to go in search of a pair of glasses again, and I would have countless extra minutes every day.  Dr. Sweitzer is such a nice guy, and easy on the eyes, too.  (Literally and figuratively!)  He was able to get the contacts in first try.  He then rechecked my vision, removed the contacts and took me to another room to put them in myself.

Fortunately, his able bodied assistants were up to the task of helping me learn to put contacts in my eyes.  It took more time than I hoped (almost an hour), but I was determined.  And besides, I wasn’t allowed to leave the office until I could put them in, take them out and put them back in again.  My apologies to the ladies, but by the time I got both contacts in, I had made up my mind that I was only taking one out and putting it back in.  If I could do that, I was good to go.  And I did!  Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?  Wait…did I just call myself old?

As all Star Trek devotees know, the mission of the Starship Enterprise was “To boldly go where no man has gone before…”  Last night, it was also the theme for the celebration of my cousin’s husband, Jerry Shoap, as pastor of the Hanover Church of God for the past 25 years.  As anyone who knows Jerry would expect, this was no ho-hum event.  It was truly a party celebrating a man who I learned last evening, was not the church’s first, or even second, choice for their new pastor 25 years ago.  But he was God’s choice.  And through Jerry’s faithfulness, God was able to use that young rebel with a cause to boldly go…to rebuild His church in Hanover, Pennsylvania.

Just traveling to the event was a heart-thumping adventure.  Yesterday’s glittering snowfall, while gorgeous, caused treacherous road conditions for those who ventured out mid to late afternoon.  The 40 mile trek took a harrowing 90 minutes, but was well-worth the effort.  Upon arrival at the church’s new facility built in 1997, I was amazed (but not surprised) at the sheer number of people who were gathering to celebrate Jerry in spite of the Winter weather.

In true Jerry style, he was more than a little embarrassed by the lengths his congregation had gone to honor him.  Collectively, we laughed and cried as we watched the scenes of his life flashing on the screen behind the stage, and listened to countless individuals and groups share loving tributes to a truly great man of God.  While deflecting the praise, he was visibly touched by the accolades of those who love him.  I was inspired as I sat there last night.  As our boys’ Godfather, Jerry is a beloved part of our family, but I never really saw him as those he serves see him.  Over the course of the evening, I came to realize what a huge impact Jerry has had for the Kingdom of God.

I must also admit to being challenged as I sat there.  Convicted even.  On this day, I would not want to meet God and have to answer for the way I’ve ignored the gifts He has given me to use for Him.  But as we continued to praise God for His servant Jerry, a new thought took hold.  I could be one of those whose life was changed because of Jerry’s faithful service.  Starting right now, I could recommit my life to serving others, and being the person God has called me to be.  I could start anew with my writing, and share God’s hope with those who are lost and hurting.

I learned last evening that Jerry’s motto over the years has been “Just one more…”  Just one more person touched by God’s love, just one more soul won for eternity.  What a legacy!  And my life is not over yet…as long as I have breath in my body, God can use me for His Kingdom.  So in the words of Ray Boltz, I want to say to Jerry…  “Thank you for giving to the Lord, I am a life that was changed.  Thank you for giving to the Lord, I am so glad you gave.”

Has your mother ever said to you “don’t say it if you don’t mean it?” Well, I’ll go one better:  Don’t PRAY it if you don’t mean it. Let me explain…

One of my favorite new songs by Toby Mac is entitled “Steal My Show.” Every time this song comes on, I turn the sound the whole way up, close my eyes and sing at the top of my lungs with my face lifted to Heaven. (When I’m not driving, that is!)

The chorus of the song especially resonates with me: “If You wanna steal my show, I’ll sit back and watch You go. If You got somethin’ to say, go on and take it away. Need You to steal my show, can’t wait to watch You go.” I really mean that part — I really do wanna watch Him go!

Then the bridge continues…”My life, My friends, My heart, It’s all Yours, God.” Sounds good so far… “Yep, Take it away, My dreams, My fears, My family, My career. Take it away. Take it away. It’s all Yours, God. Take it away. Take it away.”

