Love Letters in the Sand

 Haven would be starting his senior year on Monday. 

As anyone who has walked the dark road of loss knows, grief hits at random times. In the early days, it’s a constant companion. You’re never NOT thinking about it. 

As time passes, you’re able to have more “good” days than bad. More thoughts of gratefulness for who you had than the fact that you don’t have them physically here. 

It’s easier for those moments of gut-punching mourning that seem to come out of nowhere to take you by surprise. 

Something struck me this morning that I hadn’t thought of before. I have a picture of Haven’s name in the sand as my screensaver at work. For the first time ever, since we started this beautiful collection in 2009, I wondered how long those precious letters stayed. 

How long before the snowfall covered up his name in Antarctica or animal tracks left their mark over it in Africa? 

How many people in Myrtle Beach walked by and thought to themselves, “I wonder who ‘Haven’ is?” 

Dear ones have carried our son around the globe, and it never hit me that his name was written there for a short time and then it was gone. 

Just like he was here for a precious short time…and then he was gone. 

But we have pictures to give those gifts of love in the sand and snow and rocks permanence. And we have the memory of carrying him for 8 months and holding him in our arms for one brief day to sustain us until we’re together again. 

Yes, His life here was fleeting, like letters washed away by the waves, but it continues to have meaning.  

He would be starting his senior year of high school this year. How my heart wonders what he would be like. As I shopped with his brothers, I couldn’t help but think about what he would like. What would his favorite color be? Would he look more like Owen or more like Mia and Wilson?

My friend Kelly Gerken from Sufficient Grace often talks about the “sacred dance of grief and joy,” and I love that picture. There’s grief in the beginning of the school year that would be his last. In the wondering. 

But there’s joy that he was here. He lived. He has purpose. And best of all, we will see him again, and this time it will be forever. 

Even the Changes Change

🚨 Sappy Post Alert 🚨 

Amelia moves back to Columbus tomorrow for her senior year at Ohio State. 

While my feelings aren’t as overwhelming as they were the first time we took her, I am still so sad. And then I feel guilty for feeling sad because she is alive and healthy and working hard to chase after her dreams - and that’s all so wonderful. 

I’m excited for the fun she will have and proud of how independent and resolute she is. It’s all good stuff and I am so thankful for that and I don’t take that blessing for granted. 

But. 

I will miss the everyday-ness of her just being here. Her shoes by the door and her purse thrown wherever. The “stuff” that means she’s around. 

I won’t feel embarrassed or ashamed for how sad I feel each time she leaves after a summer or Christmas break. Yes, I know this is what’s supposed to happen and what we raised her to do. But those years of pouring into her give me the right to shed as many tears as I want. 

And it isn’t just her. It seems like, once your kids become teenagers, time moves twice as quickly as it did before. 

Owen is starting college at Ashland University in a couple weeks. He’ll be living at home, which will be nice, but I worry for him because change is hard for him. Not only will he be starting his own grand college adventure, but his friends are also preparing to go back to their schools, most of them a distance away. 

Wilson is also going through a transition, having recently decided that soccer wasn’t fun anymore and The Beautiful Game wasn’t so beautiful anymore. For a kid who has played since kindergarten and a family that has had soccer players for the past 14 years, it has been a sad season. 

We’re so proud of him for taking his time and really praying and thinking through the decision and confidently choosing what he felt was best for him. 

And finally, though it’s not a change we’re going through, as the school year approaches, it’s never far from my mind that our Haven would be a senior this year. Some milestones sting more than others and this one seems to be a painful one. 

I am more grateful than ever for a God who never changes. He is the one thing I can count on to stay the same, always. 

Making Peace With the “F” Word (Or Not)

 Fat. 

That’s the “F” word in question. 

There are other, possibly kinder, words that people say, like “bigger,” “heavy,” “plus-size.”

But let’s be honest - they all mean the same thing. 

So, as a person who falls under that particular descriptive umbrella, there’s a bit of a tightrope I walk. 

There’s a lot of talk about loving yourself, accepting yourself, being gentle with yourself. Self care, and on and on. And it’s not shocking that I struggle in that area. 

Because there’s also the fact that I know this is not healthy, it’s not fat-but-fit, it’s not…okay. 

