Braking

"It's harder to go down hill.  You have to keep your brakes on all the time."

My husband's great grandpa often said this quote.  It may seem obvious, but I don't I'm not sure we think about it all the time. 

When we travel from our house to visit family we have to go over a mountain pass any direction we go.  There are some steep grade downhill areas coming out of the passes.  In each of those areas there is a runoff truck ramp.  The creators of these roads know that semi trucks weighing many tons are coming down these hills.  Truckers have their foot on the brakes and sometimes these brakes can't take any more pressure and give out.  Trucks then turn onto these gravel roads and slow down.

The only relief for these trucks is to drag their tires uphill through deep, difficult gravel.

A few years ago while in Bozeman, Montana we had the opportunity to hike the M.  The M is a destination at the mouth of Bridger Canyon.  There are two trails up to it: one is windy, the other is extremely steep, traveling straight up the 820 feet in elevation.  As difficult as the steep trail is, the most difficult part is coming down.  Your toes try to jam themselves into the ends of your shoes.  Your knees ache from the extra force on them.  You have to be careful not to let your speed get away from you or you will go down the hill faster than your feet can keep up with.  Your head will have reached the end of the trail while the rest of your body is frantically trying to keep up so you don't get hurt. 

The only relief comes in the bends in the trail that attempt to keep you on a more level plane on your way down.

My husband's family shared a story where they took his grandma up a steep trail to use the restroom.  The adventure included some creative teamwork to get the wheel chair over roots and rocks and through the grass and dirt.  They succeeded in reaching the restroom then the most difficult part of the journey began: the trial back down.  They had to hold the front and back of the wheelchair to keep it from rolling uncontrollable down the hill. 

The only relief came from keeping the brakes on and going slowly down the hill.

Our journeys are full of hills.  Often times we think of our difficulties as a steep hill we traverse hoping to get to the top where we can enjoy the amazing view.  We forget the journey back down the hill may be difficult also.  Your brakes might fail and you have to climb back up the hill to slow down.  The trail down might be slow and windy, full of bends taking you far from where you think you should be going, but each bend is intended to keep you from hurting yourself and running faster than you are ready for down to the bottom.  Sometimes you feel like you are traveling with your brakes on.  The pace feels too slow, but you know if you let up on the brakes everything will pass you by and you may fall when you finally reach the bottom.

Journeys are unique.  The view changes with each new step.  The trials and difficult bends come and go.  We get scared about the steep climb up the hill, but we should also be cautious about the downhill journeys.  If we think we can coast to the bottom of the hill, we may either miss out on some important parts of our path or we can hurt ourselves along the way.  "It's all downhill from here" does not mean the rest of the journey will be easy.  It means we have to be careful and slowly take one step at a time.

My solution to these up and down journeys is to focus on where I am right now.  I try to watch my step.  I try to enjoy what I see.  I try to prepare myself for surprises, but ultimately I can only walk the path in front of me.  I can only see my next step.  I walk my own path.

These past few weeks I had to put on my brakes.  I caught a cold that refused to leave.  I have spent 3 weeks resting then working then resting.  I got excited when I started to feel better and took my foot off the brake then I started to fall down the hill and had to put on my brakes again.  I may have ended up in the gravel at some point when I failed to use my brakes when I should have.  I'm finally starting to feel better again.  This time I won't let my foot off the brake so quickly.

Enjoy your journey with all the ups and downs, races, and slow strolls.

Lawn Mowers

This morning my husband read me an article about lawn mower parents.  I had heard of helicopter parents, parents who are always watching over everything their kids do.  They hover and and are ever-present.  I hadn't heard of lawn mower parents until this morning.  These parents are constantly clearing obstacles out of their child's way.  Anything that might hurt them is removed.  This constant lawn mowing teaches children they can't handle adversity or stress.  It teaches them they are not strong enough for the obstacles life throws at them.

I've seen the evidence of this.  As a teacher, I hear students tell me they can't do things because they have been told they can't.  They can't handle stress.  They can't focus.  They can't do math.  None of these can'ts are true.  They simply haven't learned how yet.