So it gave me pause this morning when that song came on again.  I turned it up as usual, and since I was home alone at the time, I sang at the top of my lungs…until I got to the bridge. “Take it away?” Oops, did I really say that? I guess I really didn’t mean that part, ’cause when He took my mobility, I wasn’t very happy. “It’s You I wanna live for, So take it away.” It’s all fun and games until somebody gets hurt – in this case me!  I want all of the good things God has to give, but I don’t want Him taking anything (or anyone) away.

And yet, one of my favorite Bible verses says “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:21 RSV) And a worship song I loves echoes this verse:  “He gives and takes away, He gives and takes away, My heart will choose to say, Lord, Blessed be your name.” But, in truth, do I mean that when I sing it?

The reality is that I do mean it for the things that have happened in the past. I can look back now on the hardest parts of my life (losing my brother at 23, for example) and realize that God had a better plan, that He knows what’s best. And I’m trusting God for the future — I KNOW His plans are better than mine! But in the present, well, that’s more difficult.

“God is good, all the time!” In Christian circles, that is our mantra. But sometimes it doesn’t SEEM like God is treating us very nicely and we question His goodness. Don’t worry — He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t want zombie followers, He wants followers who love Him with everything they have.

Which brings us back to Him stealing my show. I told Him to, and He did it! I can pout all day or I can ask what He wants from me during this time of forced inactivity.  And He has told me! He has given confirmation through at least 3 others in my inner circle that He wants me to use this time to write. Write! Something I always long for time to do, but never have or take the time for…

So, what is it He wants to tell you? What gift has He given you that you aren’t using? What show of yours does He want to steal? The beauty of God’s economy is that when He takes something from us, it’s for our own good. And in the end, He gives us so much more than we could ever ask or imagine! (Yes, that’s a paraphrase of another Bible verse.)

So, it’s time. Time for me to use the gift that God has given me and simply write…for Him!

Have you ever heard the saying “Life is what happens while you’re making other plans?” Well about ten days ago, I was all ready to write a new blog about my recent travels. I had come to the conclusion that traveling gives a renewed perspective on the concept of home, and I was excited to expound upon that. And then life intervened…

While hosting a dessert and fireworks evening for our family, we had an unexpectedly abrupt end to the festivities. A fall out the front door of our home brought my first ambulance ride to a local ER, and concluded the next day with surgery to repair two broken bones in my lower right leg. I am now at the mercy of my caregivers.

To say that I’m struggling with this situation would be putting it mildly. Everyone has been wonderful, and they are doing a great job taking care of me. The problem is I don’t WANT to need help with every little detail of my life! Those who know me well know how independent I am. “I can do it myself” was probably the most oft repeated phrase of my childhood. And inwardly I still feel the same as an adult.

So what is God trying to show me in this situation?

Perhaps, first and foremost, is that I need to slow down. Not that I have a choice right now, but I can admit that most days my life is just a contest to see if I can keep all of the plates spinning in mid-air without dropping any. To say they all came tumbling down last Sunday night would not be an exaggeration.

As I sit here chafing against the necessity to rest and allow my body to knit itself back together, my mind is in turmoil. I’m a “take charge” kind of person, and having to wait for others to do what I can’t is excruciating. So I guess patience would be another one of the things God is trying to help me with…

And let’s not forget humility. Perhaps the most difficult part of this entire situation for me is being helpless. As I shared with a friend last evening, I don’t do “helpless” well. I like to be the helpER and I am not used to needing help. Is this a pride issue? I never thought so before now, but I’m having to readjust my thinking about a lot of things lately. The Bible says that “Pride goeth before the fall.” I  just didn’t realize the “fall” could be literal – ugh.

Finally, my mantra of “Home Sweet Home” has turned into something altogether different now that I can’t leave! The conclusion of my unwritten blog last week was that home is not a specific address, but rather it is being with those we love. I would now add that the address we call home can become confining when we are stuck there!

As always, perspective is everything. All of this will be but a memory in a few months, and I hope that when I look back on these days of confinement that I will have taken the time to rest and pray, read and write…and not just whine.

