Two Small Pills

In preparation for an upcoming procedure, I had to take two very small pills last night.
They looked innocent, tasted innocent and went down easy.
But, without giving you ANY details whatsoever, I lost four pounds between the hours of 11pm and 6am and a lot of sleep. On one hand, I have not weighed this little in probably about six or seven years, but on the other hand, when I think of the two little pills I have to take tonight, I start to sweat a little.
And tomorrow.

Think of me, think of me fondly...

Where Is My Pride And Prejudice

Last night I polished off the last few chapters of that delectable literary treat, Pride and Prejudice. Again. It is one of my stand-by re-reads. When I am enveloped in Miss Jane's pages, the world disappears, and I am walking in a country lane lined in willows and I am strolling down the streets of a long gone London with a basket and a parasol. I swear to you, I can see it even now. Astonished at the transportation she was able to give me, 200 years after her death, I re-read her biography after I turned the last page. And I felt an intense urge to be her friend upon reading her life story.
Jane was the daughter of a Minister, and the 7th of 8 children. She never married, and spent most of her life reading, writing and enjoying country living, much like the characters in her books. When you read about her life, I think you can't help but realize that there is so much of herself in her fiction, that it is not the book you love, but the author.
And considering her era - what an extraordinary woman she was. Did you know that her books were first published without even her name on them? And that she sold the rights to Pride and Prejudice for 110 pounds (that is all she ever got for writing it)? She died in poverty, at the mercy of her brothers fortunes.
What has got me so fired up about her, so inspired, is the wonder I have at her being such a humble person, and persisting through disappointment, poverty and illness and writing such wonderful books. What was the spark in her that said, "Even though I am a woman, even though I am poor, even though they reject my work, even though I will never live the love I write about - I will persist. I will succeed. I will write!"?
If this woman could find her spark, I want to find mine.
"What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?"
What would I attempt if I knew I could not fail. I have no idea. But if a poor English spinster with little experience of the world could write some of the finest fiction to ever hit my bookshelf, I'd like to find out.
Pride and Prejudice was her first novel, and to many (including herself), her finest. SO, where's your 'Pride and Prejudice'?

Galadriel-toria

Last night, 8:oo pm
Kitchen Floor, between a rock and a hard place
Woman crying

It's been a difficult week. Which is difficult in itself because my life is good - super blessed and full of good things. So I always feel like such a patsy faced snivelling whiner when I say "It's been a difficult week." It's not that the good things have changed, there are more than ever, but this frickin' Naturopath Diet is killing me. I think I know what you are thinking, because when I read that last sentence, all I can think is, "Pull yourself together, you patsy faced snivelling whiner. It's just a diet." But I swear to you, this takes more self control than I have EVER had to use in my whole life ever before. And I am not exaggerating, despite my dramatic nature.

It is so hard to want something that is out of your permission, but within your power. And although many people would say - just have a bite, it won't hurt anything; those words remind me a little too much of a snake and a curse. I am no cheater. I would be the very worst person to have around after I've indulged in a slice of cool, creamy chocolate caramel cheese cake. Because I would know that I had failed. Before God. Before my expectations. And would expect to be kicked out of the garden. A failure. A cheater. I know that sounds so RIDGID and UNCOMPROMISING, but such is the inner sanctum of my being towards this girl. Because I am doing this for all the right reasons, if I fail it will be so tacky and weak and I will not be able to respect myself.

You see, I want to get strong and healthy so we can have more babies. I tell you, when I get tired, when I feel lost, when I just want to give up all of my disciplines and spend $200 on a glorious afternoon of glutinous delights - I say to myself: I am running towards beautiful babies. I am fighting for strength, I am going to be HEALTHY! And it stokes this fire in me that I have never felt before.

Right Motive. It is the most powerful, efficient fuel for the fire of self control. If I was saving money so we could be rich, I would fail. If I was exercising to look like a supermodel, I would fail. If I was on a diet to loose weight, I would fail. But a motive based in love, in Godly living, in right prioreties? This once derelict engine is powering a TANK these days, baby. Because you know what? Even though this grown woman was brought to tears last night by visions of cake (how pathetic), I DID NOT CRUMBLE.

Like Galadriel, I passed the test (and must diminish).

Natural Path

Oh, today I don't feel so good.

It's this special Dr. prescribed diet I am on. It's making my body crazy.

Isn't that strange?

I am trying to get better, but before I can, I must get worse.

This is true in so many areas of life.

Relationships, Spirituality, Health, Finances.

I think this denotes Intelligent Design.

If it was easy to get better we wouldn't learn our lessons, would we?

Nope. We'd just do everything bad and lazy that we want and then SHAZAMMMM! All better. Over and over and over again.