How do you “love” yourself while also knowing you need to change? How do I give myself a break or be gentle with myself when tough love is probably what I need most? Being too easy on myself is what got me to this place. 

This is the part of the post where you would expect me to bust out with some wisdom or an answer. 

Spoiler Alert: I don’t have any. 

I’m just here, in this space, trying to come to terms with being f-a-t and accepting it while seeking motivation to make real change. (I’d settle for the “c” word: chubby. 🤷‍♀️😂)

The only thing I know for certain is that the Lord promises that His mercies are new every morning. 

I’m a work in progress, no matter how snail-like the progress may be. 

Bob the Tomato and Other Tales

 I just returned from an amazingly relaxing and refreshing getaway with my husband. We went to Hocking Hills. I had never been there before and the scenery was breathtaking. 

Speaking of breathtaking…

What do you think of when you think of Hocking Hills? The hiking, right?

To see some of the most stunning sights, you have to put in the work. 

I can’t. 

Not that I don’t want to. I physically cannot make it to the “best,” most rewarding spots because I would embarrass my family by having a heart attack or at least throwing up and/or fainting. 

Wake up calls like these come regularly when you’re overweight. And they’re not fun. 

Let me be clear: I am not feeling sorry for myself, nor am I looking for anyone else to feel sorry for me. I made my big, fat bed and now I have to lie in it. 

What I am saying is that, if you’re also embarrassed by the ways your weight holds you back, you’re not alone. 

To be fair, I have never been athletic, even when I was a “normal” size. (But I could kill it on my roller blades. 🤷‍♀️)

But I want to be able to do things with my family. I don’t love hiking. But I want to be able to go all the places my husband wants to go. 

I want to NOT get passed up by an old lady in a boot on a trail that’s making me wheeze. (Literally happened.)

I did go on the easiest little hike there is while we were away and it was beautiful. And when we got back to the car, I saw my face and it was Bob the Tomato staring back at me. 🍅

So here’s my prayer for myself (and for you, if you find yourself unable to do what you want to do): I pray for the motivation to make the changes I need to make. To show myself grace, but not use that as an excuse. To finally just do it, knowing that the Lord will be with me (and you) every hesitant and halting step of the way. 

Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy and Neither Is Parenting

( In case you didn’t gather it from the title, this blog isn’t about food or weight or anything like that!)

Every stage of parenting has those times when you feel helpless, confused, frustrated, sad, etc. All the feels. 

It begins as early as the moment you decide to have kids. With infertility, those sad and helpless feelings come sooner in the parenting journey rather than later. 

Then the anxiety of pregnancy. The “normal” worry of parents who haven’t tasted the bitterness of loss, and a worry that comes from knowing things don’t always turn out the way you plan.  For us, 3 out of 5 pregnancies ended with a healthy baby that came home with us. 

Of course, those toddler, kid, tween, teen years have their own helpless, confusing, frustrating times galore, too. 

And then you arrive at the stage we are in. We have a 21 year old, a 19 year old, and a 16 year old. I can honestly say that it is in this space we have inhabited since our oldest became a teenager that has brought me to helpless tears the most.

Watching them wrestle with heavy decisions that you can’t make for them feels excruciating sometimes. But all you can do is pray and help them lay out the options, encourage them to think through the ramifications of each choice, and then let them decide which way they want to go.

But the hard truth that they can only learn for themselves is that sometimes life isn’t fair and neither path seems great. 

When you want to throw some punches for them in the name of justice and fairness, you have to hold back so their decisions aren’t influenced by your anger or hurt at the situation. (And also because you don’t want to go to jail. 😂)

So, that’s where we are tonight. Proud of a kid for making a well-thought-out choice that was really, really difficult for him to make and brought sadness for all of us, as well. 

But here’s to new lessons learned, brighter days ahead, and raising kids who think for themselves. 

Only by the Lord’s Grace.

Making My Way Back to the 4-Colored Pen

 I love words. I have always loved words. 

The power they wield. The way they roll off your tongue or flow from the tip of a really great pen. 

So, it’s not shocking that one of my greatest delights as a child was (and still is, to be honest) getting a new journal. Preferably one with the little lock and key. With Strawberry Shortcake or Holly Hobbie on the front? Even better.

Of course, as I made that super easy (😏) transition to middle school, I needed that place for my thoughts more than ever. 