As he was reading the article, I thought about the person I would be now if I hadn't passed through so much adversity in my life.  It didn't start with cancer diagnosis, but that was a big moment in my transformation.  I began to see people more clearly and had better priorities.  Each obstacle I encounter is another opportunity to become stronger, not to give up.  Each trial that falls at my feet is an opportunity to learn a better way rather than retreat in failure.

You can go back and read old posts about how I handled adversity in the big, difficult moments, but I still get excited about the little moments too.  I've had some form of a cold or left overs of a cold for two weeks now.  I've spent 3 different weekends resting to some extent so I can do my job during the week.  I could easily quit.  I could easily say "I don't feel well, see you when I do."  But I don't.  I rest when I can.  I make the smartest choices I can about what I eat and what I spend my energy on.  I don't run myself into the ground, but I also don't give up.  I took almost a week off of exercise when my cold was at its worst, but I am back to it now.  Some would use their illness as an excuse and refuse to exercise.  I have found that as long as I can, it can't speed up the healing process.  Yesterday, after my workout, I threw up.  I threw up a bunch of crud that was sitting in my chest and would have remained if I hadn't exerted extra energy.

I still get tired.  I still have days of pain.  I still have to take a day at the end of the week to recover.  However, I have overcome more obstacles than I can count in my 41 years and am thankful for each one.

I believe my adversities have made me more grounded, compassionate, understanding and peaceful. 

As you face your own difficulties, I pray no one mows them down for you so you can see how strong and amazing you are.  I pray you overcome every adversity and look back at what you can accomplish.  When the next trial comes you will know you can handle it because of all you have already accomplished.

Colds

After taking 6 weeks off of teaching last year due to back surgery, I was determined to have a healthy school year this year.  I was determined not to get sick and not to have to take a bunch of days off. 

So this past week I caught a cold.

I only had to take one sick day, but I was sick all week.  I spent most of the past two weekends on the couch trying to rest and heal so I could make it through the work week.

A little bit of pride snuck in.  I thought I could will myself to remain healthy.  I was quickly reminded I do not have the power to will health on myself.  I can only make the best choices available to me and when illness sneaks in anyway, I have to succumb and give myself time to heal. 

You can't ignore illnesses and pretend you are well, you will simply get more ill.

You can't ignore fatigue and keep moving, you will eventually collapse.  

You can't ignore a needed rest, it will catch up to you in the end.

You have to care for yourself.  

You have to eat food that makes you feel strong and powerful.

You have to exercise and let you body move and gain strength.

You have to sleep and let your mind and body rest.

I know these things.  I've been fighting against them for years.  I've been deciding between work and rest since I was in high school and choose homework or friends over sleep.  I chose motherly and wifely duties over rest when my girls were little.  I choose school work over rest for many of my early teaching years.

Then cancer came. . . then MS. . . then debilitating pain leading to back surgery and I learned that my health isn't greater than any other choice.

I'm stronger than I've ever been.  I can run and move without exhaustion.  I've learned how to eat so I have more strength and energy and I love what I get to eat.  Most importantly, I know how to rest.  I know when my body needs a break and I take it.  I know when I am catching a cold and take precautions to let my body repair itself.  I don't put myself in jeopardy by neglecting sleep.  Most importantly, I don't feel badly for taking care of myself.

If your health slips away it takes a lot of time and a lot of work to get it back. I have mine.  It doesn't matter what my medical record says.  I am healthy and amazing and having a cold for a week simply gives me a chance to remember how grateful I am for all I can do.  It reminds me it is okay to take sick days and it is okay celebrate healthy days. 

I feel like I talk about how important it is to do everything you can to remain healthy a lot, but as I look around, so many people are unhealthy.  Just 4 months ago I weighed 15 pounds more than I do now.  I didn't know I had that much weight to lose.  I didn't know I was eating food that helped to keep my mind foggy and maintain lethargic energy.  I didn't know until I changed, until I started to make different decisions.  

