My Healthy Birthday ...

It’s been quite a while since posting on this blog. There has definitely been a lot that has changed in my life. I’ll try to put words to paper to give my journey justice, but I doubt this can or will be accomplished appropriately. It is simply a passion that I now relay to you.

I have a new birthday!!
Yes, I’m now a little over a year and a half old. On April 7, 2014 I started on a journey of what I hoped would be weight loss. Sounds like a diet! Sounds pretty normal. Sounds doable. Sounds like I might fail … again! Sounds like I may lose some weight … again! Sounds like I may gain some or all of it back … again! After all it’s a diet. Isn’t that what happens with all diets? But, little did I know of where I was headed … the ride, the roller coaster, the mountains, the meadows, the tears, the laughter, the pain of exercise, the exuberance of movement, the dreaded scale, the thrill of small results … oh, the journey that I set out on, and the journey that I continue!

I am 4’9” tall, so you can definitely say that I am vertically challenged. I also share, that on my first weigh-in, I was 199.5 pounds. So your vision is correct … I was as wide as I was tall. I’m not sure at what point during my gradual, but very steady weight gain, that I actually saw myself in the mirror and felt that it was okay to be the size I was, or look the way I looked, or more importantly feel the way I felt. My only justification has to be, that it was simply such a gradual progression, that I was blind to the vision, and grew accustomed to the aches and pains. Can you even imagine growing accustomed to aches and pains? But, to me, that is one of the first symptoms of food addiction. If I had broken a bone and had pain, I would have gone to the doctor to fix it! If I had slipped on the ice, and my back was aching, I would have gone for x-rays to check it out. If I had tripped over my dog and banged my knee and had pain, I would have readily picked up the phone and called the orthopedist. If I had had a bad cold or flu, and couldn’t breathe fully, I would have been on the exam table in my primary care physician’s office. But somehow, when one suffers from food addiction, and the subsequent weight gain associated with that addiction, it suddenly becomes satisfactory to become accustomed to aches and pains. “I’m just so overweight, my knees hurt.” “If I didn’t weigh so much, I’m sure my back wouldn’t hurt.” “If I wasn’t wearing this flotation device around my waist, it wouldn’t hurt so much to bend over and tie my shoes.” “If I could just lose some weight, I could climb this flight of stairs without gasping for breath.” Or my favorite, “I get so short of breath. I inherited my Daddy’s lungs.” Somehow, somehow it is okay to justify the aches and pains associated with obesity, and if not actually justify it, accept that it just is what it is. But it doesn’t have to be that way!!

Obesity is a leading cause of many illnesses. Heart disease, hypertension, diabetes, orthopedic issues, pulmonary issues, and the list goes on, and on, and on!!! But the good news is obesity is treatable!! Treatable!! Treatable!! Yes, it is treatable!!! Is it easy to treat? Absolutely not!!!!! There is a patchwork quilt of diet plans on the market today. Low carbs, low proteins, high proteins, low sugar, low sodium, vegetarian, vegan, shakes, smoothies, liquid diets, diet pills, diet teas, herbal remedies, tree bark, Weight Watchers, Nutrisystem, Slim Fast, Optifast. And, I bet, I have only named a handful. Is there any wonder why we are all so confused, and bouncing from one attempt to another, with little or no success, and weight loss and gains moving faster than the Championship Yo Yo Winner? But, it is treatable!!!! It is treatable!!! Everyone will have their BEST EVER diet and plan that works for them. They will try to convince you that you should do the same. I won’t do that, because I am a firm believer of “to each their own.” But I will use one word. One word that my health educator and coach has used over, and over, and over, and over again with me … BALANCE!!!! There is a balance needed. It is needed for health, for the body, for all the moving parts to work together. And to me, even more importantly, it is needed for maintenance and sustainability of a true life change that can and needs to continue forever. To steal a comment from another success story … It is never “before and after.” It is always “before and now.” There is never an “after.” There is always a “now.” Balance is what makes the “now” just keep on going!!

