I Love..........Old Pictures

I love OLD PICTURES. I really don't even care if they are pictures of those I know. There's just something special about something that encapsulates a bit of time. If folks are having fun, or have a twinkle in their eye, all the better! It makes me want to go back in time and get to know them.

I get some of this from my mom. She used to go to a lot of auctions when I was growing up and often she would purchase old pictures, mostly because of their frames. Sometimes she would leave the pictures in them for a time. What interested me the most were the people from years ago who did not smile. Evidently picture taking was a serious business...or life was miserable. They scared me a bit. I swear their eyes would follow you around the room. The side of me that loves horror movies was intrigued. I wonder which of my friends and families are these folks of tomorrow.

I remember when I was in Paris and saw the Mona Lisa at the Louvre. I'd never been a big Mona Lisa fan. I never got the beauty of her so many others saw. Was I dying to see the actual painting? No, but determined only because I thought I should. So I head out in the Louvre to find her.  First of all, the Louvre is ridiculously large and all the things on my list to see during my marathon visit were miles apart. But I was determined. I found the Mona Lisa. The painting was much smaller than I expected. I had always thought it was a huge canvas. No.....around 8 1/2" x 11" or maybe a bit bigger....picture-sized. Crowds were around it, making it difficult to see at times. So I went up close when the crowds cleared, them stood back to look. I moved around a bit more. Wherever I went, her eyes followed me. In that, I was entranced. Possibly she really did have a secret she was trying to tell me. No, I didn't learn what it was. She should've been a bit quicker about revealing it. I was in Paris for about 36 hours and had a lot to see! But still....I loved her a bit after that visit.

I have boxes of pictures that I can't lay my hands on. I have learned not to lend them out....some that were precious to me were borrowed and never returned. One was stolen off of my refrigerator when I lived in Greensboro. It was my precious Polaroid of me and my friends Steve, Jack and Ed with Ramses, the real Carolina mascot (since replaced several generations.) It was a fun Carolina football day and it was a great picture of us all. I got to keep it.....well, because I had insisted on the picture...and I was the girl, so of course it should be mine! I had it for years and all three of these guys visited my house and saw the picture often. One stole it. Yes, I suspect I know which one. He had better be treasuring it to this day! If not, I wish him great torture. (Sometimes I may hold a grudge.)

Another favorite Polaroid was Adrienne, Charlie and me with the General Lee....the Dukes of Hazzard car....taken at the Signal Hill Mall on Christmas break when we were in college. Oh, and two little stranger boys, who had been crying because they wanted their picture taken with the car and their mom wouldn't pay the $3 or so it cost, were also in the picture with us. I ended up with that picture, too (I may be a bit grabbier than Adrienne and Charlie....and of course I didn't give it to the little boys!) It is around here someplace. One day I will find it and it will find its way onto Facebook. We were so young and cute that day!

While in some ways digital images make it easier to share and keep track of pictures, I personally seldom print them. I am not alone. What is this change going to do to history? I wonder. We take more pictures than ever, but I think many will be as though they were done by Snapchat. Here one minute, gone forever.

Last year my mom gave each of us kids a copy of a picture of her and my dad when they were first married. They got married at my dad's parent's house, with just my grandparents, the preacher, and his wife in attendance, and no one thought to take pictures that day. So the picture is not from then. My mom still has the dress and shoes she was married in, but has no pictures of her in it. She hates she doesn't have pictures of that special day, and I hate it, too. But anyway, this picture she gave us was one I had never seen before, probably taken during there first year of marriage. It has been enlarged and colorized perfectly. It's one of my favorites.

I used to take a lot more pictures than I do now, though I still take more than most. The sentimental side of me knows there will be a time when I wish I took more. Even now I will look back at old travel pictures or old family pictures or the pictures from my school yearbooks and they make me smile. The pictures always tell a story, even if they don't necessarily tell the true story. Maybe those unsmiling folks weren't as miserable as their pictures made them appear. We will never know. There's a mystery to a picture. One moment in time, true or false?

How about you? Why don't you smile for the camera and take a few pictures? Don't make them wonder if you're happy. Show future generations that you actually love your life. And if you don't....stop.....adjust.....more moments are coming to capture. Make them pleasant. Make others love old pictures....and not for the creepy factor.

I Love........A Colorful World

I love A COLORFUL WORLD. Certain friends are amused at my love of colorful food. I admit I seldom eat from a totally bland plate and yes, I am particularly excited when I see one bursting with color. Several families (you know who you are) make fun of me a bit when they notice that they have fixed a meal that would meet my color requirements. Some tell me about it later and say, "We were having dinner and your name came up. It was pretty and we said 'Kim would be so proud'." Yes. Yes, I would. (And it is OK to text me a picture of your pretty meal as some of you have done. Even if on one hand you are making fun of me.) Pretty food is nutritious food. Well, usually. When it is natural. Those who have tried to tell me that "magically delicious" cereal qualifies...no, it does not.

I also have a tendency toward bold folk art....lots of colors, lots of different and unique colorful people. It makes me happy to see these scenes. And the photography of beautiful scenery.... the world on fire with sunsets, the colors of the Grand Canyon, blues and turquoise waters filled with colorful fish. They kick my heart into gear.

I also love colorful clothes. With my love of black, it may be hard to believe that I love to see beautiful colors in fashion. Even with my mostly black wardrobe, I love a pop of bright color. Some of my friends dress brightly and boldly and I can't wait to see what they will put together next. Yes, I think black is the best, but it gets more beautiful surrounded by color.

And then people. I can't imagine a world that did not have people of all skin colors, hair colors, and eye colors. It took me until late high school to really understand the existence of racism in our world. I was raised where that was not a consideration. It must have just gone over my head, since I know now it existed. I always attended integrated schools and saw skin color on the same level as hair color. Kids learn prejudice....and thankfully I was protected from ever developing those thoughts. I had good adults in my life. In college I learned more about it. My dorm had a high racial mix, so often my suite was half black and half white. There were a lot of conversations. A lot of experiences shared. Some of my naïvety dropped, but my beliefs stayed the same. For me it would never matter. Who you are is more important than how you look. Even at your cutest.

I hate when I am filling out any sort of form when note of my race is required, for no good reason. It seems to me to have little value most of the time and reminds people that this is a difference in them that separates. I believe I will outlive this info bracketing, and some of my friends are making this probable. What race do you put down when you can check most of the boxes? I love those who check them all...because that is their truth. Our races are mixed. Most of us have more variety than would show on the surface. To group us due to our outside shell, shallowly misrepresents us.

How can racism still exist today? I don't understand it, but I still see it. I still hear snide comments, made to me because they think I would agree because of my skin color. No, I don't. And it's not just in the white community I hear this. Folks of all races can be racist. Once again, because I am comfortable mixing with folks of all colors, I hear the comments. It's never right....never a quality of which you should be proud. I'd say it makes me uncomfortable, but truth is it makes me angry. But yet, I always prefer when people are open about their feelings. We need to talk about it. Whatever you believe, stand up for it. But know if your beliefs are racist, I will fight you. Not physically, but with words, logic, and love. I know God, the artist who created all of these lovely faces, will be standing with me.

I don't want a color-blind world. I used to say I did, and I have realized I wouldn't like that either. How depressing that would be! I want to live in a colorful world where we embrace and celebrate every single color. Who you are is not the color of your skin, or the color of your hair, or the color of your eyes.....but neither is that something that should ever shame you. Enjoy how you were created....that which makes you the amazing creature you are. But your color can't be your cornerstone. Your number one identity. You are much, much more, not something that superficial that you were gifted with and that was not earned. 

