It has been a year and two weeks since I started blogging. I read over my older posts, and it surprises me how much I have changed in just a year, or at least how much my writing has.
I miss blogging like I was before. I miss coming here excitedly each day with something to say, and I am aiming to get that back again.
This place… it is part of me… it helps me…
I will be back in the game again, commenting, and writing, much more in the coming months…
In our final days with James, he asked us to memorialize him in a special way. He was not leaving any family behind, and he didn’t want a formal service. He asked that each of his friends go out and do something that they used to do with him, something that would remind them of him. Relive a good memory of him, if you will.
So Saturday, that is what we did. A group of us gathered together at one of our friend’s house. A house we used to gather at to play Dungeons and Dragons, one of James’ favorite things to do. We sat around and talked, we watched a funny movie about D&D gamers, and then we went out to Ryan’s and did some damage to the buffet there. If there was anything James loved in this world more than gaming, it was food. Not that you could tell, because he was always skin and bones, but the man could consume more food than should be humanly possible.
We laughed, we told stories about our memories and smiles. We placed a picture of him on the coffee table while we watched the movie.
At the restaurant, we had 9 people seated around a table for 10. As I sat there, laughing over something that was said, I looked across at that empty chair, and I was reminded of the Hebrew tradition of setting an extra place at the table (for Elijah I think, maybe?). And I smiled to myself, because I felt James there with us.
He would have loved that gathering. He would have laughed over the movie. He would have piled food from the buffet like it was going out of style.
He is still very much with us.
So.. .the dieting.
Well, in summary, it’s not that bad. In detail, it has had some pretty crappy moments.
Before we started this, we bought a nice digital scale so we could keep track of our progress. We agreed to only weigh in once a week, so that we don’t become obsessive with it. And at the end of the first week, we nervously stepped on the scale to find that… nothing. No weight loss had occurred at all. After a morning of feeling really angry and disappointed, we decided to hang in there and give it another week, but that we were going to more closely track our progress this week. Each morning… no loss. Yesterday morning, it showed a weight gain.
Lovely.
We eat all healthier foods, no fast foods, cut out the cokes, started exercising, and now we gain? To say that we were disappointed and at a loss would be a huge understatement. What to do now?
Then last night, out of some morbid sense of curiosity, I weighed again, and it showed a LITTLE loss. Then five minutes later, I checked again, and suddenly I had lost 8 pounds. Five more minutes, and I had gained that 8 pounds back, along with a few others. I weighed 5 times last night, and never once got the same weight. Not once, in 5 checks within 30 minutes. Here is a summary (keep in mind each weigh-in was only 5 minutes after the one before it):
#1: lost .9 pounds
#2: lost 8 pounds
#3: gained 2 pounds
#4: gained 1 pound
#5: back to my starting weight
Now, obviously, the scale is worthless. I could understand variance of 1/2 pound or less, but 8-10 pounds? There is no reason for that.
So, the bad news is, we don’t really have any idea what our progress is, and we have ordered a new scale, and we will have to start the weight tracking over again when it gets here.
The good news is, that we feel better each day, I believe we ARE making progress and that it will show once we receive our new scale, and that all hope is not lost.
But still… grrrr at the people who made that crappy scale that has caused us so much anguish.
Dear James,
I still remember the first day I met you. Mike and I had just started dating, and I came down here to visit him for the first time. You were the first of his friends that I met, and I was so very nervous. I wanted you to like me, I wanted his friends to feel that we were a good thing. I remember going into your apartment with Mike, and seeing you there, sitting at your computer, playing Star Wars. I remember you made me laugh, you made me feel comfortable.
You have always been part of Mike’s life, my friend. You were always there. Even in the years when the two of you had falling outs, James was always in the background. We would drive by your old apartment, and often, one of us would comment, “I wonder how James is doing”. You were always in our minds.
There is no one else like you, James. You had the ability to make my husband laugh when the rest of the world made him want to scream. It was impossible to stay mad at you, because you would always say just the right thing at the right time to lighten the mood.
You left us today, and we already feel the loss. We believe that we will see you again, my friend. I think that right now, you are probably in Heaven making some insanely inappropriate comment and cracking everyone up.
Know that you will be missed, James. You will never be forgotten, that place in our hearts will never be filled with anyone else.
We love you.
We miss you.