Motivation.  It’s hard to come by and even harder to share.  There are a few of us, among millions, who are great motivators.  The rest of us are left shaking our heads, either at our inability to motivate ourselves or someone else.  

Looking back over my years as a parent, I realize that there is very little we can do to motivate someone who doesn’t want to be motivated.  I learned the hard way that neither rewards nor punishment will motivate a “strong-willed” individual.  Unfortunately, there is not a weak-willed individual to be found in our home!

So if we can’t motivate others, how on earth are we going to motivate ourselves?  I often think of my Mom saying “we all have to do things we don’t want to,” and I have repeated this many times to my children.  Now they repeat it back to me.  (You know what they say about payback.)  But I’m not so sure anymore about the validity of that statement.  There are those around us who seldom, if ever, do anything they don’t want to.  How does that work?

Moms do not have that option.  We perpetually straighten up rooms that we didn’t tear apart, clean up disgusting messes we didn’t make, and do load after load of laundry that doesn’t belong to us — and that’s only when our children are toddlers!  It’s not that we resent these chores (or maybe, sometimes, we do), but it’s more that we look around and wonder why.  Why is it me cleaning the kitty litter for two cats I didn’t even want?  Answer:  So they don’t pee on the pile of clean clothes in the laundry basket and make more work for yeah, you guessed it — me!

But back to my original question:  Where does the “want to” come from?  The desire to rise to the challenge and see something through to completion.  I’ve asked myself that many times, especially lately.  And finally, in a book titled “Made to Crave,” I’ve found an answer:  It comes from God.

The premise of the book is very simple:  We are made to crave…something.  And that craving can only be met by God.  Oh, we’ll try to stuff all sorts of things inside that “God-shaped space,” but none of them will satisfy.  Not food, not shopping, not alcohol…nothing. Another author, Beth Moore, put it succinctly:  “All excess is rooted in emptiness.”

I’ve read Lysa TerKeurst’s book, “Made to Crave”, cover to cover.  It is heavily highlighted and completely dead on.  Why then, has it not changed me or my attitudes or my actions?  It is in re-reading it that I have found the little nugget that holds the key to my motivation:  “Shallow desires produce only shallow results.  I had to seek a spiritual ‘want to’ empowered by God Himself.”

Yep, my desires are shallow — to be thin again.  To wear all the smaller clothes in my closet.  To not feel self-conscious when I walk out the front door.  All shallow.  None of them enough to give me the “want to” to tackle the problem.  I have all the tools I need, I just need the motivation.  “Getting healthy isn’t just about losing weight.  It’s not limited to adjusting our diet and hoping for good physical results.  It’s about recalibrating our souls so that we WANT to change — spiritually, physically, and mentally.”  (Emphasis mine.)

So, here I stand at a precipice, ready to jump or not.  How badly do I want this?  Enough to cry out to God every day?  Every moment?  God can give me the strength — just enough with Him on my side — so I “want to” make healthy choices.  But as always, it’s up to me…

Nothing kills your motivation to exercise quicker than an injury or two. Take for example, my knee. For the past year or so, it’s been questionable at best. Early last year, before my older son left for the Marine Corps, I purchased a like-new elliptical machine from a friend who was downsizing for a very reasonable price. I was thrilled, as this is my absolute favorite form of cardio.

Fast forward a few months…Jason is off to boot camp and my new elliptical has been ensconced (after a bit of havoc getting it up the stairs and around the corner) in his room. I excitedly test out the programs and turn on my iPod. I’m ready to rock and roll. That is until my knee starts to hurt a little. And then progressively over the next few days, it hurts more and more. Soon, it starts to go out on me when I’m going down the steps or even across the yard. Not completely — I don’t fall down or anything, but it lets me know that it’s not happy about supporting my weight anymore. Ugh. I stop using the elliptical and the pain diminishes over time, although the weakness remains.