Whatever colors you bring to the mix, add to the masterpiece. Our people, our places, our things, our food....so much more beauty than exceeds any crayon box.  Let's celebrate it. I just love our colorful world!

I Love.........Giving Hearts

I love GIVING HEARTS. I went to the Heart Ball as the guest of my friend Diana McLaughlin-White on Saturday night. Diana is not only my friend but an amazing massage therapist, who owns Healing Hands Studio. Hmmmmm.......maybe I need to write about how much I love massages, but let's leave that to another day. (But if you need one in the meantime....Diana is your woman. I can give you her number.)

Anyway, back to the Heart Ball. It's a fundraiser for the American Heart Association. Fitting, huh? It's a big, fancy "black tie optional" event. Lots of people attend. Really, lots. From a distance I saw people there I knew, but never got close enough to talk to them. I have since found out that some were there that I didn't see at all. My friend Janie Stikeleather is on the planning committee and they did a great job. (Though if Janie is involved, you know "good cause" and "good event").

So there were lots of beautifully dressed people. They smelled good. (Statesville cleans up nice!) The evening started with a silent auction. Tons and tons of silent auction items given by area businesses, individuals, and sports and entertainment celebrities. Some were valued in the thousands of dollars. Items for the home, items for play, vacations, parties, food, services of local businesses......they had it all. People were bidding away.

During dinner there was a live auction. More big ticket items. People came to spend, and they would bid over the valued amount. Significantly more sometimes. After the auction they asked who else wanted to give donations. Lots of paddles went up.

I'm not sure how much money was raised, but it was a good amount. We have a lot of big hearts here, that don't just support the American Heart Association, but so many other local and national...and even international....charities besides.

It's sometimes difficult to pull that wallet from your pocket, but it is pretty amazing to think we are able to give to an organization that helps educate, encourage, treat, and research these diseases that indiscriminately take our loved ones. It should be a privilege, not a chore. It's great to be in a community that shows up to give to a good cause. One initiative of the Heart Association that I learned about on Saturday night was that high school students will soon have to learn CPR as a graduation requirement. I love that! I just may need them one day.

As a woman I am grateful that all that has been done to educate people and providers that the symptoms of heart attack are often difference for us. More research is necessary as to how we differ, and how treatment should be different, since this is still a fairly recent recognition. While deaths from heart attacks for men have dropped dramatically over the last few years, we're not seeing that happen in women. Let's keep funding research.

Heart Ball was a fun and informative night. Who knew that you could do hands-only CPR to the beat of the BeeGees "Staying Alive" and save a life? It seems you can. Good to know! Though I will probably be yelling "What BeeGees song was it?" Remember for me. (And Heart.com, the American Heart Association website, has a lot of great information if you want to learn more.)

For those who planned, and sponsored, and gave, and just showed up, thank you. I love seeing our community at work....and play...for a good cause. Diana McLaughlin-White, thanks for inviting me and being such a great table host. It was great to see what happens at a Heart Ball, because I love to see giving hearts!

I Love..... Dean Smith

I love DEAN SMITH. Or Coach Smith, as I have always called him. I think in college I may have been confused as to whether Dean was his name or his title. I now know both fit! He always will be The Dean of College Basketball.

There are other great coaches, but none that impacted my life as Coach Smith. I think I qualified for a minor in UNC basketball during my college years. My first three years I didn't miss a home game. I only missed a couple during my senior year (because the Pizza Hut where I waitressed thought they needed to stay open during ball games and didn't appreciate my outstanding fan record.) I didn't just go to games. I would hang out at practices and pick-up games. Carmichael was on my way home - what's a girl to do? The away games were watched in my dorm lounge with equally rabid fans. 

Getting tickets to home games was not a guarantee, so it took a certain amount of discipline and planning with your friends. Especially if you wanted good tickets. I think my only college classes skipped were spent waiting for tickets...you did what you had to do (until the university decided classes should trump ticket distribution and worked to come up with rules more conducive to getting an education and also getting prime tickets)! When I hear students today get tickets by computer, I pity them. I think they were robbed of the true experience of proving they were really a fan worthy of being the sixth man on the court. How can you show that if you are not able to camp out overnight on concrete on the coldest day of the year? Today's students are wimps, I tell you! (Love you guys anyway, but you should sleep on that pavement once or twice just for the experience! And pass the swim test...but that's another story.)

I went to college prior to the Dean Dome....when games were still played in that magical place called Carmichael Auditorium. It was electric. I have never since been to a place where I felt like I was a piece of something so special. The whole building would rock as the game was in full swing, and you would rock right along with it. I had so many good times in that place. A game there was one of the top experiences on the planet. The Dean Dome is nice, but still a bit of a let down.

There always was a dignity to things, though, and I think that was because of the gentleman in Coach Smith. Surprising to think of dignity when it comes to college students, but Coach Smith required a certain level of etiquette during games. The equivalent of a parent's "Don't make me come down there", and following through with it, was Coach Smith taking the microphone down on the court. Most often it was when Carolina fans were booing the other team. That was not allowed in Carmichael. It didn't happen often, because having Coach Smith tell you he was disappointed in you and that your behavior was not worthy of being a Tar Heel.... was even worse than lectures from your parents! I have never heard of another coach doing this...and students changing who they were as a result. It changed me, at least. I still always try to respect the other team.

I met Coach Smith my junior year at Carolina. I was a broadcast journalism major and for a local cable news show we did for a class, we did a season's preview. I was the reporter. Jimmy Black, who was a starting guard for Carolina, was also a Radio, TV and Motion Pictures major and he was the first person I interviewed. Knowing him from around the halls of Swain Hall (the building where our major was based), our interview was fun and relaxed. Jimmy also set up an interview with James Worthy for me, and I was to meet him outside Coach Smith's office. Jimmy had a class, so couldn't wait to introduce us....so so my cameraman and I went to find James. Coach Smith happened by as we were getting to know each other, and James introduced me as if we were old friends. Coach Smith shook my hand warmly and talked with us a few minutes about what we were doing.

After that encounter, every time I would see him around campus, he would make it a point to smile, nod or say hello to me, twinkle in his eye. The crazy basketball fan I was, it was always a thrill. For this adult woman, it warms my heart that he would remember a college kid he met once. (And yes, while I have no illusions that he remembered my name, since I had crossed paths with him many times before unnoticed, I do believe he really recognized me after this. Or maybe he was just a bit more confident I wasn't a stalker, so felt comfortable acknowledging me. Or maybe he thought I was a stalker and decided he better be friendly!)

Coach Smith was a smoker, but he would not allow anyone to photograph him with a cigarette in his hands. He felt it set a bad example for "the kids". He also cared that the players presented themselves well. When I commented to Jimmy how amazed I was that all of the players were such great interviews he said "Boot camp pays off!" Coach Smith made them all spend time working with Woody Durham (the "voice of the Tarheels") to make sure they were competent on camera. His guys needed to make the university proud. He felt as though it was their responsibility.

For four years I sat in the edge of my seat, as they won game after game. Yes, they lost a few, too....but I don't remember those much! Even after losses there was a pride and belief in the ability of our team. Carolina won the national championship for me during my senior year. (Yes, it was for me. Try to talk me out of that belief!) I am happy that Coach Smith got to share that with me.