So my journey …
I can’t tell you how many times I would say, while watching Oprah, “if I had someone fixing my food, and if I had a personal trainer, and a gym, I could lose weight, too.” Well, I finally got the opportunity to put my time, money, and effort where my mouth was … literally!! I work at Baptist Health Care, and they had an employee wellness initiative. Boy, do I love the word Wellness! They had a wellness initiative they offered to their employees. They offered the HMR Diet Plan, coupled with a gym membership, and a personal trainer for 13 weeks. Then they went the step further, and offered the continuing support classes for an additional 6 months. So, there in front of me was the food, the support, the gym, and the trainer for 13 weeks. The catch … we had to sign up for the full 9 months! So, I now had the choice to put my time and effort where my mouth had been. No excuses, the offering was right in front of me. And, I did it!! I attended my first class on April 7, 2014. My healthy birthday!

I walked into the meeting room with the same feelings of every other diet I had started. Here I go again!!! I didn’t even tell friends or family I was embarking on yet another attempt. Too hard to justify months later why I was still overweight or had completely dropped out again!!! So, I attended my first meeting with the same dread, same reservations as before, but I have to admit with a renewed hope. Had I finally had enough? Had I finally gotten sick and tired of being sick and tired? Had I finally looked in the mirror and saw what really looked back at me? One of the first questions we were asked, was why we had joined the program? So many folks shared they were pre-diabetic, or had heart disease, or had arthritis, or had hypertension, or had hypercholesterolemia, or had strong family history and were trying to practice prevention. The only response that came out of my mouth, was that I was so tired of putting head to pillow at night and being so greatly disappointed with myself. Enough said.

We met our health educator and personal trainer that first night. Brandon! God love Brandon!! You will see his name mentioned in this post and several to follow, I am most sure. We were also his first HMR class. He had been a trainer for several years, but we were his first HMR class. God love Brandon! He will never know the true gift he has been to so many people. I can only hope that he can feel the love we all have for him. He has literally saved our lives. But I digress … the first meeting. We weighed in, of course. The dreaded scale, my nemesis, my fear, my enemy, and the one thing I still fight with!! But after weigh-in, Brandon conducted our meeting, and we quickly saw that we were not just learning about the Phase 1 of the HMR Diet Plan, but he was offering us so much good advice about health, nutrients, sleep, exercise, and oh yes, the BALANCE of the importance of all of it. Our class was about an hour or a little longer, but the time flew by. Now came the challenge of following the plan for the next week, so we could face the scale again! Phase 1 of the HMR Diet Plan is extremely regimented. It is a no-brainer, very easy to follow. It is designed to help you lose the most weight possible in that first 13 weeks. This not only serves the purpose of losing weight, but it also is a great motivator. When you see results, you naturally want to continue. Then after the first 13 weeks you move into Phase 2, which is gradually putting “normal” foods back into your system, but in a healthy, planned, and controlled manner. Living in the real world but in a healthy way. Tons of fruits and vegetables, lean protein, whole grain, and healthy fats. Again that word … BALANCE!!

For the first 13 weeks (and even for a bit afterwards) I wore the same ugly blue dress. I wanted to make sure that when I weighed that my clothing did not affect the results on the scale. At the end of this post, I will share the picture. I eventually quit wearing that dress, and Brandon had the pleasure of ripping it to shreds. I still have that dress. It is my trophy!!

So this is the beginning of my journey. From April 7, 2014 to December 29, 2014 I lost 70 pounds!!!! I lost 30 pounds in Phase 1, which truly was a motivator to continue onward. I lost the next 40 pounds in Phase 2, and I am down another 5 to 7 pounds (depending on whether the scale is being a brat or not.) It would be wonderful to hit the magic 80 pounds of loss, but at this point, it is a number in my head. I am a healthy, active, in fact more active person, than I have been since my high school years. And believe me, high school is a long way in my past. I am 16 months old in my healthy birthday calculation, and 62 years old in my “normal” birthday!!! When I look at my years in this stage of my life, one of my biggest regrets of my years of obesity, are truly the years that I lost being unhealthy. Until I returned to a healthy state, I couldn’t fully comprehend what I was missing. But it is clear, oh so clear now! But, I elect not to dwell on the past and feel sorry for those days, but embrace my future and live it! Sometimes we have to weather a storm before we can enjoy the sunshine.