As I am wont to do with minor aches and pains, I basically ignored it after that.  (I didn’t exercise, it didn’t hurt.)  At least until it really started aching from all my sitting, standing, sitting, standing that tax season requires. It was then that I discovered a lump behind my knee. This sent me scurrying to the doctor. The diagnosis? A Baker’s Cyst — a sack of fluid caused by inflammation in the knee. Just lovely. My only option was to take an anti-inflammatory and baby the knee to get through tax season. Later — if it wasn’t any better — I would have an x-ray to see what was going on.

In the meantime, I developed a burning pain above my left shoulder-blade. This has been a recurring issue from the past couple of tax seasons, so at the advice of my doctor, I started using muscle relaxers on top of my anti-inflammatory. Did I mention that I turned 50 in February? Yeah, it all goes to “hell in a handbasket” about that time!  As we closed the book on tax season (at least for me), the pain in my shoulder was bordering on severe.  After another call to my doctor, and I was headed for x-rays of the knee, shoulder and cervical spine. I was completely irradiated — it’s a wonder I didn’t glow as I walked out of the radiology office.

Long story short, I’m now in physical therapy three days a week for the meniscus in my left knee, and for two compressed discs in my neck. What’s the upside of all this? I’m exercising again! And my knee is rapidly improving. My neck is responding a bit more slowly, but it is also getting better.  Physical therapy, besides helping with my pain and mobility, has been a blessing. My therapist is a lovely young woman who has great hands, and provides a combination of massage and traction therapy for my neck after I do the exercise part. Then I get to lie in a dark, quiet room with heat and stimulation on my neck, and cold on my knee for 15 minutes. I told Josh it’s like a gym and a spa combined! And it’s just what I needed after tax season.

God saw me struggling and, as He so often does, brought it to a screeching halt. And then He brought me healing. Not just healing for my body, but healing for my spirit, and my stressed out mind.  And thank God, I’m back on a healthy path again.  I even walked to therapy this morning — 1.3 miles each way. It was glorious!!  The sun was shining, and the air was cool and sweet with the scent of myriad blooms along the way. Thank you, God, for bringing me to the end of myself, and then lifting me back onto my feet again. I am truly blessed!

The past weeks are a blur of paper and people.  Tax returns and clients all run together, and I couldn’t count the number of times I ran out of paper clips, #10 envelopes or address labels.  Assembling tax returns is not for the faint of heart, especially when there are three preparers and one assembler.  Talk about stress!  And yet, God was there in the midst of it all…  Almost every client who walked in the door asked “How are your boys doing?”  And the sheer number of people who told me they are praying for Jason was overwhelming.    I was constantly reminded that people truly do care about others and not just themselves.

Yes, the days were punctuated by clients dropping off and picking up, phones ringing, faxes coming in, and the copier breaking down (at least weekly it seemed), all of this fueled by caffeine and sugar.  Some clients are wonderful and sweet, and some are not.  Being at the front desk was also a bit like Grand Central Station some days.  The evenings and weekends were quieter and you got a lot more done, but who wants to be at work then?  Yet, it wasn’t all bad.  There were the clients who brought food with them so we’d have something to eat for lunch without leaving our desks, or those who showed us their church bulletins with Jason’s name on their military prayer list.  These were the “God” sightings during a hectic, frustrating time.

For the first twenty or so years of our marriage, tax season meant that I was at first, a tax widow and later, a single mom.  For three and a half months every year, life as we knew it came to a screeching halt.  Everything at home became my responsibility for that time period, including the cars and any repairs that needed done.  Take for example the year of the slushy incident, when the van ended up going through the garage door and hooking itself onto the boat hitch!  I called my father-in-law to ask what I should do and he said “take care of it and tell Jeff when he gets home.”  Sage advice.  I truly never understood why my husband was so stressed out and cranky.  I mean yes, he was working long hours, but as a full-time homemaker with two boys, two cats and a dog, so was I.  Truly, parenting is a 24/7 job.  Anyone who says it isn’t hasn’t done it.