Coach Smith was more than just basketball. He seemed mild mannered, but lived his beliefs. He cared that his players graduate and most did. He cared about them as people....wanted them to be men of character. He was a civil rights advocate when many others were afraid to fight openly for it. He was for racial equality and nuclear disarmament, but against the death penalty. He spoke carefully and thoughtfully, but never was polish over substance. He wore his faith well.

I decided to go to Carolina my senior year in high school and one of the most difficult things about that decision was to put years of being an NC State fan away (though David Thompson is still my all-time favorite college player) and move my loyalty to UNC. It ended up being quite an easy thing to do, and Coach Smith was much of the reason why. It was easy to support a team led by a coach you respected above all others. (And Carolina blue is so much prettier than red!)

Coach, we'll miss you. You will be remembered well and are an important part in the story of our university. You were more than a coach for a basketball team....you were both mentor and teacher to those of us who looked up to you. I appreciate the man you were and the example you set to kids like me. It's a shame that there are no four corners in heaven....or are there? We'll talk in eternity! 

I love you, oh coach of coaches, Dean Smith.

I Love.......My Babies

I love MY BABIES. "But you don't have children", you say. I know. But I still have babies.

I always thought I would have children of my own, but that never happened. It's OK....I was never traumatized as a result. God gave me lots of babies in my family and among my close friends, so that I was able to spend large quantities of time with them. More than the average parent, even if I never got the quality time that only taking on the full responsibility of parenthood brings. Still, it was pretty darn good. A lot of joy. You should rejoice with what you have been given, and I do. It's been rather nice.

As a result, I have been able to see a lot of "my babies" grow up. Some have seemed to coast through, much going their way, the harder stuff seeming like water off a duck's back. It's easy to cheer them on, and there is a lot to cheer for. The maturity they develop at young ages is awe-inspiring. Their commitment to people, to causes they believe in, to making themselves a person of great purpose....I wonder "How and when did you learn all of this?" It makes me proud.

Others have struggled, gone through some rough patches but risen above it all into stability. With them you feel like you are watching the toddler walk. You know you can't keep holding their arm and supporting them if you want them to get their equilibrium, but you watch on pins and needles. When they figure it all out, and walk and then run, you realize you had been holding your breathe the whole time. You release it with a grateful "Whoosh!" 

And then there are those who continue to struggle, appearing to run into walls and furniture constantly. You can see that their eyes are closed. You tell them that opening their eyes would make it easier, but they defiantly keep them shut. You learn to watch them with mixed feelings - hoping they arise from the ashes, but sometimes doubting their ability to do so. Your prayers for them become a mixture of "Lord change their hearts" to "Lord, put every possible obstacle in their way so they stay on the right path."

Wherever they are dealing with, all of these babes...and if you have known them all of their lives they will in some ways always be your babies....keep a piece of your heart. In your mind you are still cuddling their sweetness close to you. You're still promising to do all you can to guide and protect them. You want your life to reflect goodness, love, and impeccable character. You would still lay down your life for theirs because you want them to live an even longer and happier life than you have. You take great joy when you suspect they do....because you know that isn't easy. You work to keep that bar high.

While babies depend on others for everything, there comes a time where you have to let them find their own way. Live the promise you know awaits them. Take their place on the road of life and grow up. Accept responsibility and become adults. That's healthy....that's the way it should be. There is no less delight than watching them in their infancy.

It breaks my heart that all babies are not welcomed into a world where they have two parents, and a whole community of others, completely and absolutely in love with them even before they make their entrance into this world. Delighting at their first steps and first words and oh-so-profound first thoughts. I would add every single one of these babies to my brood if I could. But to those who I have been able to share over the years, know you will always have an extra measure of love from me and a lot of prayers on your behalf. Near or far, we are connected forever, because you are my babies and you are dearly and devotedly loved!

I Love.....Customer Care

I love CUSTOMER CARE. I started to say customer service, but as I thought about it I realized that perhaps that is what I don't like. Customer service is simply going through the motions and getting "the job" done. Customer care is actually looking at your customer, putting yourself in their shoes, and trying to give them exactly what they need. More than what they need...what will delight them. To care for them as people, not just see them as every other customer.

I wonder sometimes why the senior management in most companies do not spend much time checking out the front lines. I believe any CEO should spend regular time meeting with customers. Not just the big customers, but a random sampling of everyman. If there is a call center, I think they need to do some time answering the calls. Or at least listening in. (Truth is many CEOs would not be able to answer the questions.) I think they would be surprised. I think perhaps they would reconsider if those jobs should pay minimum wage and minimal skills. I think it's worth investing resources there. Pay more than the rest for very competent customer care professionals, then give them the tools and empowerment to get things done. It would pay off in spades.

A friend of mine lost her Fitbit recently. My immediate reaction was "Write them, tell them, and send them a receipt." I lost mine in a field in SC, while crewing at a balloon festival. We barely found that field with GPS....I never would have been able to find it again once I realize my Fitbit was gone. I wrote the company because I was annoyed I lost it. I didn't blame the company, but I was (and still am) confused as to why they designed the bands so they could come off so easily (especially for someone like me, who has lost rings off of her fingers.) I also wanted to tell them I did like their product, though, and had benefitted from it. I didn't expect for them to ask for proof of purchase and replace it....but they did. Yes, I like that company.

We all have the horror stories. The people who treat us like we are interrupting their day. Those that ignore us as they have a personal conversation with their co-worker. Those who have a line of customers a mile long and work as though they are heavily medicated and don't see it (especially in airports....don't get me started.) The calls we make to Customer Service that require 15 phone prompts, and still get us someone who isn't very helpful. Is it a wonder we're all a bit crazy about it?

If you run a business, you have to be concerned about your customers. Whether you run a Fortune 500 company, or just a business of one. If you want to have a successful business it's probably not just about you. Sometimes your policies and procedure have to be about the customers you wish to have or retain. Their problems, their schedules, their needs...they should be important to you. You'll be dealing with people who are imperfect. How you react to them matters. Are you out to judge them, to berate them, or perhaps should you show them some mercy? Sometimes you have to deliver bad news, or even criticism, but these sorts of things can be done with kindness. Caring for people doesn't always come naturally. What's that saying "It's easy to show love to the lovely?" Many businesses have been made with a customer base of the unlovely, who once they are noticed start to shine a bit brighter and become much nicer. 

In this age of poor social skills, customer care is almost a lost art. I think I have become accepting of even mediocre service because that's the high side of the norm. But those times when I as a customer am delighted, I try to delight them in return. I want to give them more of my business and I want to send my friends. The little things matter. If you're going to be in a business where you have customers, don't let them walk away without noticing you, simply because you didn't notice them. Each is different. Make them feel special, so they feel that you care. I love customer care.....because it means you care about your customer.

I Love........Perspective

I love PERSPECTIVE. So often we look at something head on, and only see the surface. We'll twist our head a bit and see something that had been totally out of view before. Then maybe we'll look at it from behind, and once again we have to shift our opinion. It's not what it appeared to be at first glance. It's amazing when we realize it, but often our memories forget to remind us of this wonder the next time we find ourselves gazing intently at something, and so we start the process all over again. We have to re-gain perspective.

It's probably why I love having people in my life with very diverse outlooks. I especially love those who are original thinkers....who don't take the average opinion  and make it their own, but who carefully consider topics using their own senses, information gathering, experimentation and judgment, and come to their own conclusions. They have perspective.