I’ll continue to share my journey in future posts. There is so much more to tell!! We’ve only just begun. The excitement of exercise is next!!! And believe me, it’s not always a pretty sight. In fact, it rarely if ever is!!! But, I can assure you, it is always most entertaining.

But in keeping with my outlook on life., all things are only possible through our faith and our God. God truly put me in the right place, at the right time, with the right folks. This journey has never been one step at a time by me the whole way. It has always been one step at a time with much support from many. And, of course, with God as my pilot!

Dodge Ball ...

Have you ever worried and fretted over something to the point of distraction? Maybe instead of asking “have you ever”, I should more accurately ask “when was the last time you fretted over something to the point of distraction? I would wager a bet that all of us, if we are being honest, would not go much further out than a week or so. In our busy work and home lives, it seems there is always plenty of reason for worry … great or small.

I recently have worried quite a bit over leaving my home church of over 20 years. The rug was pulled out from under me, and my soft spot to fall is no longer available to me. This Lenten season, I have spent a lot of time pondering, praying, and searching for a new connection, someplace I fit.

When times of worry arrive, I like to play “Dodge Ball With The Devil.” As we are told, “let go, and let God.” But how many times do we truly let go and let God? It seems we always take it back. Thus … “Dodge Ball With The Devil.”

Who among us hasn’t played dodge ball with our friends on the school playground? I remember taking turns on who was going to get the ball first. Then the others lined up against a brick wall … hopefully without windows! The person with the ball starts to toss the ball at friends against the wall, and if you get hit, then you take the ball and try to hit another person who then takes your place. And the rotation continues.

So when you play “Dodge Ball With The Devil” you give God your concerns. However, often the devil may try to get you to take them back. He tosses these issues your way, very slyly he tries to hit you, look to the left, to the right, move quickly and dodge, dodge, dodge … just don’t let him get you! Each time you dodge what the devil throws your way, God grasps these issues in His strong, loving arms, and handles them His way in His time. When we try to take control and take back what we have given to God, in essence we have let the devil fire them at us and strike us. Be steadfast and dodge, dodge, dodge … Let Go and Let God!

Roamin'...

I have recently and quite appropriately been called a “Roamin’ Catholic.” I suppose this is indeed a proper title. After having spent almost 20 years at a specific church and very involved with the choir, prayer committee, and often other activities, I have left my church. I have left my home, my soft spot to fall.

I am now, this Lenten season, on my personal journey to find a “new home.” I have taken with me on this journey, the pain that has followed from my previous home. But I know with God’s helpful hand and his miraculous direction, I will indeed find a new home. I share the words below from a song recently sung during a Sunday liturgy. It is by Whitaker, entitled "In Every Age". They speak to me …

Long before the mountains came to be and the land and sea and starts of the night,
Through the endless seasons of all time, you have always been, you will always be.

In every age, O God, you have been our refuge.
In every age, O God, you have been our hope.

Destiny is cast, and at your silent word we return to dust and scatter to the wind.
A thousand years are like a single moment gone,
As the light that fades at the end of the day.

In every age, O God, you have been our refuge.
In every age, O God, you have been our hope.

Teach us to make use of the time we have. Teach us to be patient even as we wait.
Teach us to embrace our every joy and pain,
To sleep peacefully, and to rise strong.

God, you have been our hope, you have been our refuge,
You have been our hope.

During this same liturgy, I was feeling quite alone. I looked around and didn’t see anyone I knew, which was new to me, having been so long with my previous church and knowing so many of the special people in the community. But then the hand of God did reach out to me. At the “sign of peace” a tradition during a Catholic Mass, I heard behind me a voice that said, “Sharon!” I turned and it was a former member of my other church, smiling from ear to ear, and she blew me a kiss. My little piece of home had followed me. I admit I wept with the softness I felt. Dinner followed Mass that evening, and a renewal of an old friendship made new.

In every age, O God, you have been our refuge. In every age, O God, you have been our hope.

Forward ...