But I was far too mature to call it a “diary.” My ramblings and preteen angst were now housed in a much more grown up journal. The 4-color pen with pink, purple, green, and teal inks was apparently sufficiently grown up enough to keep using. 🤷‍♀️

So, what I’m pondering today is that, if I had kept up with journaling so frequently, maybe I wouldn’t run to sugar as much. Maybe that outlet was what kept me at a “socially acceptable” weight through high school and college.

I had a healthy coping mechanism and the busyness of life - a job, marriage, children - left less free time to sit down with my journal the way I had for so many years.

(Disclaimer: I am NOT blaming my current situation on anything or anyone other than me!)

Maybe it’s time to get back into the habit of regular journaling again. Does anyone know where I can find a four-colored pen?? 😉

Sugar Is a Jerk

 Sugar kind of reminds me of those friends who seem so great at first. They’re fun to hang out with and you seem to enjoy the time you spend together. 

Then, later, you start thinking about it and you realize that every time you hang out you end up feeling really bad about yourself. 

I’ve had those kinds of “friends” who seem sweet on the outside but then you end up with a stomachache. 

The biggest thing sugar and bad friends have in common is that I should know enough to stay away from them both for my own mental and/or physical health. 

I have made progress. At least in the friend department. 

With sugar? Not so much. It still draws me in with promises of good times and I fall for it every time. 

And here’s the thing: I don’t want to be someone who blames where they are in life on an addiction they have no control over. (And I am not putting addicts down!)

What I AM saying is that I get the feeling that your world just can’t be right unless you have that thing. Ice cream, cookies, pie…whatever it is that I am craving at the time seems essential in the moment. And later? I'm mad at myself. Disappointed with my lack of self-control, and telling myself that I will never be able to overcome this. 

Am I alone in this? It feels that way much of the time. 

I did a 40 day sugar fast a while back. I made it through the 40 days without any of my usual sweet crutches. I slept better. I felt better. I started to like ME more. 

Then the 40 days ended and I was determined that I was going to stick with it and just indulge “here and there” or for “special occasions.” 

You can probably see where this is going. Here and there turned into all the places, all the time. And I just happened to be able to deem something a special occasion every day! (Yay me for being so positive, right?? 😏)

I did attempt the 40 day sugar fast a couple more times. Suffice it to say they were spectacular failures that were maybe more likely to be classified as 40 minute sugar fasts. 

So here I am. Tired of myself. Tired of failing. Tired of being tired. 

The only thing I can cling to is that I have a God who never feels this way about me. His mercies are new every morning and that’s the hope I have. 

Housekeeping (Not the Un-Fun Kind)

 I logged into Blogspot and remembered that I started a blog back in 2014. Since I only made exactly ONE post, I'm going to keep it. And the name.

So, first a few "housekeeping" things. (This is likely the only housekeeping I'll be doing today.)

The Name

Ramblings of the Rescued. Cringe-y? Maybe. Yet, it's true. I'm gonna ramble, that's for sure. And the reminder that I have already been rescued is one I need every day.

Rescued from sin, rescued from Hell, rescued...from ME.

I like it. It's staying.

What I'll Cover

First and foremost, this is for me to get my thoughts out. And my struggles. And, yes, as you've been previously warned, my ramblings.

The main thing that I plan to share is my weight issues. In the words of Tommy Callahan, "I have what doctors call a little bit of a weight problem."

(Now's a good time to interject that there will be a lot of movie and television quotes.) 

I'm not trying to be anyone's before and after. This has been an issue for most of my life, with a brief respite in high school and college. I just want a place to process. And if me baring my soul is an encouragement to someone or lets them know they're not alone, that's a pretty sweet bonus.

As anyone who knows me (or is friends with me on Facebook or follows me on IG knows), I talk a lot about our son, Haven, and the grief journey that goes along with giving your child back to the Lord long before you're ready. And, that goes for losing my dad, as well. So, those topics may come up, too. Being an emotional eater, it just makes sense.

Who knows. I may throw a book recommendation or review in here, too. Yeah, buckle up, it might get wild.

See Ya Soon

I thought it would be a good idea to give anyone who reads this a head's up on what to expect. (So, I guess this is for you, Mom and Mark. 😂)

I'll be back soon.