I remember in college I took a loathsome astronomy observatory lab. We had to take telescopes and point them into the heavens and do some sort of measurements. Yeah, I didn't understand what it all meant then either. To compound my problem, I picked the fun people as my group mates. Dumb idea. Dumb, dumb idea. So what is this group of fun, but not necessarily astronomy-smart, people to do? We would go around to the other groups, get their answers, average them all (I had some math skills!), and whatever we came up with was our answer. Great idea, right?! Nope! We failed miserably. In coming up with the averages, we were never getting the correct answers. One group may be off by a long shot, others right on point. Even throwing high and low answers out wouldn't work, because what if only one group understood the concept (as often happened)? Since we didn't quite understand the question, we couldn't discern whether the answers made any sense. We were losers. I picked a different group the next time.

Sometimes my thinking gets in a rut. OK, sometimes I don't think at all. I find I am going through life by rote, not thoughtfully. If you surround yourselves with a few thoughtful types, they won't let you stay in that place for long. They will challenge the lazy mind you have adopted and make sure you do not rest until you form a thoughtful opinion of your own. There aren't a lot of these folks in the world, but I am blessed with a few I hold dear. They are jewels...it matters to them that I think for myself, and they would be highly insulted if I simply adopted their opinions as my own. I feel the same about them. Without thinking before we discuss, and without coming to the table with a point of view, we lose the ability for iron to sharpen iron. But when we bring together two (or more) different points of view, we often discover new truths. Sometimes we adopt a new opinion, a compilation of something from one and something from another. But in the end it seems....more right!

Some folks really hate individual perspective.....they think we all need to look where they are looking and see what they are seeing. The possibility that their view may not be right is forbidden to ever enter their minds. The muscles of their minds (yes, we're speaking figuratively here) are quite strong in one sense, because they hold tight to their single point of view. What would that be called - brain isometrics? It's difficult to make them budge. And they don't, because they fear what would happen if they really exercise that muscle. You discuss a subject with them and they won't participate - their mind is like a battering ram. It's why we call them the hard-headed ones. Arguing with them is pointless, because they will not consider the possibility of being wrong.

There are times I get overwhelmed by how much I don't know....or by how many things I need to learn over and over. I feel like my brain just isn't big enough to think through the problems I encounter in life.  I worry and stress and think I am doing it all wrong, but can't figure out how to get it all right.

Ultimately, when it gets down to it, the trump card in the thinking game is that God is bigger. Life's problems really can appear to be enormous. We really may be inadequate to handle. But there is comfort in knowing that God, the designer and creator of the universe, is in control. While I only see those things in my line of vision, He has the total picture in His sight. He has the ultimate perspective.

I love perspective.

I Love........Sleep

I love SLEEP. I think if you are a good sleeper, perhaps you take it for granted. Perhaps you never really appreciate it. If you have spent long periods of your life as an insomniac, it seems like a treasure that continually escapes you.

I first started having problems sleeping when I was in my 20s. I remember talking to my doctor about it and he said "Kim, 95% of sleeplessness is stress-related. You need to reduce the stress in your life."

I knew that stress was not the issue. There was no correlation to stress, unless perhaps I slept better when I was stressed. Stress is exhausting!

I walked away with no real solutions. It annoyed me. Surely they understand that this is something they should know more about. Surely this is something they can cure! Oh, everyone gave me solutions.   "Have a relaxing sleep space", "no caffeine past morning", "regular bedtime", "camomile tea or hot milk", "St. John's wort", "a bar of Ivory soap under your pillow".... yep, desperate me tried them all. Nothing helped. I finally decided it was either allergies or hormones and just started a regular relationship with sleeping pills. They helped for a while, but then the problem seemed to get worse and worse.

During a particular bad spell, I went to the doctor to see if anything could be done. I was sleeping little each night. I have always been able to go a night or so without any sleep, but this time it was constant. I was not getting more than a couple of hours a night, and REM sleep seemed to be a stranger. What was worse, though, was what was going on inside my body. It was like I was going to jump out of my skin! I felt like my body was resisting sleep from the depths of my being. It was like something was clawing at me from the inside. I would get up and pace the house, hoping my body would eventually calm down. Once in a while I could lay on the couch, or one of my other beds, and get to sleep. But most nights were like a living nightmare. I felt like a crazy person.

So when I described what was going on to the doctor, after less than five minutes he said "Well, I can give you a diagnosis now. You have restless legs syndrome." Honestly I didn't believe it at first. I'd seen videos of people with restless leg syndrome and they thrashed over the bed. I didn't. In fact, the only thrashing happened when I was trying to change positions to bring on sleep. When I questioned the diagnosis, the doctor's explanation made sense. The unrest inside my body was because I was so still at night. Those muscles in my body were wanting to fire. That's why the movement to another location sometimes helped.

He prescribed a medication that was a horror to my body. I couldn't take it. I tried, but finally decided that I still wasn't sleeping and the side effects were horrible, and I would rather not sleep than continue to do that to my body. It was just too harsh for my system. Understanding why the sleeplessness was happening helped a bit, and so I just suffered on. I was able to get it to manageable, still taking the sleeping pills. 

In time, though, the sleeping pills were no longer working. We tried many, and eventually were at a point where we were going back to my old standby. It didn't help all the time, but did on occasion and that was better than  the rest. When I mentioned the restless legs thing to my nurse practitioner, she suggested we try one more drug. It was an old one that they used to use to treat restless legs. For less than $3 a month, that was my miracle drug. I seldom have problems sleeping now.

So after 30 years of issues, now I sleep....and it's a wonderful thing. I was fortunate to be able to function quite well with little sleep, but so many can't. It can change who you are. Lack of sleep can take the shine off of life. It can lead to depression, irritability, irrational behavior, weight gain, self medication (drug and alcohol abuse), increased incident of accidents, poor work performance, poor driving.....so many things.

I still don't get eight hours a night, but my body doesn't seem to require it. I get enough. Most mornings I awake without an alarm clock and feel refreshed. Well, after a cup or two of coffee and a little bit of waking up time.

If you sleep well, appreciate it. If you don't sleep, get help for it. Keep seeking help until you get answers. Because sufficient sleep does improve your health and your life. And you deserve a good night's sleep.

Yes, as someone who has done without it too often, I love and appreciate sleep.

I Love........Physical Therapy

I love PHYSICAL THERAPY. I "graduated" today from a month of physical therapy on my knees. My right knee is a bit of a mess internally.....there is evidence of an old injury (of which the clumsy me has no recollection of injuring, but they say could have even gone back to childhood), bone spurs, and most importantly the start of arthritis (which is here to stay....it is not going away). Lisa, the physical therapist that developed my care plan, has also said that neither of my knees is "tracking straight" and there is fluid built-up behind them. Oh, and I could play one of Cinderella's stepsisters right now, because they are downright crunchy! You can tell it fascinates me a bit. OK, a lot. Still I have been incredibly healthy most of my life and the idea that this area of my body is "turning on me" alternately annoys me and reminds me how fortunate I am.

I've had pain in my knees since spring. I tried to "push through" it, as many suggested to me, but that just didn't feel to me like the best way to care for my body. I'm a believer that we can ruin our bodies with excess just as we can with neglect and I have come to a point where I try to listen to mine, and learn the difference between building it up and tearing it down.

My wonderful nurse practitioner Judy offered me a couple of suggestions when I was discussing it with her during my annual physical. My choices as I saw them were I could start visits with an orthopedist (which makes me think of shots and surgery), I could go straight to physical therapy, or I could continue doing nothing. The physical therapy seemed to make the most sense to me.