Pedro Arrupe, SJ, was the 28th Superior General of the Society of Jesus, leading the Society in the realities of serving the Church and people in the post-Vatican II world. Arrupe was a man of great spiritual depth who was committed to justice. He writes, “Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in a love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”

This Wednesday, March 5, 2014, is Ash Wednesday. And, so we start another Holy season of Lent. As a cradle Catholic, this season within the liturgical calendar of the Roman Catholic Church, has always been a time of melancholy and thought for me. I usually feel pangs of inadequacy during Lent for having not “given up” the right thing, praying as much as I should, giving alms as I should, and not “doing” enough good deeds as I should. This year, however I have an even larger challenge. I have left my church. I have left my soft spot to fall. I have left my home. For reasons too painful and too complicated to put to paper, I have left my church.

So this Lent, I start my journey to find a connection again within a church. I need to often remind myself that not “being” in a specific church does not change my relationship with God. In fact, I have turned to Him more in the last several weeks during this painful journey. I go forward with quiet resolve to find my “spot.” I don’t know how long it will take, or if I will ever find a new home in church. It is so hard when what I had before was so calming to me. But the main task is to go forward.

I know I will stumble and fall on this journey. But if my resolve is to keep my eyes fixed to His power and glory, I know that when I fall, my frail hand will be taken by Him with a gentle pull. The blessed pull to move forward. Saint Mother Theodore Guerrin has stated, “We do not know whether we have a long time to live or not. It might be that this year will be the last God will give us to work for Him and to prove to Him our love.” Oh, my urgency of moving forward

The Flowers Still Come

After my Mother's death, I kept a journal.  I would write daily at times, then it would stretch to weeks, to months, and then sometimes just a writing on a very special occasion.  Below is an entry I made on the second Mother's Day after my Mother's death.  I still remember when this happened and how it touched my heart.  I share today in honor of all our Mother's both alive and in Heaven.

The Flowers Still Come …

Mother’s Day, 2006

I am now celebrating the second Mother’s Day without my Mother.  When I awoke this morning, I felt the immediate need to make the journey to the cemetery to deliver my flowers and spend a little time at my Mother’s grave site.  As I pulled into the cemetery, I saw a car parked to the side of the paved path, and I observed two people walking across the cemetery on their personal journey as well.  As I grew nearer I realized that I knew these two people … they were actually the parents of one my friends, and they have to be in their mid 80’s.  They both had bouquets of flowers, and that is when I noticed exactly which graves they were going to visit.  They split apart a bit, and then I saw them place their flowers on their Mothers’ graves.  Their Mothers must have been gone for decades at this point, yet the flowers still come.  This touched my heart in a way that hasn’t happened before.  It was my affirmation that it doesn’t matter how long our Mothers have been gone, they are never forgotten and memories abound for the rest of our lives.  After placing their flowers, they walked back to each other, took hands, and returned to their car.  I stood silently alone for a while, talked with my Mother, and then returned to my car.  These fifteen minutes enriched my Mother’s Day this year, and this sweet little couple has no idea they were such a part of it.  Our Lord certainly sends His loving touch in the most simplistic of ways.  We only need to be attentive.  The flowers still come.

Reflection …  My God of infinite love and mercy, I realize more and more that I live in the presence of your love. There is no way that I couldn’t, even if I tried, because you never give up on your children.  Open my heart to your continued love and fill it with the peace that only you can give.

Precious Life ...

Sometimes it takes the saddest and hardest events in life to shock us back to what is really important.

Last Thursday, April 19, a dear friend and fellow choir member suffered the bursting of a cerebral aneurysm, and she died early Saturday morning, April 21.  She was only 48 years old.  But, oh what she packed into those 48 years!  She experienced life with full enthusiasm. She took care of family and friends to the extent that she made it her personal mission to be custodian to many. She loved to travel, and she spent many hours in her car driving from place to place. She was in Colorado when she passed away, and it took several days for her to return home. Another choir member said, “Well, that’s just Stacy.  She’ll need to stop off several other places on her way home.”  This is so true.  Stacy loved Facebook, and I would be totally worn out and fatigued just reading her posts when she would be on one of her traveling jaunts.  Certainly no grass grew under her feet.