Our friend, James Hare, passed this afternoon. He will be greatly missed and always remembered. Please keep his family of friends in your thoughts and prayers.
Last week, Mike’s birthday was also an anniversary. It marked 5 years that he has been tobacco-free. I don’t know the right words to express how proud I am of him for that achievement, so let me tell you a little story.
When Mike and I met, he was a smoker. I knew he was a smoker, and I didn’t ask him to change that for me. I don’t believe in changing people like that. I fell in love with him as he was, he was my man. But he told me from the very beginning that he planned to quit… on his 35th birthday. That he knew it was not healthy, and he knew if he wanted a long life, he needed to quit, and that was the date he had set for himself. And on his 35th birthday, Mike smoked his last cigarette, and hasn’t picked up one since then.
That force of determination, that strength, is one of the qualities I love so much about my husband. He makes commitments and stands by them. He is a man of his word. He does what he says he will.
This year, on the 5th anniversary of that milestone, we make a new commitment, this time together. We are going to get healthier, we are going to lose weight and improve our lifestyle. I will not be turning this into a weight loss blog, but I wanted to make that statement here, publicly, so that I can be held accountable to my word. We want to grow old together, we want many more years together, and to facilitate that, we are making moves to be healthier.
And Mike? Congratulations on the five years, sweetheart. I never doubted that you could, and would, do it. I am so proud of you!
2010 has been a really rough year so far.
Mike and I are doing just fine, no worries there. But this year, it has been a tough one. A year full of sadness, and emotional turmoil. One of Mike’s closest lifelong friends is in a hospice home right now, in the final days of his life. Yesterday we attended a memorial service at our church for another of our members. There has been just too much of this in the past six months. Too much sadness, too much grief, too many goodbyes.
Out of the past six months, I have learned one lesson. One thing that I would wish to share with everyone I meet. One most important rule of the year for me, for us.
Don’t hold on to the anger.
Please don’t. Please, please, please don’t. This life is too fleetingly precious to carry grudges. There is not as much time as you think, and it just isn’t worth it. Just. not. worth. it. Do you have a right to that anger? Undoubtedly. Are you justified in the stance you have taken? I am sure you are. But please, please, if I could beg one thing of the people that I meet, it would be to let it go.
I used to think that issues had to be resolved before I could move past them. What I have learned is that sometimes, we can just move on. The issues might never be resolved, but do they really matter anymore anyhow? We CAN just decide to put the past behind us and move on.
My thoughts are scattered, and I am not my most coherent right now. I don’t know if this even makes any sense at all.
But I beg you, please forgive and mend the fences that you can. You will not regret doing that, and you may forever regretting not doing it while you had the chance.
Happy birthday to my wonderful sweetheart of a husband, Mike.
I celebrate each year that we are blessed to spend together, and I look forward to many, many more with you.
I pray that this day will be a wonderful one for you, and that you will know that you are loved, and you are celebrated.
I love you sweetheart.
Happy Birthday!
After the week we had last week, the last thing Mike and I wanted to do was to go out on Saturday night.
Not that last week was a bad one, mind you, but it was a chaotic, busy, stressful one. What we wanted most was to stay home, to relax, to unwind.
But we had tickets to go see a comedian named Ralphie May. A comedian we had seen live once before in our town, and had thoroughly enjoyed. A comedian we both relate to on different levels, and one who can truly make us laugh from the gut.
Believe me, we still discussed not going out that night. We were tired, we weren’t going to have any free time this weekend without SOMETHING going on. My father and sister had visited just the day before, and it was on her birthday, so we tried to make that special for her. But the week had taken its toll, and we considered staying home.
But no. We knew that we would regret it if we didn’t go. More than that, we knew we would be GLAD if we did. We had already bought the tickets. We had looked forward to this show for months. So we went.
We arrived at the beautiful historic theater he was performing in, took our seats (which were very comfortable, so two thumbs up there!), and waited for the show to begin. We watched his opening act, who performed for 30 minutes, and then Ralphie came on stage, and he performed for 2 hours.
And let me tell you, we laughed. We laughed that “laughing so hard I am crying” laugh. For two and a half hours, we laughed that laugh that cleanses the soul. The laugh that takes away the stress. The laugh that wipes away the frustrations of the past week. The laugh that leaves your face hurting from smiling so much. The laugh that leaves your belly sore, but your heart so much lighter.