Since I had benched myself into not working out at all due to the pain (awesome excuse....and it is so easy to just give it all up!), I had already seen my whole body impacted. Yes, there was the weight gain that is a horror to any woman, but to see my muscles soften and sag was the most heartbreaking. And probably the most motivating to get out of the rut, because I believe that one of the major responsibilities God has given me is to be a good caretaker to this shell I reside in.

I've already written about my feeling of hopelessness I felt when I was told I couldn't run again at my first physical therapy appointment. Well, it wasn't necessarily forbidden. I was told I could do it if the idea of knee surgery in my near future was acceptable. As caretaker of my body, that seems like lighting a fire to a room to clean my house. So no, not the best option! I knew I had to change my mind about the direction in which my body needed to head.

Since I was using physical therapy to strengthen rather than cure, I think my experience was better than most. Well, easier anyway. It seemed simple. I had to do things like step up and down a stair. Sounds really easy, doesn't it? Then why did my body weirdly wobble at times as I attempted to keep my balance? Why couldn't my brain keep the right pattern in it and get the proper rhythm going? At times it seemed like all these mini-failures were going on, but eventually it would click. And yes, I would feel pride that I was getting it right. I could do this.

I listened intently for anything that would give me information about my body. They confirmed the lack of strength in my legs (shocking because my legs have always been pretty strong), and that my balance is terrible. They explained the areas of my legs we needed to build up to take over some of the weight bearing that my knees just can't handle. As experts their eyes could see things mine couldn't. They could see a slight tremor and know what that particular muscle was experiencing and how to make it stronger.

The physical therapists constantly asked me my pain level. I have a difficult time answering that question. I still don't think I do it well. I am sure it is because I over-analyze the question in my quest to come up with the "right" answer. Maybe there isn't a right answer. Maybe it is just a matter of the relationship between all of your answers. My four may be someone else's eight...but what matters is when that four goes to a three or a five. I felt like it was maybe a three or four when we started out. They weren't making me do much that caused pain to my knee, but it did hurt when I did certain things. Through most of PT, though, I didn't feel pain. My level was zero. They said that was good. But I learned to articulate another level of things. I learned to be able to express while at times there was not pain, there was discomfort. That still was significant. I learned that sometimes that discomfort was a good thing, as I was building things up, but sometimes it meant that I was headed in the wrong direction and I needed to back off or try something new. I had to think about it to try to figure out the difference. As someone with focus problems ("Squirrel!!"), I had to make sure I kept myself aware of how what I was doing impacted my body. I learned to try to mentally articulate what was doing on. A bit different than my typical "I hate this, I hate this, I hate this" I normally focus on when working out.

You do physical therapy in a room with others doing physical therapy. I saw many recovering from knee surgery. They faced much more pain than me...a reminder of what I was possibly avoiding in trying to make a pre-emptive strike. I'd hear other patients report pain levels of eight and ten. How fortunate that even at my worst, when the pain got too painful to run, that I don't believe I would have been at that level of pain.

Physical therapy reminded me the little things matter.

• A slight twist of my foot may make a calf stretch a bit deeper.
• Not going down so much on a squat would give me the stretch my body needed without making my knees hurt afterward.
• A few extra reps of a lighter weight may build up my strength faster and safer than doing fewer reps of a much heavier weight. Doing a lot of reps of a simple move may take the muscle from comfortable to throbbing.
• To get stronger, you need a bit of resistance.
• You can wear yourself out doing an exercise wrong, but not get any stronger. 

The most important thing that physical therapy reminded me is that where I am today is OK. Yes, had I done certain things differently (such as continuing exercise that didn't stress my knee when I started having issues) I would be in better shape today. But what is gained in letting my mind stall in that place? I still have a distance to travel to be where I need to be, but I have more tools in my arsenal. For example, I don't have to give up my treadmill. I can use it differently. Who knew that walking on it backwards, slowly, could strengthen the muscles I need to strengthen most? When I master that, I can add some sidestepping, that will strengthen other muscles and help me work on my balance. There is no need to be bored.

When I took yoga classes years ago, I saw that everything yoga requires, I lack. Balance, attention span, flexibility. The instructor taught that the first thing that was necessary to practice yoga was that you looked within and didn't compare yourself to anyone else and that you learned to know your body and listen to its natural wisdom. Physical therapy reminded me of these concepts.

Our bodies are great gifts, and regardless of their current shape we must treat them well. Good can go to bad, bad can go to worse. But also, worse can go to best. The plan for care is as individual and unique as we each are, but it needs to be a plan where we succeed. You need to compel yourself to  advance and change course as needed. And you need to celebrate the small victories, because they win us the war.

I'm glad to be a graduate of physical therapy. I love what it did for me. I will now enroll in grad school.

I Love.......Globes

I love GLOBES. I'm not sure when my fascination with them began. I must have been young. I don't remember anyone I knew that had one of their own, so it must have been in school. I never was a big geography buff, so it was never about that. Even today I would probably have difficulty finding a lot of countries, even those to which I have traveled. Still, if a globe is in the room I will probably notice it, and if no one is looking (or maybe even if they are) I will probably feel the need to touch it or give it a little spin. Globes both comfort and fascinate me.

I own two globes. I remember I pondered the purchase of the first one for quite a while. It seemed frivolous. In the end, I couldn't help myself. I bought it. While it wasn't an expensive one, the black waters made it a bit unique. Loving the color black as I do, it seemed to be the right globe for me. Sometimes I take it down and spin it on its axis, amazed I own my own little compact world. Also amazed that certain places are nowhere close to where I thought they were!

Throughout the childhoods of my three youngest nieces (Maggie, Taylor, and Addison), when Aunt Kim was going to take a trip we played a game where they would have to find where I was going. First they had to find North Carolina. Then they had to find the country of destination. I would give them clues as to where it was until they could put their finger on it. Then they would trace a line from one to another, and we would talk about where I would be traveling. Taylor, especially, had a great memory of the places. When I would get back from the trip, she could often still find the way to my destination.

The other globe I bought as a souvenir from.....somewhere. As is often the case, I don't remember where I bought it. I do remember it held no real significance to the place I was visiting...I could have found one back home, and possibly at a better price. But this little tiny jewel globe was beautiful, with its bright blue waters. Too small for any real function, it just made me happy to look at it. While I can't recall where I purchased it, I remembered thinking it was a perfect reminder of a good trip....and the promise to myself of more good trips to come.

What's so great about a globe? It makes our world one. This world that seems so one-dimensional in our everyday life, with  so many divisions and differences, is actually a huge rotating ball. Twirl it in its axis and you don't see the separation we humans often create. We rotate together. In sync. It`s beautiful, really. The different colors of the countries speak of the colors of many different faces and cultures, distinct, but adjoined to their neighbors. When you look at the United States compared to the rest of the world, we're really just a small part. Yes, we have states bigger than many countries, but there is so much there besides us. Looking at the globe you can see small countries of great power and large countries who have struggled. The amount of land you own isn't necessarily correlated to your global world power or significance.

While the shapes of the land remain pretty much the same, often the countries change. You can usually figure out when the globe was made based on the countries that show on it. Yugoslavia is not on my globe, but it shows Serbia and Montenegro together. That means it was probably made between 2003 and 2006, I believe. I actually thought it was older than that! I'll have to think about that more.

