When God showed up.

Is it me that shows up, or is it God in me that shows up?

I would be remiss to not document the epic nature of this day. Remember, Thursday (two days ago) was round two of my steroid shots. And on Thursday (two days ago) I could barely stand. And here it is, Saturday. And this is what happened today:

I spent the morning with God. Like every morning in the past two weeks. This, in itself, has been an epic and essential part of my life. It's a joke that I try to maintain a relationship with God when I don't give Him any of my time. Anyone else in my life would have moved on by now. Some have. And who could blame them?

As I was writing in my journal this morning about my physical struggle, God put it in my heart to toss all my junk food out. All of it. So I did. Anything questionable in my house that was impeding my progress was purged. That was amazing.

God showed up.

Mid-morning I went down to NC State to have lunch with the Wizard. Now if you don't know her, you are really missing out. All the while, my leg feels stronger, my back felt loser, and my heart felt fuller. Yeah, fuller.

Do I dare try a workout? I did dare. And I was so...nervous. I have felt defeated, watching myself gain weight back and not be able to control it. Watching my progress turn to regress is heartbreaking. I got on the bike and started pedaling.

And then, God showed up again. In the form of my friend Nancy who works out at the Y frequently, walks with a cane, and never fails to smack my perspective back in line. I said a simple hello to Nancy, but what I really wanted to say is: "you INSPIRE me. Every single day that I see you, and I don't tell you that enough."

So I biked. And I did an upper body workout, and I have never, ever felt so grateful for my hands. And my feet. And the ability to walk. And strength. And progress and struggle and all points in between. Because amidst the peaks and valleys, no matter where I am, God shows up.

I know SO many of you prayed for my healing. I cannot thank you enough. I am overwhelmed with gratitude, and humbled by your love for me. Because of you, God showed up.

It's time for me to start showing up for God a little more.

-Liz

Dear high school me...

Last weekend I went up to PA to visit my family and to meet my friend Dee so we could road trip back down to NC together.

I had some downtime on Saturday, so I decided to go over to my alma mater's track and run a little bit. Things have certainly changed since I was at Unionville High School. Now the track is crazy fancy, the football field is turf, and there are advertising billboards everywhere. When I went there, the track was gravel, the football field was full of divots, and the only advertising was the occasional announcement over the PA during halftime.

This is a picture of the field at the high school. This is also a picture of me beginning a reminiscing process that took me back to high school me. High school me hated this track. She feared it. She watched people run around it and wonder how they did it. She had to take P.E. on it and used the old "I have cramps" excuse more than a few times. (sorry, boys...TMI?)

She was also very insecure, and hid her body behind clothes that were baggy, made for boys, and plain enough to never draw attention to herself. She was defeated, knowing there was more out there for her, but afraid to try.

So last Saturday, I took high school me for a run. And we did the fastest 4 mile run I have EVER done. 4 miles in 48 minutes. That's a big deal. Each lap around that track was a marked victory for me. This lap is for high school me, to remind me that I can do it. This one is for high school me, to reclaim the dignity I never showed to myself. This one is for high school me, to give me back the respect and worth that I deserve. Lap after lap after lap.

It is good for us to reminisce. It is VERY good for us to confront the past and not let it poison our present. So go down memory lane if you are so bold, but make sure you bring Jesus with you. Last Saturday, He was pretty clear about running with me around memory lane, but then driving with my friend Dee and I back to North Carolina, to a present where things are looking brighter and brighter.

-Liz

What are we hiding from?

I was just on myfitnesspal.com. It's a great website that tracks calories and exercises for you, and has lists of foods in and out of restaurants, etc. I have the app on my iphone and it has REALLY been a help.

ANWAYS...I was reading someone's blog post where they posted before and after pictures, in the mirror, of 33 pounds before and 33 pounds after. I was reading through all of the replies, the congratulations, etc. and there was one that REALLY got me. One woman replied to the photos by saying:

"Wow, I wish I had taken more before photos, but I was always trying to stay out of the picture."

Painful. Profound. Honest. It has me thinking the same thing. I never took before photos. I am still not taking photos. Why? I'm not scared to jump in a group photo. But I am scared of taking photos of my work in progress. Am I still trying to stay out of the picture?

Just a question of...what are we hiding from? Is it a person? Is it ourselves? Is it our potential? What are we afraid of?

I don't know the answers. I do know that, for me, sometimes it is painful to acknowledge change and be the center of attention. It's hard to take a compliment, and it's scary to find myself in a new reality. But it's the good kind of scary. Like a leap of faith. Like trusting someone. Like accepting love. Like accepting that someone loves me unconditionally.