It was a good laugh.
Turns out, after the week we had last week, the thing Mike and I needed to do most was to go out on Saturday night.
My father and youngest sister are arriving today to stay the night (I have 4 sisters, so I sometimes have to refer to them in the order I got them!), and I have to admit, I am very nervous about this visit. Not about seeing my Dad, if you have been reading this blog since it started, you know that he visited last year, and it went well, so that doesn’t worry me.
No, I am actually nervous about visiting with my sister. Today is her 19th birthday, and I want everything to go well, I want her to have a good day, even though they are mid-road trip. But it even goes beyond that. I think it has to do with the fact that I have not seen this sister in 6 years, and I want her to like me. We have talked over the years, we are on each other’s facebook, we have emailed and she reads my blog, as I read her tumblr. She is a funny, witty, cool girl, and I don’t want to be the dull-as-mud boring older sister, I guess.
So here’s to hoping that she still thinks I am cool, like she did when she was younger…
This topic seems to keep coming up in my life lately… helping those in need… who do I help? How do I know if they are telling the truth about their need? Is it my place to judge? I don’t have much to give, so how do I give wisely? How do I say no to someone asking for help?
A few weeks ago, after a Wednesday night youth group meeting, a member of our church staff was approached by a man as she left the meeting. He said he had come to town a month ago for a job, and the job had fallen through. He said that he needed to get back to Louisiana to his family. He said that he had been living on the streets for 23 days, and could she please help? This lady has a very soft heart, and so she did what she thought was best. She told the young man that if he would meet her at the church the next day, she would bring him some clothes. She would get him a pair of new shoes from Wal-Mart. Her and her husband would buy him a bus ticket back to his family in Louisiana. They would give him some food to eat. The man assured her that he would be back the next day. But before she left him that night, the lady drove to an ATM and got the man some cash to hold him over.
The next day, the lady and her family spent the morning on the phone with the bus company, finding out schedules, making sure the bus went where he needed it to go. She gathered up clothes from her husband’s closet, drove to wal-mart and bought a pair of shoes for the young man. She bought him a small carrying bag to keep the clothes in while he traveled. She arrived at the church that morning with bus schedule in one hand, clothes and shoes in the other. She wasn’t sure what time the man would arrive at the church, so she left the supplies and schedule with me, with instructions to call her if the man arrived so that her husband could pick him up and take him to the bus station and buy him a ticket.
The bag of clothes and shoes sat here in my office for over a week before the lady came back and took them back home.
It is stories like this, time after time, that I see here in the church office, that make me wonder… how can I be a loving Christian and help my fellow man, when the fact of the matter is that I don’t TRUST my fellow man?
I want to help people who are hurting, I really do. At the same time, I have an almost phobia-like fear of being taken advantage of. And the sad truth is… I think most of these stories are lies. I think people just want a cash handout. I just don’t trust them.
So now what do I do? How do I help? It is all well and good to say that I can help people out through the church, or that I can give to proven charities, and let them sort it out. And we do, Mike and I… we give to charities in times of need, helping out those in Haiti or sponsoring someone in a walk-for-life. We believe in giving of our resources to help out people that are hurting.
But what do I do when someone comes up to me, is standing there in my face, and asking me for help? More than that, what am I SUPPOSED to be doing? I don’t want to be judgmental, but I am. If I am completely honest, I am very judgmental in that situation. I find myself looking over a person thinking “well that’s a nice hair-do you got there” or “looks like you had enough money for a manicure” and I find myself turning them away. I don’t feel proud of that. I don’t want to be the harsh person. I want to be kind.
And yet, at the same time, I know that we are responsible for being wise stewards of our money. I know I am not helping a drunk by giving them alcohol money. I am not helping an addict by giving them money for drugs.
The only answer I have been able to come up with so far is that I will try not to judge WHO I help, but I will discern HOW I help. I will NOT give cash, but to the best of my ability, I will help those that ask. If they need food, I will try to buy them a meal. If they need gas to get to the doctor, I will try to put some gas in their tank. I will be safe, I will protect my own security, but I will try to help.
Round and round and round we go, where we stop… nobody knows. The arguments in my head spin like a playground merry-go-round.
I will help, but…
I will be kind, but….
I just don’t know…
What about you? What do you do in those situations? Do you struggle with this?
Maybe your answers will shed a little light on the subject for me…