About six years ago, my perspective changed.  I was asked to “help out” at the office for a “few hours” a week during tax season.  The pay that was offered was excellent, and the boys were getting to an age where they could be home alone for a few hours, or so I thought.  I’ll never forget the first Good Friday I worked.  The boys were off school and were probably 15 and 11.  The last thing I said before I went out the door that morning was “no cooking while I’m gone.”  I’m not sure what part of that they didn’t understand, but I am pretty sure roasting marshmallows in the gas fireplace constitutes cooking.  (It was quite some time before my husband found out why the boys lost TV privileges for a week.)

Gradually as the years passed, 15 to 20 hours a week became 25 to 30, until this year when I worked full-time hours during the latter half of tax season, logging over 80 hours the last two weeks.  I know that doesn’t sound like much to all you working stiffs out there, but it was crazy.  It wasn’t regular 9 to 5 hours with evenings and weekends off.  It was:  Drop off Josh at school, head to the grocery store and the post office, run home, throw a load of laundry in the washer (and toss the load in the washer from the night before over to the dryer), take care of the animals, make lunches, dash off to the office, leave to get Josh for lunch and pick up his gym clothes, drop him back at school and run back to the office.   Several tax returns later, I would dash out the door to pick up Josh from school, take him home to change and rush him to weight training in Lewisberry.  I would then scurry home to let the dog out and feed him, take care of the mail and head back to pick up Josh.  After driving him home and making sure his supper was taken care of, I would sometimes go back to the office until 9 or 10.  But not every night, some nights I just threw in another load of laundry and collapsed on the couch!

So now, as I look at this tax season in the rear view mirror, I sigh with relief.  But I also realize that, somehow, I enjoyed my time at the front desk.  I was blessed by those around me who shared kind words and daily smiles.  And interwoven through my days was the “positive and uplifting” music of WORD.FM.  Needless to say, I now totally understand why my husband gets so stressed out.  And I take my hat off to you ladies who work full-time jobs while raising kids!  I’m so thankful that I was blessed to be able to stay home with my boys.  When you work full-time and have a family, something has to give, and for us it was all the healthy meals I had just started to enjoy creating.  Josh and I were on a culinary adventure the first few weeks of tax season that would have undoubtedly left me quite a few pounds thinner had I been able to keep up with all the cooking required.  Alas, it was not to be.  “Fast food” does not just mean all the drive thru’s that are abundantly available.  Fast food is anything you don’t have to spend an hour preparing and an hour cleaning up afterwards — truly.  Add to that all the goodies we enjoyed at the office…donuts and coffee cake and peanut butter eggs and…yeah, it wasn’t pretty, but it did make it more enjoyable to be there.

Now that all the craziness is behind me, I’m looking forward to a new beginning of sorts.  A time to really focus on a healthier lifestyle, including all that great cooking Josh and I were getting used to, as well as implementing an exercise regimen.  Additionally, I’m anxious to get back to seriously pursuing my writing and working towards getting published.  Another thing on the horizon is the ACTS Team mission trip to New Mexico Josh and I are taking, and afterwards a week alone with Jeff to celebrate our 30th anniversary.  Relationships are one of the keys to a healthy life.  We were not created to live in a vacuum, and when we are forced to curtail those interactions with family and friends, life seems more overwhelming.  God made us to live in community and I, for one, am glad.  While I’m happy to be free of the daily grind, I will miss all those I shared time with at the office — a smile or an encouraging word does wonders for the frazzled lady behind the front desk.  But now it’s time to spread my wings and enjoy the beauty of Spring, and all that this new beginning holds.  Thank you, God!!  Tax season is over!

This week’s study of the book entitled ‘Let.It.Go.’ has brought me to the question of whether or not I micromanage my kids.  In other words, am I a helicopter mom?  (Don’t you love all the new terminology for our misbehavior as parents?)  I actually asked this question of my oldest child who is an MP in the Marine Corps stationed in Okinawa, Japan.  He said no, but still, sometimes I wonder…

My beloved boys are now 17 and 21.  I have been a stay-at-home mom their entire lives and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  In high school, my chief desire in life was to get married and have babies.  The ‘get married’ part happened quickly — my high school sweetheart proposed the Christmas after graduation and we were married 21 months later.  I was 20 and on top of the world!