Globes remind me of all the countries I have been fortunate to visit, but show me I haven't made a dent in where I want to go. I will continue to spin them and pick new places to explore, and dream of the adventures to be had.

I remember a show from when I was growing up, with a theme song that sounded really creepy, but had lyrics of note. The Big Blue Marble. 

"The earth's a Big Blue Marble
When you see it from out there
The sun and moon declare
Our beauty's very rare

Folks are folks and kids are kids
We share a common name
We speak a different way
But work and play the same

We sing pretty much alike
Enjoy spring pretty much alike
Peace and love we all understand
And laughter, we use the very same brand

Our differences, our problems
From out there there's not much trace

Our friendships they can place
While looking at the face
Of the Big Blue Marble in space."

And here we sit, a pin drop on that big blue marble, spinning and spinning. Living life on that globe. Yes, I love it.

I Love........Encouragement

Well, it is the month of February, also known as "Love Month", and I am going to once again do a little exercise my niece Sara Johnson got me started on several years ago, that actually was the catalyst for me starting to blog. She decided to post a Facebook status about something she loved every day during the month of February and I decided to join her. It was so difficult for this A.D.D. mind to focus on anything for 28-consecutive days, but it was also life changing for me. My life needs a little shaking up right now, both in discipline and to jump-start some areas of my life that are a bit stalled, so though it does intimidate me a bit I have decided to give it another try. I hope you enjoy, and that it even touches you in some way, but mostly it's a bit self-centered. Let's see how it goes! Feel free to talk back to me....I love comments...or I challenge you to give it a try yourself!


I love ENCOURAGEMENT. I would define encouragement as noticing what is good, and feeding and watering that good thing so it grows. You'd think it would be something that would come naturally to us, but in our myopic self-centered lives sometimes we forget that folks need our support, just as we need the support of others. Even those who appear to need no one can be boosted by a smile or kind word of understanding. Most often we are not intentional in offering words or gestures of grace. Busy-ness, worries, too much self-indulgence, too much time and attention spent on things that bring us no value, putting our nose into things that are none of our business... these are all the enemies of an encouraging spirit.

True encouragement must be based on truth. I can't stress that enough. Heartbreak often will come to people down the line if you encourage something not bathed in truth. You are doing harm, and not good.

I was standing talking to someone one day when a woman entered the room. The woman I was talking with said to me "Look at that ugly dress." When the woman, who was a "friend" of hers, walked by us she hugged her and said "Hi girl....I love your dress." Anyone who knows me knows it put me in a state of crazy. There are so many things she could say to this woman that were positive and truthful, but she chose the thing that was a lie. Cheap encouragement. In my mind it was a negative passive-aggressive comment, not worthy as a gift to a friend. Reminded me of who I don't want to be..and that my personal motto should be "If you can't say something truthful, say nothing at all."

On the other hand, if you see a friend wearing a dress that makes her look awesome, telling her so is a gift that goes beyond the few words spoken. That is what reinforces her esteem truthfully. It is info that she can use to create her personal style, figure out what best complements her body. It allows her to trust in the truthful words of those who care for her.

Children need encouragement too, and often we are a bit stingy with this encouragement. We tell them they look beautiful and handsome, we tell them they are smart, we tell them they are the best in the world....at everything. Yep, it makes them feel good at the moment, but what does it do to them for life? I'm actually OK with a few rounds of beautiful, smart, best in the world (because I think with children they are truthfully these things to us), but then I think there needs to be another layer. We need to help them discover what is genuinely special about them....and sometimes we need to encourage them by teaching them how to make this special shine. 

Sometimes our encouragement needs to be more than words. Suppose there's a little boy that wants to be a great baseball player, but doesn't appear to have a lot of natural talent. True encouragement is not telling him he is the best player on the team and the coach is wrong in not playing him (though you are allowed to tell him he is your favorite!) Encouragement for him may be taking him out and teaching him to be a better ball player. Showing him how you improve skills and being willing to lend a hand until he becomes better. Giving encouragement that goes beyond a few insincere words, is a great gift indeed.

We don't just encourage people....we can also encourage other things in the world we think are good. You say you hate cancer....how do you encourage the eradication of that disease? Maybe you fundraiser by joining a team for something like Relay for Life, maybe you take a meal to a cancer patient, maybe you drive someone to a chemo treatment, maybe you educate people about the disease, maybe you study to be a researcher or pay for the education of someone else who has a passion to study for a career in that field. You encourage the cause you believe in....the thing you believe will make a positive change in the world.

I have always loved Barnabus in the Bible. There was this guy named Saul whose life mission became to persecute Christians. Scripture says even when he was a young man he was at the stoning of Stephen (evidently in full support.) He later arrested Christians and put them in jail. He wanted them killed. Then one day as he was traveling to Damascus he had an encounter where God changed him. His mission became to tell the world about this God he had come to know. To help Christians instead of hurt them. You can imagine how easily everyone believed that transformation story! But Barnabus....he listened to Saul. He believed him. He put his reputation on the line when he took him to the apostles and vouged for him. Barnabus believed God could change a man, and his faith in Saul enabled him to become one of the great writers and teachers of the Christian faith, who we know as the apostle Paul. Barnabus shows us that encouragement is so much more than words....and can not only change people today, but the impact can change future generations.

We live in a world of discouraged people....who naturally discourage others. The discouragers drain the world of the good, the positive. They stifle potential. You can damage or kill a person's spirit, or you can help it soar. Encouragers.....I love you and what you bring to the world. I see you in action and you encourage me. Those who haven't been good at encouraging in the past, you can change. Get out there and plant and water the good things. You just may find you have a green thumb when it comes to boosting the spirits of others. Don't just let it happen by accident. Intend to be an encourager.

Two Guys In A Balloon

Photo by Troy Bradley

So this week these two guys, Troy and Leonid, decided to take a balloon ride, from Japan to North America, hoping to break two world records (longest distance and time aloft in a gas balloon.) They began their journey last Saturday and have spent most of their last week flying over the Pacific Ocean. I began my journey from my home in Statesville, watching on my iPad, and will end up in the same place.

So they have broken the records, and now we await their landing. They are currently off of Baja, or maybe over it since they are so close, and it is about 5 a.m. They have traveled in the balloon around 6,635 miles and been at it for 159 hours. Now we watch to see where will they land and when.

It's more than two guys in a balloon. So much planning, so many people, have been involved. They have a command center in Albequerque with some of the brightest and most able experts advising them. They have chase crews at ready. Then there are all of our armchair quarterbacks...the whole ballooning community has been watching, discussing and praying for a safe flight and safe landing.

Community.....it's so important. Could these guys have done this on their own? Maybe, but their odds improve because they do not. Because of technology they have worked as a team with those on land, able to talk with them often. They use the resources at their disposal. Smart. Especially when you are backed up good people and technology.

They don't necessarily need people like me, checking my browser first thing in the morning to see how far they have traveled and what direction they are heading. Checking during the day several times, and before I go to bed at night. Reading with delight reports of their journey. Praying for their safety and wellbeing. But yet, to do something like this and know there are people the world over who care, many strangers, must make the accomplishment a bit sweeter.

Some may say that this is a silly thing, that there are so many better uses for their time and resources. Truth is they are a scientific experiment in motion. Not only is their flight something to study and learn from, teaching us how our aviation technology works at such distances, but their bodies are also being monitored to study what happens to someone traveling at high altitudes in a non-pressurized environment.