I am losing weight because I am loved, not because I want to be loved. See the difference? After 35 years, I do.

-Liz

Giving away your "big" clothes should be freeing. Right?

Last night I decided to tackle round two of giving away my old clothes. I had been throwing clothes into my guest room as I tried them on and they were just too big for me.

The first time I got rid of old clothes, it was pretty awesome. They were baggy clothes to being with because that's what I am comfortable in, but when I got rid of them, I just couldn't keep wearing them, it looked ridiculous. So last night, I went through clothes that were a little more difficult to part with. T-shirts mostly, that I have had for years. Old standards. Not too tight, not too baggy.

What I am learning lately, is that, I don't have a choice to go back to the old Liz. Lately, I find myself making decision to safely keep me on the right path. This latest clothes dump is a big one for me. I won't ever go back to that size, and more importantly, I won't ever go back to what that girl believed about herself. Now that these shirts are gone, so are my options to give up.

It's crazy how what we wear is such a reflection of how we feel. In every way. I will miss those old t-shirts, but they are just things. They aren't the memories themselves. Now I know how people get on that show Hoarders.

I gotta go find some more stuff to get rid of.

-Liz

Our first trip to Jamaica, in March of 2010. This shirt is in
the stack to go.



The Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day of last year. Bye Bye,
Kimley-Horn KISS tee.




Jamaica, December 2011.




Our spring break Washington, DC trip in March of last year.



There is no Plan B.

This picture was taken in December of 2010. You are looking at it, and it's unbelievable. Maybe, if you know us, you have seen it before. And most of you know the story behind it. But Dee shared something with me a few days ago, an update to this photo, that has still rocked my world, and it's something I will never forget.

This picture was taken in December of 2010. It was our second trip to Jamaica, but our first trip to the infirmary. The infirmary is more like, a home for the forgotten. Some are elderly, some are handicapped, all are people that have no other home. No family to care for them, no person to hug them, no home to die peacefully. So here they are, in an infirmary: a long room, lined with rusty beds and dirty mattresses.

We arrived empty handed. Our purpose was just to talk to the men and women there. Our mission was to show Jesus Christ to them. Not in our words, but in our touch. For me, it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I felt like my feet were glued to the floor. I was supposed to just go up to these people and pray for them? To hold their hands? To comfort them in their pain? How do I do that when I can barely take a step?

I was deep inside my own insecurity when I turned around to see this scene. My friend doing one of the most courageous things she has ever done. Kneeling beside the bed of a man that was gnarled up from years of pain and disability, praying for him. And 15 minutes later, still praying for him. And as she prayed, his arms and legs unfolded and stretched out in his bed, as if he was able to release the pain and torment of his failing body. What you can't see in this picture, is the tear coming out of his eye and rolling down his cheek. Maybe it was his response to pain, but I think it was his response to someone sitting with him and staying with him and being the hands and feet of Jesus to him.

It was something I can't explain.

But the other day, I asked Dee if, when we visited that infirmary again last month, in December of 2011, she saw that man she prayed for because I sure didn't. She had asked Penie that same question. Where was he? Penie informed Dee that he had passed away, not long after our visit in 2010. And we are left knowing that Dee was one of the last people to be with this man in such a powerful way. She was one of the last people to sit beside him in the last days of an excruciating illness. She prayed for him and brought him into the presence of His Father, His Daddy, the One who loves him eternally and took away his pain.

May we all go through this day and spend it with someone who needs a hand, a touch, a prayer, a conversation. Our words have power, and our God has plans for us that involve the people around us right here and right now. Remember, you are God's plan, and there is no plan B.

-Liz

The connection between weight loss and hope

Where have I been?

I haven't posted in a while. I haven't had a life changing AHA moment to share with the world. I also haven't been in a deep valley. I have been right in the middle.

The middle...is a scary place. When I think all is well, and there is no struggle, and things are coasting along, I tend to give up. Not because I mean to, but because I forget. I forget that for me, the weight loss thing is a battle. And if I lose the battle, I lose hope.

This week, a project I have been working on for months and months now, has moved on. Our Jamaica container truck came, and today it drove off filled to the brim with boxes and bins and mattresses and bikes that we have been collecting and praying over for almost a year now.