Thankfully, my new husband and I were smart enough to wait a while to add kids to the mix.  Good thing, too!  It was stressful enough moving “across the river” and away from the only homes either of us had ever known, starting new jobs, setting up housekeeping and getting to know each other all over again.  Did anyone else notice that the person they thought they knew BEFORE getting married was not the same person they ended up married to?

Anyway, eight years and lots of ups and downs later, enter a beautiful bouncing baby boy named Jason Andrew.  Jase became the center of our universe after a difficult delivery and birth.  While I was lying on the table being stitched up, my husband held our son for the first time and in his words, “fell in love.”  Three and a half years later and another horrific birth — this time an emergency c-section — brought us Joshua Aaron.  Another blessing from above!  (I can’t seem to do deliveries the easy way, so we decided we’d better stop at two!)

The baby and toddler years are a blur, and for those of you with small children, take my advice:  hug them often, take their sloppy, wet kisses and dirty, messy gifts with a grateful heart,  and try to enjoy every moment!  Believe me, you blink and they’re graduating from Kindergarten, 5th Grade and then high school.  It absolutely flies by!

In the midst of all the angst and heartache of child rearing, the overwhelming element of parenting is balancing love and discipline.  Dr. James Dobson of Focus on the Family fame was always my go-to guy when I was feeling unsure of how to proceed.  My shelves are littered with his books, first and most dog-eared being ‘The Strong Willed Child.”  I know that’s hard for you to believe — especially for those of you who know my husband and me!

Long story short, there is a VERY fine line between helping and hovering.  If I had a dime for every time one of my boys said to me “I can do it myself, Mom!” I would be very rich indeed.  When they’re young, you just want to make sure everything goes okay.  From the first book report to the science fair project, and everything in between, we watch and try to help where we can without doing it for them.  (Okay, there are some parents that actually DO the stuff for them, but not me!)

As a very wise guidance counselor once said to me regarding my oldest child with ADHD:  “It’s time for you to sit in the stands and watch your son play.  He has all the skills he needs to get out there and do it, but he has to be the one who takes the initiative and runs with the ball.  You can’t do it for him.”  What sage advice!  And so much easier said than done.

I have to admit that I’m doing much better with Son #2.  It helps that he’s more independent and self-sufficient, but I also learned a lot with Son #1.  Primarily that holding on to the reins too tightly can be detrimental to a child’s development.  They have to make mistakes in order to learn.  Didn’t you?  I know I did.  I’m one of those people you can’t tell anything — I have to experience the pain of failure myself in order to learn the lesson at hand.  I don’t know why, that’s just the way I am.  But, I am getting better and so are my boys!

Well, it’s officially here — the big 5-0!  Since the celebration officially began on Saturday morning, I’ve been having a great week.  It’s snowing like crazy outside my window as I start this post, which always fills my heart with great joy — thank you, God!  And the 5:13 am phone call from my son in Japan to wish me a “Happy Birthday” was a fabulous way to start my day!!!  I am truly blessed!

However, I do feel the need to give you an update on my first blog post several weeks ago.  For those of you who remember, it was about turning 50 and not being in the greatest physical condition.  Some friends were encouraging, but others were concerned that I was being a defeatist.  Not true.  So as one famous American was wont to say, “Here’s the rest of the story…”

About a month ago I embarked on a new journey…well several actually, but this one being my road to healthy eating.  I swore off soda — gasp!!  And artificial sweeteners — I thought I’d never survive.  I turned instead to honey as my sweetener of choice and on a rare occasion raw sugar.  Caffeine is limited to one cup of coffee or tea a day — are you sure I can’t have a diet coke???  And otherwise I began a whole new lifestyle of shopping frequently for fresh fruits and vegetables, and healthy protein.

Now, let’s talk about how much work all of this is…  I have always loved to cook, but my years of child-raising relegated me to quick meals and lots of stops for fast food.  I would call this new type of eating “slow food!”  It takes more time than I care to think about to plan, shop for and prepare these healthy meals.  Many days, I have picked up Josh at weight training around 4:30, headed home and prepared dinner while he cooled down and showered, and sat down to eat around 7pm.  Not my idea of fun, especially since I don’t really get to relax until the leftovers are put away and the dishes done — usually around 8.  Did I mention that I am sleeping really well these days?

