2013

Here's the deal.

It's Friday and my shampoo worked really well last night and Old Navy had great sweaters on clearance, and I bought a coral one.  Not a neutral one.  A coral one. 

And I got a good morning text.

It's December 27th and the water is spinning over the drain and it's all almost over and we all quietly wonder what we're going to do now?

With all that fear we confessed.  With all that blank page.

Early spring, maybe summer of 2013, we talked about small goals.  Maybe we talked about operationalizing objectives.  About creating measurable goals.  Did we?  If not, we should have.  Because that's what I did.  Instead of a large-scale, life-long, grandiose bucket list, a few of us created our own yearly bucket list.

My list had three goals.

1) buy a house

2)  enroll in grad school

3) and a general fitness goal with a weight objective

It's December 27th. 

I am currently enrolled in an online Masters in Public Administration degree with Murray State University.  And I'm horrible at it.  I hate it.  I'm getting ready to just have to eat the damn frog, however, because I can't afford to pay back student loans yet.  I don't want to keep going, but I will.  But I am.  I am a graduate student.

Judah and I bought our first house this fall.  A small, simple townhome in a rough, little neighborhood.  Not much.  And some days I resent it wildly.  But it's home.  With a washer and dryer and Herbie and a welcome mat.

I have been diligently working towards a vague, conceptual fitness goal since May 2013.  Haha... roughly since January 2009. 

In 2009 I dropped dozens of inches.  All over my body.  Counting calories, lots of cardio.  That was the year I got sick.  The year I dropped out of school.  Exercise was one of the only things, which made me feel better, but the confidence was not there to do the work I needed to do.  So I lost dozens of inches, gained only a little muscle, got sick, gained all those inches right back.  I'd hit the gym pretty consistently through the rest of my undergrad, having easy access to the campus gym.  Light weights, elliptical machine, spinning classes.  I was more confident than ever before, but so much of it was because I wasn't thinking about it.  Because I had chosen to focus less on it -- it, the things I didn't like.  I didn't look in the mirror anymore and think about a fat roll or blemished skin or crooked teeth or twisted back.  I embraced my body shape... only because acceptance was so much easier than the alternative. 

Then I got pregnant.  And had a gigantic baby boy who gave me stretch marks and increased the size of my ass and who separated my abdomen so far, I could lay three fingers between the muscles.

Anyway. 

It's December 2013, so seven months after setting a goal, I still haven't reached it.  The scale is a bitch.  However.  However...

My abdomen is healed.  And I tightened my belt another notch.  I increased my personal record for my deadlift and my back squat last week.  And the coral sweater is a size smaller than what I would have bought last year. 

This what it's about.  How I can walk into a place and have a goal, an agenda, and accomplish it without feeling inferior.  I've changed my lifestyle in such a way I am bettering myself, without even realizing it.  My skin is clearing up, after a very intentional regimen change.  My hair is longer and my cooking skills have increased.  I budget better and think outside of the box.  And I am enjoying it. 

Now.  I really do embrace my body shape.  And it's really the same as before.  Just stronger.

So last year's third goal, the fitness goal, will carry through to 2014.  It's marathon, not a sprint, I suppose.  I hope to work increasingly on my food choices, the amount of sleep I get, and also how much food we waste. 

A second goal for 2014 is to find a new job.  I love my job.  I am thankful for my job.  I work for a therapeutic foster care agency, recruiting and training foster homes.  It is flexible.  I get to self lead and make my own schedule and some of the people around here are great.  But Judah and I need insurance.  We need an income, which allows us not to have to rely on anyone else.  I dread the sacrifices, which will come with leaving this place.  I may have to sacrifice the gym time.  Or hours with Judah.  I may have to buy a new wardrobe, lose the nose ring, cover the tattoos.  With a bachelors in Social Work, options are limited.  My eyes are peeled.  But I'm praying when the time comes to take that step, I'll have peace. 

A third goal for 2014 is a hard one.  I will leave it simply as this:

Risk. 

That's up for interpretation.  But can't ambiguity be sweet?


I just pulled up last January's post.  Hot tears just flooded my eyes and the knot in my throat is too big to swallow.  I will continue to try and do better...  I don't really know what else to do.

And fear, suddenly, turns into thankfulness.  Thankfulness for a fresh start.  For a brand new year, fully unknown. 

A few old words cut, sting, as I reread:

I hope I learn to be more gracious, more patient, more understanding.  I hope I am a better friend. 

I hope to stand up for myself and my son and be brave enough to walk away from the things that hurt us.

I hope I remember how to risk and how to listen.

I hope I get answers.  I hope I get closure.  I hope we find freedom in being and love the way we were created to. 

I hope I keep learning.

And that at the end of this year, I hope I have a new story to tell.

And I cry. 

January 1st will also be an anniversary of a decision I regret so deeply it haunts me daily.  I don't know if it can be called grace, if you regret it.  But one decision led me down a rabbit hole of graciousness, from which we may never return.  Learning to forgive and protect and fight in ways I never dreamed possible.  I am not gracious.  But I now know how to show grace.  I hope, although I still regret it, this decision is what teaches Judah to be a gracious man.

And we didn't walk away.  Not soon enough.  Not fast enough.  There are so many times when I should have picked up that baby and ran in the opposite direction.  But crouched in fear, sometimes because I had only a little hope left.  But there are times when I did.  When the unfathomable love I have for that boy helped me cut whatever tied and dare any danger to follow.  Both shield and sword.  I am better at protecting Judah than I am myself.

But I got my answers. 

Painful, terrifying as they were.  I got my answers. 

And even if it's the dwindling last days of the year, I'm trying to do better. 

It was just this week... a familiar prayer settled in my spirit. 

Open my eyes to the risks you want me to take.  Give me insight, discernment, and enough perception to know and to hear.  And the wisdom to make the right choices for us.

It's a new story alright.  If not a good one, a strong one.  I wish I could say I did better.  I did not.  Not with what matters.  But now I know how. 

so I repeat, as we welcome the new year:

I hope I learn to be more gracious, more patient, more understanding.  I hope I am a better friend. 
I hope to stand up for myself and my son and be brave enough to walk away from the things that hurt us.  I hope I remember how to risk and how to listen.  I hope I get answers.  I hope I get closure.  I hope we find freedom in being and love the way we were created to.  I hope I keep learning.  And that at the end of this year, I hope I have a new story to tell.