But even without this, there is the value of living the adventure. While many of us spent the week in our normal routines, they were making history. They were testing their knowledge, skill and endurance. They were taking God's gifts and saying "So, what else can we do with this?"

Most of us will never have such an experience as this. Still, we can learn a lot from it. Approaching life with a sense of adventure adds color and dimension. I don't know about you, but I feel like I have too many wasted days. Too much humdrum. Days that aren't celebrations of life, but are spent coasting in lethargy in the gray. Living by rote instead of basking in a delightful celebration of life. Don't let your only celebration of your life be by others after your death. You don't need to break world records. Sometimes it is living the humdrum with a whole different attitude.

As you adventure through life, who have you chosen in your command center? Are those advising and supporting you really experts in the areas for which you ask for their advice, or are they just someone you have casually grabbed at random, whose advice and support is hit or miss? Do you have people who will watch your back, even if you haven't asked them? People who will cheer you on to success and invest time, resources, and prayers on your behalf just because? Who will talk out the mistakes with you, helping you learn and grow? You probably do, whether you access them or not is another question. Sometimes you must open your eyes and reach out your hands and ask for them to join you.

In a few hours we will see this flight come to an end. It's sort of like the Super Bowl for balloonists, though we're all cheering for the same team. They have overcome many battles to get here, followed their game plan, made adjustments as necessary, and they have conquered many strong and worthy opponents. While the game is not quite over yet, many are anticipating that time with cheers. We are proud of their accomplishment. We are proud they have set the bar a bit higher. Congratulations guys. Welcome back to earth, Troy and Leonid, the Two Eagles Balloon Team. God is laughing in delight with you. So am I. Thanks for letting me join the journey. It's been fun. Soft landings!

"May the winds welcome you with softness.

May the sun bless you with its warm hands.
May you fly so high and so well that God
joins you in laughter and sets you gently
back into the loving arms of Mother Earth."

                                 The Balloonists Prayer

But I thought I hated it......

I really hated running. Every step I would run I would be reciting a mental mantra of "I hate this. I really hate this. I haven't even run a minute? How can that be? How am I ever going to finish? I'd look like an idiot if I stopped now. Do I care if I look like an idiot? Why do I keep doing this to myself?" Those thoughts kept me occupied and if I hung in there, I usually would meet my goal for the day. I went from where a minute seemed to be a day to where I could run a 30-minute span and say "Yes!" While I never got that "runner's high" others have talked about, there were moments of pleasure and accomplishment. But still, progress or not, overall I hated it.

So why did tears come to my eyes when they told me I couldn't run anymore? I always would have thought that if someone told me that there would be tears of joy, but they weren't. It made me sad. It frustrated me. I felt regret. Why is that?

Running brought good things to my life. I got to spend good quality hang-out time with friends. We had long conversations as we tried to build our bodies up, and in the process stayed in touch with each other's lives. We wore tutus, were chased by zombies and rolled in the mud. I lost weight. I learned that time invested eventually paid off....but could be lost if not maintained. Running was an exercise I could do in my own neighborhood, or even on the treadmill in my own house. Running required good shoes, but little else in the way of equipment. It did the job and made it easy. Once I got a treadmill, I really had few excuses as to why I couldn't do it. (Don't worry.....I developed some good ones. I am creative!)

But the biggest impact running had on my life was the work it did on my brain. While my mind ran that tape of negative messages, the actual run negated them. Running reminded me that my mind can be my enemy. It is often a liar. My mind tells me I can't do things that I later prove that I can. It tells me that I'm not good enough, don't have what it takes to succeed, that I am not athletic and that is something you are born with....or not (I, of course, was a not). My brain tells me obstacles are insurmountable. It tells me that I am all I ever can be....that I won't get better and if anything I will regress. My mind doesn't always respect me, and yes, I would say that it even hates me sometimes.

The truth is that we're more amazing than the limits of our mind. You've heard the saying "What the mind can conceive, you can achieve." Another lie. We can achieve so much more than we ever can imagine.

A lot of us have minds full of negative messaging. I think some is innate. The biology predisposes us to think in a certain way. Think of depression. Think of our attitudes after a sleepless night. Think of the hormones of adolescence. We were a bit crazy at that time, for no apparent reason. I remember coming home from a perfectly good day if school, going to my bedroom and crying my eyes out, while thinking "Why am I doing this? Nothing is wrong!" I kept it to myself, but had I asked someone like the adult me, I would have gotten an explanation.

Some of us have spent a lifetime receiving negative messaging from those around us. Some mean to say negative things about us, yes, but the vast majority don't. Or do, but wouldn't if they knew the impact they really have one us. (Though never discount that there are some people out there who are either mean and/or unbalanced. They come with no rational explanation.) Sometimes we interpret subtext that isn't there. Sometimes we bear the brunt of their own issues...they feel bad about themselves and want us right there with them. Sometimes they think they know us, know our potential, know our character, and know our weaknesses. They may know something about us, but nobody ever knows everything about us. We forget they are only human, and their judgments, like our own, are limited. Some may be based on truth, but not the whole truth.

Running showed me I could do something that I thought was impossible. I remember the first time someone called me a runner. It was a casual reference they made to someone else, which made it all the more special. It wasn't pandering to me. That is how he thought of me. He saw me run, no matter the quality, and to him I was a runner.
 
I also did have the naysayers (or nay thinkers). Friends who would make veiled comments about my lack of potential. I finally got so I would say to myself "Yeah, I used to think it was impossible for me, too." Once again, their issues, their opinions....not necessarily truth. But for every one of them, there were probably five who said "Of course you can."

I never wanted to be a runner of any great caliber. I liked it simply because it was fast and efficient and effective exercise. I ran worse in the few races I ran in than I would run on my own. My best running was in private. I liked the runs I would do in my own neighborhood . I found people would often discourage or intimidate me more than motivate me (this was not their fault, but once again the fault of my warped mind). It was in my neighborhood, all by myself, that I first ran for thirty minutes without stopping. It was my neighborhood that I built a personal routine focused on improvement. It was in my neighborhood that I celebrated most of my victories, alone and quietly. It was in my neighborhood that I could throw shoes on, go outside, and start fighting to win the battle in my mind. It was in my neighborhood that I could quiet myself the best and actually acknowledge the humorous mental battle I had going on in my head.

My body has been incredibly healthy all of my life. I've never gotten a stitch, never broken a bone, never had an injury that made me have to do more than limit activity for a day or two. When I started to have problems with my knees, I never thought it was anything serious. But when the pain got worse, and the x-ray showed the damage was not something that would heal and go away, I was told running would lead to a definite knee surgery. Therefore, no running in my future, since I am surgery adverse. There are many other exercise alternatives certainly, but it will take a while to find something that will give my body a quick and sufficient workout as effective as running, So I mourn a bit.

The news that running was not part of my future was grim. I will miss it, even though it was such a hated activity in my life. Currently I am undergoing physical therapy, to strengthen the muscles in my legs so they can support the bum knees for a long time to come. I know I will be able to hike and kayak and do many of the other things that I really love (but which haven't brought as much instant gratification in weight loss!) I will learn ways to strengthen the rest of my body. There are many, many possibilities....some which I suspect I will enjoy more than I ever enjoyed running. I'll find something that will again test my brain in its life-long conviction that I cannot do athletic things.