To say this was difficult is a huge understatement.  To say that it’s been worth it is, indeed, “the rest of the story!”  In a few short weeks I have dropped a pants size and my clothes are fitting so much better.  But the bigger payoff is how I feel!  I’m more alert, more focused, I have more energy and I’m sleeping like the dead!!  Need more convincing?  I haven’t even started the exercise side of this healthy lifestyle yet and I’m already seeing the payoffs!

My weight loss goals will take a while, but I didn’t put the weight on quickly, nor is it healthy to take it off quickly.  I’m aiming instead for a healthier me and that is already in the works.  (For those who know me well, I have even been able to stop taking Wellbutrin for my seasonal disorder as of last week and it’s not Spring yet!!!)  So while I am not the size I would like to be for my 50th birthday, I am feeling better than I have in a very long time!

For those of you fearing deprivation — please know that in the past week I have sampled peanut butter pie, a coconut egg, a Reese’s peanut butter egg and a number of decadent desserts at the Chocolate Spa yesterday!  I am aiming not for perfection, but for “imperfect progress” to quote one of my favorite writers and speakers.   And take my word for it, it works!  Happy birthday to me!!

I’ve been ‘standing by my man’ for a very long time.  After all, we took our vows before God and promised “for better or worse, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, until death do us part” almost 30 years ago!  Our lives are intertwined on so many levels that sometimes I don’t know where he begins and I end.  I even work in his office during tax season — a position I neither chose nor ever envisioned myself doing — but it works.

And then I started reading Let. It. Go.  The title of the book alone should have scared me off, but I was curious.  I wanted to know if I really am controlling and to my chagrin, I discovered that however I’d like to couch it, I am.  And now I had to ask myself “am I really being manipulative with my husband?”  All this introspection was revealing some not so flattering aspects of my nature…

“Recognize the subtle difference between manipulation and influence,” advises the author, Karen Ehman.  That’s a very fine line if you ask me.  I’m to ‘help’ him make the right decision by providing information, but I’m not to ‘stack the deck’ with only the facts I want him to have.  He’s always saying “get to the point.”  So maybe, sometimes, I just tell him what I want him to know?  Ugh.  The bottom line?  Influence is clear and honest.   Manipulation is subtle and even misleading.

So back to my original hypothesis when I started this book:  I only want what’s best for those around me.  Am I fooling myself?  Am I controlling those around me, including my husband, to make myself happy?  I don’t think it’s that simple.  I really do want to make everyone happy, and of course that includes myself.  But many times, trying to make everyone happy ends up making me miserable.  So how is all this controlling and manipulating working out for me?  Not very well, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, it all goes back to Eve.  Yeah, that far back.  Turns out when the serpent deceived her and she ate the proverbial “apple” and then persuaded Adam to do likewise, this power struggle became our punishment.  The Hebrew meaning of “your desire shall be for your husband and he shall rule over you” simply means that we want our husband’s job — his position!  I want to be boss (yes, I admit it), but my husband has already been assigned that job.  To quote the author… “Bummer!”

So, how do we do ‘the dance?’  How do we make this work when I want to be in charge and it’s not my job description?  For ‘the dance’ to go smoothly, I have to follow his lead.  This doesn’t mean that he’s superior and I’m inferior — it just means that I need to do my job and he needs to do his.  I have to know when to back off, when I’m going beyond helping to manipulating.  I can express my opinion, but I can’t make the decision for him.  And ultimately, HE is responsible for what he decides, not me.  Phew, there is an up side to all this!

After 30 years together, we know ‘the dance’ pretty well.  In our case, it’s really true that “opposites attract.”  But it turns out that his strengths are my weaknesses, and vice versa.  And we’ve made it this far without killing each other!  However, there’s always room for improvement.  Since we love each other and are committed to our marriage, it never hurts to tweak things to make them better!