So let us hope (Oh, PLEASE LORD) that I have learned my lesson.

Zen Flesh

In the past, I have always found it nearly impossible to exercise self control in pretty much every area of my life. Food? Glutton! Money? Irresponsible, untraceable spending! Mouth? Flapping at the gums! Inner world? Chaos!

Slowly (and beginning well into my adult years) as life has brought different seasons, I've found small successes. When I got married my spending HAD to change, and so it did. When I had a baby, my spending had to change AGAIN, and so it did. And when we bought a house, my spending REALLY had to change, and suddenly, I am more responsible with money than I ever thought I would be.

Food has been a similar journey, except instead of life changes, it's sickness that's motivated me. My body says, "I WARNED YOU. NOW YOU ARE GOING TO PAY!" And suddenly it's not so hard to give up white bread, or pop, or treats. I thought I was pretty disciplined until I went to a naturopath recently. Who put me on a strict diet which includes NO CAFFEINE! NO SUGAR! NO BREAD OF ANY SORT! And I have to maintain a diet well within the low end of the glycemic index. And (horror of horrors) it will get much more restrictive in a month...

But I am really surprising myself - I am totally able to do this! It is shocking to me.

In my church, we refer to this as "dying to your flesh" - it means saying no to what you want and doing what is best instead of what is most comfortable.

It is difficult, but very rewarding. Because when you are finally able to tell yourself no, you can do anything you set your mind to. This is what most people leave out. Oh, sure, they say, "You can do anything you set your mind to do." But that is a pipe dream and a set up for failure without the foundation of self control, self denial, self restraint.

So... let me encourage you. What ever your goal, however long its been unmet, however far off it may be; You CAN do it. With discipline.

Hell's Handbasket: Fact or Myth

I am sure you are familiar with the statement, "The world's going to hell in a handbasket!" and if you are anything like me, you have thoughts quite similar to it pretty much anytime you come into contact with the media and its many arms. Or drive in rush hour traffic. Or grocery shop at Superstore betwixt the hours of 2pm-8pm.

And in many ways we could argue that it's true. But a statement like that produces a strong sense of defeat and takes away my hope and desire to change my world. And when a statement produces that kind of result, one must carefully consider where it's coming from and why...

Maybe the world ISN'T going to hell in a hand basket. Maybe 'they' just want us to believe that because when you don't have anything to hope on, you do stupid things like watch TV all day and buy bad food that makes you feel good and you shop for things you don't need that might help to block out the fear and sadness. And that is good business, isn't it? But it's not necessarily truth... so what IS the truth?

Maybe more of the world than we think is heaven bound.

I was at the swimming pool with my family sunday afternoon, ready to have my usual rant about the lecherous men staring at woman parts like kids in a candy store, when in the change room on our way out, I ran into another mom. She had a lovely little girl. I chatted to her (my husband says I talk to more strangers than anyone he's ever met) about mom stuff and as we talked I noticed that she was doing old fashioned cloth diapering. I asked if it was lots of work and she said, "Not really. You use a diaper liner and have enough diapers to wash every second day." We smiled and said our goodbyes, but she stuck with me. I was of half a mind to ask her to do a coffee date.

Here's my happy thought, kids. If in the age of convenience, when mothering can be easier than ever before in all of history, a woman chooses because of conviction to do an endless menial task the hard way [which she believes is the healthier/cheaper/more wholesome way] there is hope that in small ways that we can't see all over the city-country-world people are making the difficult choice to live lives of integrity, purity and love. It just doesn't make the news.

To Write, or Not To Write

I have been intending to write here twice a week, but lately I am filled with ambivalence when I create a new post in this particular blog. I think of this as my heart blog, and there's been so much change and conflict in this last year that I feel like my heart has retreated to a distance and is watching the world from a safe place. Which makes it difficult to write about.

I am learning that delicate balance between being an open book and protecting what is sacred to my soul. See, I always thought that if you didn't 110% tell everything that you were a liar by default. But I have learned that that delicious and difficult trait, discretion, is an absolutely essential component to a satisfied (and peace filled) life.

But you have to walk a fine line to stay out of either camp... God gives us experiences that we can use to help other people in the telling of, and He gives us experiences that help ourselves in the saving of. I am learning which is which.

Which makes me a crap heart blogger for the moment. :0D

It's so much easier and more rewarding to write about angst and unrequited love - look at all the poets and songwriters of the ages, " My woman left me all alone and I am so sad I want to die, oh, won't someone love me again " Blah, blah, blah.

I don't have any angst I wish to write of, and my love is most DEFINiTELY requited. Oh, what shall I write about? Doing dishes and laundry and reading books to a one year old? Maybe. But not today...