I want everyone to feel strong and healthy.  I want everyone to have energy and to be happy in their own skin.  I've been to all the other places of health and want to stay where I am for as long as I can.  In fact, this past week I was unable to exercise and I still lost weight (fat, not just muscle) and I still PR'd my bench press today.  I was extra fit before I got sick so I didn't lose my health.  In fact, my level of fitness probably helps me heal faster.

Take the time and energy to invest in yourself.  Your health is worth more than anything else you can invest in.

Weak Strength

I am strong and I am weak.

Sometimes I am strong.  I celebrate all I am capable of doing.  I am great at my job.  I can function physically.  I ran an easy mile the other day.  I am a good mom.  I'm a good wife.

Yet, at the same time I am weak.  I may be good at my job, but I still feel tired.  I am more capable than I should be, yet I still have so many weaknesses.

Paul said, "When I am weak, then You are strong."  He was speaking about how he can overcome his weaknesses because God gave him the strength to do so.

Perhaps that is why I feel my weaknesses and strengths simultaneously.  It isn't really that I am strong, it is that my Daddy makes me strong in my weakest moments.

So, here's to celebrating strength and weakness. 
Here's to each victory and each difficulty.  In the end, I passed through and am still here. 
Here's to moving forward every day. 
Here's to being strong when we really just want to lay down. 
Here's to being weak and not being afraid of what will come next.
Here's to our weak strength.

Beneath the Surface

This week I've noticed that the deep, dark, strong feelings life brings around on the days we are strong enough to handle them are never truly gone.  They sit just beneath the surface. 

Like a needle digging out a splinter that goes too deep, events can poke into those buried feelings and spring a leak. 

If I watch a movie or read a book about grandmas I remember and miss my grandma.  Pansies, tractors, cows (especially calves), dragonflies and the simple life remind me of her.  I remember my visits.  I remember hot chocolate and Almond Roca.  I remember walks, talks and days in the garden.  The memories are as clear as yesterday and so are the tears flowing up from the deep places where I keep them buried because my sadness is simply to painful to bear for more than a moment at a time.  Even now, the tears have returned.  My husband is going to wonder what is going on as I work to push them back to the dark place and come back to the present where Grandma is no longer here.

I read or hear stories about people fighting cancer and quickly remember the pain I bore, both physically and emotionally.  I am forever thankful that pain is in my past, but the memory of it and the scars it left behind are still very much a part of me.  I suppose the pain is why I am so happy to try to bring hope to others who are on the same fighting journey.  I have not forgotten.  I know how difficult each breath and each step becomes in those dark places and hope to provide light.

I understand loss and I understand pain.  The other day, we watched a movie that threatened to tap into my dark place.  The tears tried to overtake me and all the pain and sadness tried to wash over me.  I held it at bay.  I don't know if it's healthy to keep it buried so deep.  I haven't forgotten it.  I know it is there every moment of every day, but the flood of pain and sadness is too great for me to bear.  I see glimpses of it when life pricks a little too deep or a memory opens a window, but for the most part, the pain drives me to find healing and the sadness drives me to find joy.

I know in the midst of your difficult journey, the layer keeping your pain and sadness from overtaking you is as thin as an onion skin.  It wouldn't take much for it to fly away, to be punctured, or for others to look too deeply and see through it.  I know the pain and sadness are ultimately healthy, but the weight of them is too much to hold all at once.  You learn to feel it in waves.  I used to feel it in the restroom.  No one was going to interrupt me.  I took a moment to feel.  I breathed deep, cried, then gathered myself to go out into the world once again.

Unfortunately, the beautiful memories driving us and giving us hope are often buried with the pain and sadness.  I pray you learn how to access both and to let the memories remind you of the beauty that has formed you and the sadness will give you strength to remember in the end the sadness will also be beautiful.

It's okay to be strong and it's okay to feel every little thing coming your way whether it's beneath the surface our spouting like a geyser. 
You are okay. 
You are amazing. 
You will be victorious.