But the lessons I learned, I carry with me. No one knows my full potential but God.....not me, not the "experts", not the people around me. As long as I live there will be tests to show me how to get better at all of the different areas of my life. Most of these will require I exercise (or is it "exorcize") my mind. I could do as some running friends have suggested and just ignore the views of the medical professionals and continue running (some actually said "Knee surgery isn't that bad"), but there are times you ignore the experts and times you listen and re-adjust as a result of their wisdom. God nudges us sometimes to head in a different direction, and I have experienced that enough in my life to know sometimes heading in another direction is best, even if I don't always understand why. So I may not be running, but the adventure continues. Good things are ahead. My feet...and my knees... will still be taking me places I have never been before. Hopefully for a long time to come, because I intend to enjoy the journey.

My New Year's Resolution

I kinda need a new year right now, I think. Time to reboot. Time to recharge. Time to reflect on my life and think about what's right for me and what's wrong. You may understand. I have the feeling I have been on a very long roller coaster ride and finally they stop it, and force me off before I am quite ready, and I wander away, a bit off balance. OK, but not OK. Trying to process what I just did, and what I really think about it. Was it more scary than fun, or more fun than scary? Did the twists and turns thrill me or knock my body out of alignment? Am I really a roller coaster person, or more of the Ferris wheel or Merry-go-round type? And I do this while in a crowd of people whose only thought was "Whee! What a  ride!"

Rebel that I am I usually resent any forced reflection or goal setting....the call to make resolutions. I admit to feeling that way now. I am supposed to know my game plan for 2015 already, and I just don't. Some have asked what my resolutions are for the new year and I feel pressured by well-meaning friends who want to help hold me accountable. The idea of that paralyzes me at the moment. I'm not ready yet. For either the resolutions or the renewed accountability.

So I'll just say this. I am going to be kinder to myself. I'm going to make changes as I become ready to make changes. Some may be visible to you, most....the important ones, probably will not. But being kind to me....I want that to be my focus.

We're our biggest critics. Not only do we let our own voice berate us, but we let the voices of others. Real and imagined. Valid or not.

While others seem very motivated by big goals, they aren't usually helpful to me. They overwhelm. When others feel moved to action by criticism, even valid and kind criticism, it often weighs me down and keeps me from moving and growing. I'm a bit more self-reflective than most, and I don't see the world in quite the same way as others. I am over-analytical of things to which others don't give a thought. Knowing this about myself, I need to give myself a break. Relax more. Not be moved by the urgent, but instead shape my life to reflect the important. Make sure the voices I pay attention to are not the loudest or ones who declare they have all the answers, but to the ones that reflect my personal mission and my personal beliefs.

But the kindness thing....that needs to be my overwhelming goal. I think that may be the one that gets me where I need to go. I am not talking about a wimpy kindness that doesn't challenge or force growth. I need the opposite. I need to move ahead, knowing that I have a purpose for living, and then make sure my life is built to support my purpose. What and who in my life is helpful to that purpose, and what drags me down? That doesn't mean that I necessarily drop the difficult people, because sometimes learning to deal with them is important. Sometimes loving them well is my purpose. But I may need to prune other relationships that require effort and energy and don't seem to add much to my life (or me to theirs.) And I don't want to neglect the people of my heart....who deserve my best, and not just scraps. They are the life-givers, the one that are used by God to refresh and renew my soul. They need time and undivided attention. Not just for them, but for me.

I'm coming out of a 2014 that was wonderful in many ways, but that also leaves me feeling drained and  battered. Kindness will clean and bandage the wounds and lead to healing. And maybe some scar tissue that is formed will be a bit tougher than the rest of my skin...making me both tougher and still part tender. For me change will not come at full impact as I drew a line in the sand at midnight last night. That's too harsh for me right now. Resolutions? All I've got right now is to resolve be kind. To myself and to others. If I focus on that change, I suspect it will be a happy new year indeed. Welcome 2015. I'm glad you're here.....and I am too. I'm ready for day one.

Are You Ready For Christmas?

"Are you ready for Christmas?" Stop asking that question! For me, who hates shopping and particularly hates gift shopping, it's simply a catalyst to extra stress and pressure. It's an easy conversation starter, granted, and I am sure that I have been known to say it at times myself (being a bit of an idiot in the small talk department and eager to latch onto any cliché I can come up with), but if I hear it one more time this year I just may go a bit nuts.

No, I am not ready. Truth be told, I've been lying in bed reading since about 7:30. Yes, there are things I should be doing, but the thought stresses me out, so I just retreat. I have groceries to buy (and since I don't make a list and plan well, I will probably forget at least one key ingredient.) I have presents to buy....for MY PARENTS, for example!!!!! They are horrible to buy for. They buy what they want, and are constantly in downsizing mode. They don't like gift cards, they don't give hints, and dad especially would prefer not to have things to open. I sometimes just don't give them anything....that sounds bad, doesn't it? For Dad, especially, that is fine, and Mom too really, but why do I still feel stressed when I can't come up with a good idea?

I've got friends who are amazing gift-givers....and on one hand I don't feel the need to compete with them (because they are exceptional people and I am hopeless and I know will love me anyway, even if I arrive empty-handed), but I do want to honor them with something special. They are worth it. But chances are, no...they won't get gifts or if they are they won't be great. Or they won't be on time. I surrender. I will never be the coolest gift-giving friend. (Unless you are a kid, and then I have a chance.)

Thankfully some of the stores I bought from offered free gift wrapping this year, so there aren't a lot of gifts to wrap, but those that are will throw me in a last minute tizzy as I get ready to run out the door on Christmas day. Scissors, tape, paper, tags, bags, tissue paper, and ribbon....will I have all I need? Probably not.

I have baked nothing so far this year (so don't expect the gift of baked goods) and the caramel cake I said I would make for our family Christmas? Of course I have never made it before. Yes, they say you shouldn't do that, but when would I test recipes if not for using family and friends as guinea pigs? They come out OK on occasion. And there will be plenty of other food! The salad I am making? That will be OK, if I make the aforementioned trip to the grocery store and actually buy the fixings. But have I put any thought into what will go into it? Nooooo!

And then there is half of a day of work tomorrow, a Christmas Eve service to attend, and a trip to Greensboro to participate in a 20+ year tradition of Christmas caroling at the hospital. So how many hours until Christmas?

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we fill our plate to overwhelming?

I am not in a total frenzy.....at least externally. When the stress gets up there, I retreat, so right now I appear calm. Thankfully I was born into a family influenced by my grandmother Lois McKinney, who never seemed riled by anything like this. She knew most things were not worth getting worked up over. I've got a touch of her in me, along with my grandsha on my mom's side who was also calm in a storm, but a bit of discontent and high expectations from the other two grandparents. My mother was the "get it all done" type, and my dad, well, he just doesn't seem to notice it is a day different than other days. As for me, the nature is at war in times like these.

When I analyze it, these things that stress me out are not what I consider to be important about Christmas, or important to my relationships. I need to release myself from that stress. The real reason for Christmas is not about a box or about meeting an impossible standard. The real reason for Christmas was to release us from that pressure. We can't be good enough. We can't do it all.

"For unto you is born a Savior."

We are the reason for the season. We are the reason the Christmas gift, the Christ child, was given. If there was no one else in the world, the gift would have still been given for you. Because you are that important to God. If we are willing to receive the gift, we are ready for Christmas. That is all it takes to celebrate in the manner it was intended.

Relax, and enjoy. It is a time we should feel most loved and at peace. Not because of how we are treated by others, but because of who we are before God. Am I ready for Christmas? Why yes, I am. Bring it on! Emmanuel. God is with us. Come, let us adore him.