So now what? My project is over, so what do I do? It may sound weird, but part of me lost - hope. Part of me thought, "well, back to my old life now." But the old life is not an option for me anymore. I gave away all my clothes to Goodwill. I wear smaller pants. I eat differently. I work out. But all of that wouldn't matter if I didn't believe in myself and believe more in the NEW life.

In a sense, watching Jim and Penie Koch drive that Penske truck away made me think about all of my own baggage and what I choose to hold onto versus what I know I have to leave behind. At the end of my life, what will I care to hold onto? What will matter the most? Even more specifically, at the end of my day today, will I really care that I didn't get to eat that brownie that everyone else enjoyed last night? Will I really miss out on the double helping of lasagna that I skipped?

Nope. And that, to me, is hope. I am able to see past a temporary pain for a permanent future. And so we continue - to hope. And unlike food, hope does NOT disappoint.

-Liz

One week to see God?

It’s amazing how one week can change you. I left the US on December 26^th skeptical of religion and faith.  While I am no stranger to philanthropy and service trips, a mission trip was a completely different story.  When Dee asked me to come on the trip to Jamaica I was excited at the opportunity. She told me that it was a mission’s trip, so I should expect to pray. I was nervous but eventually decided that just because everyone else was praying didn’t mean I had to.

To say I was out of my comfort zone in the first two days of the trip would be a huge understatement.  I was an agnostic on a missions trip in a foreign country with a bunch of strangers…yeah that sounds about right.  The second night when Dee asked me how I was feeling I said I was on “Jesus overload”.  Even in the first two days I had been exposed to more prayer than I had in years.  I was skeptical of faith, and felt uncomfortable praying to a God I wasn’t sure existed with people who were so sure He did.

After hearing Jim and Penie’s passionate stories about how God had come through for them when they needed it most. After talking with other members of the team and the staff about faith and how drastically different their faith was to how I perceived faith.  After interacting with the children of Petersville and Gully Bank and seeing the joy in their faces as the pickup and van pulled up, or how proud they were when they got a math problem right. And after visiting the infirmary and hospital where patients asked me to pray for them, something was changing.  By the middle of the week I began to have a curiosity about God and Faith and by the end of the week caught myself praying with the group.

Something happened during that week that I cannot explain, so I won’t even attempt to.  I can’t claim that I am now a great Christian with an unwavering faith in God, because that would be a lie.  I can claim that, in all likelihood, I wouldn’t have any curiosity about faith if I hadn’t gone to Jamaica.  Maybe I’ve been feeling my life being pulled towards philanthropy and helping others because God’s at the other end of the rope. Who knows?

All I do know is that the week I spent in Jamaica was one of the most eye-opening and happiest weeks in my life.  The people of Jamaica stole my heart, and they impacted my life just as much as I hope in impacted theirs.  I hope I can keep my mind and my heart open to the possibility of God and faith back at home.

Until next time Jamaica, I know I’ll be back.

- Nicole (Nickels)

“What I do you cannot do; but what you do, I cannot do. The needs are great, and none of us ever do great things. But we can all do small things, with great love, and together we can do something wonderful.” – Mother Theresa

The weight loss tip that you're not ready for.

So, as of my last weigh in, I have lost 44 pounds. I am starting to feel successful. Yes, I am slow, and I know I should have felt successful many pounds ago.

I am also starting to realize that I might be able to now share my success with other people that could be going through the same crap I've been going through and ARE going through. Yes, it's a weight loss tip. No, it has nothing to do with food and exercise. I guess a cool thing that's happened to me is that my weight loss is a by-product of me following this tip. As I type that, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. People might say this isn't a big deal or a new philosophy or a revolutionary thought of any kind. 

But they'd be wrong because I maintain that most of the world can't handle this tip. Ok, now on to the tip.

If you want to lose weight, you have to believe that you are worth it.

Actually, fill in the blank. If you want _____________ , you have to believe that you are worth it.

Get real with yourself. Are you worth it? Are you worth saving? Are you worth changing? Are you worth not settling? Are you worth all of the things that you dream of, that you want, that you pray for, that you can only imagine?

It might take you 35 years to figure that out. I hope that someone lights a fire under you and it happens quicker for you than it happened for me. Somewhere along the way, you and I stopped believing that we were worth it, that we were made for more, and that we are more than conquerors. Somebody lied to us and got us to be weak, to give up, to give in, and to settle.

Don't. Don't do that anymore. There is a first step that you need to take, and you might be the only one that knows what that step is. So take it. Have courage, and take it. The great news? We are all in it together - taking small steps that add up to 44 pounds. And more.

Fill in the blank and let's do it together.

-Liz