If there are lessons I learned from my friend, Stacy, they would have to be centered on just taking time for others and being available.  Stacy didn’t "work", and I used to think how much easier it must have been for her to be in so many different places. But now on thinking this through in more depth, I’m not sure it was a time issue, but more an issue of just making herself available.  Yes, I work.  I work more than 40 hours per week, so I do have a time restriction during those work hours. But I can still be available.  Available with a smile, available with a hug, available with a quick call to encourage, console, or for a quick “hello and thinking of you.”  I can be more available to schedule and plan events with my friends. Available to “step out of the box” and experience new things.

When someone so young, and with so many more opportunities “to do things” passes, it causes pause and reflection of how life is being spent. Stacy had recently posted on her Facebook, “Since none of us really know when the end of our journey is coming; love, laugh, and live like there is no tomorrow.”

Yes, Stacy, Life … Precious life.  God bless you and keep you.

Meet the Flood's

Isn’t it strange how we meet folks?

My Mother was always diligent about keeping flower arrangements on my Father’s headstone. She would make sure that Daddy’s grave site had Christmas flowers and Easter flowers.  Since Mother wintered in Florida, and my sister lived out-of-town, I was responsible for his birthday fresh bouquet in February, his green carnations for St. Patrick’s Day, and a purple arrangement for Lent. That would take us through the period from after Christmas right up to Easter, and Mother would take over from that point.

In March 2005, Easter was on March 27. The Saturday before Easter, Holy Saturday, Mother took me to the cemetery to see the arrangement she had placed on Daddy’s headstone. She was so happy with the outcome of the arrangement. She had worked directly with the florist to ensure that it was unique and had all the lovely spring colors that she and Daddy had always loved.  Little did she know, that she had picked out the flowers that would be part of her own headstone.  You see, Mother died very suddenly the Wednesday after Easter that year. She had placed those flowers on Daddy’s grave on March 24, and on April 1 she had been lovingly placed in her final “earthly” resting place. Note that I say “earthly” resting place. She and Daddy’s final resting place is in Heaven with our Lord.

After Mother’s death, I began visiting the cemetery daily or at least several times weekly. Within about the first 2 to 3 weeks, and after a quite fierce storm, I noted that the flower arrangement on the headstone was no longer in place. When I glanced around the immediate area, I saw an arrangement across the narrow road up against another tombstone.  I walked over to check it out, and I was almost 100% sure that it was my parent’s flower arrangement.  I picked it up and turned to take it back to my parents' grave. Then I had this terrible sensation that it might not be the one my Mother had so diligently picked out, and really did belong to the folks where it lay.  I looked at the name on that tombstone and the name was “Flood”.  It was a rather broad tombstone.  Not knowing the “right thing” to do, I said out loud, “Mother, I’m sorry if I am giving away your flowers, but I’m just not sure, so I will buy you and Daddy a new one.”  Then I placed the wayward floral arrangement atop the “Flood’s” tombstone.

It has been amazing to me that in the 7 years since that time, I have placed numerous arrangements on Mother and Daddy’s grave site. Some have lasted until they have faded and appear worn, and others have disappeared within a few days to weeks of being placed. But the “Flood’s” arrangement has never budged from that tombstone. 

I shared this story with a friend of mine, whose parents are buried in the same cemetery.   She, too, began to check out the “Flood’s” grave site. Together we would watch this same worn out arrangement placed atop their tombstone.  One Memorial Day, during the Mass held in the cemetery, the priest presiding remarked that he felt one of the saddest things was an unkempt grave. My friend, who was attending the Mass, immediately thought of the “Flood’s”.  So now, between the two of us, we have begun to maintain that grave site.

We have often wondered why no one ever came. Then we found the probable reason. We finally truly read their tombstone. There are 6 people buried at this site. Three on one side and three on the other side of the marker.  Their dates of death are, on one side 1937, 1910, 1939.  On the other side 1925, 1975, 1963.   I believe this little family may all be gone.  Five have last names of "Flood" and one just says "A Friend".  How special is that?

My friend and I will continue to place arrangements for the “Flood’s”.  We now feel a bond with them.  Maybe one day, we will all meet in Heaven.  It is indeed strange how we come to meet folks.