Unicorns and Rainbows

I have 10,000 things I need to share about, write about, confess, review, etc. as 2013 is ending. Thoughts about weight, heartbreak, loss, victory, starting over, friendship, disappointment, trust, and the like.

2013 was the year of extremes for me. The highest of highs, and the lowest of lows. I am glad to see it end. Sorry to all you optimists out there, but I'm just being real. I realize that "Happiness is a choice!" but sometimes it's impossible to see that choice as an option. I battled loneliness harder in this past year than I ever have before.

So more to come on those topics. Can't wait to get back to this little community here. My honesty seems to stirring something up in people, and I love it. But first thing's first.

My grandmother, Betty Goddard, passed away in August of this year. She was in her 90s, was in hospice, and it wasn't a surprise. She was my last living grandparent, stood no more than 5 feet tall, and was the sassiest relative of them all. She wasn't a very touchy feely, lovey dovey lady, but I knew that she loved me. I just didn't know how sentimental that love actually was.

Over Christmas, my mom gave my brother and I presents that were simply labeled "Memories..." They were bundles of letters that my grandmother had kept from when we were kids and writing actual letters to people was what we did to communicate. (imagine a world without Twitter, Facebook, email, text...yes, that utopia once existed and we took it for granted)

I have never laughed and cried so much at the same time in my life. She kept these...for over twenty years? These silly letters meant so much to her? So I posted some teaser photos of these letters, and there was a request for more. So I picked two of the letters and will type out what I wrote. Out of all the vulnerable and raw things I have posted on this blog, this might be the winner...

Here we go. God help us.

January 4th, 1985 (I was 8) (this is the unicorn letter)

Dear Grandma and Papa,

I'm really having a great time with that neat walkman you gave me. It's really fun going over to my friend's house and listening to our walkmans. It's also handy to listen to it whenever I feel like it. And now I don't have to borrow my mom's or my brother's walkman's!

I'm writing on the lovely unicorn paper that you two gave me. The lovely unicorn and the rainbow on the front of the pad and on the paper.

I'm writing with the "Scripto" pen you gave me to write with. It's really handy to write with because it's erasable. (which you should know!)

I am going to love writing you letters with my beautiful paper, pen, and envelopes. I'll be writing to other faraway friends and family. If you know what I mean! (side note...WHAT DID I MEAN?!)

I sure hope you had a outstanding Christmas and a happy New Year. If you forgot, the new year is 1985. I sure had a great Christmas. I got everything I wanted. Here's the list:

• Barbie Silver 'Vette
• Robot Watch
• Cat Sweatshirt
• Walkman
• Unicorn Pad and Envelope
• Barbie Back Yard Pool Set
• Barbie Gym Set
• Barbie A.T.C.
• Sequent Socks
• Jacket
• Two pairs gloves
• Stool
• Glass people

There are other things, but I can't remember them all. Well, I've got to be going now. Say hi to everyone for me ok? Thanks. Bye Now.

Sincerely Yours,

Elizabeth Simpers

xxxxxxxxoooooooo

xxxxxxxxoooooooo

P.S. Give everyone my loads of love.

Ok, there are a few more, but I will spare you. Wait, maybe just one more. Because it demonstrates how weird I have ALWAYS been.

July 25, 1988 (I was 12)

Dear Grandma and Papa,

I just felt like sayin' "HI!" So, Hi! Well, I have a new kitty, but she ran away. BUT, we found her again!! Her name's Abby. Right now, my Dad's eatin'. Oh, sorry. EA-TING! My dad wants me to say how wonderful I think he is, but I won't.

Grandma, tell Papa about the surprise party. My mom is losing her mind. Yesterday, she thought aliens landed in her bedroom. Also yesterday, she said that she was contacted by Elvis. I was only kidding about Elvis. But she really said that aliens landed in her bedroom. Tommy fell through a barn floor two days ago. He tore some ligaments in his leg. Doctors say they'll have to amputate it. (only kidding about amputation.) My dad wants to cut my foot off because there's a bracelet on it. Most of these comments are false.

My dad was a dog this morning. He was stuck in a closet with Vanna White. That's a joke, also. Have u got enough of these jokes yet? Well, tough cookies!! My brother got his head shaved off by Perry. We call him skinhead, now. We got him a Harely Davidson motorcycle to match his head. He also got a "peace" sign tattooed on his forehead. 

Well, I think you've had enough of these hilarious jokes. So, I better be going now before my mom, dad, and Tommy kill me. Love your granddaughter,

Liz

XXOO

P.S. WRITE ME, PLEASE.

Enjoy these other letters and most embarrassing moments. I know you will appreciate my genius even more after you read them. Extra points if you can find the one that 8 year old Liz explains to my grandma what "leverage" is.

-Liz

When did "work" become a dirty word?

Don't worry, I was just walking. The blur is deceiving.

A friend just sent me an email asking what the heck was going on with me because I haven't posted a blog since my surgery last week. Was I better? Did it work? Am I healed?

Yes. Yes. HELL yes. So far.

Surgery was Tuesday of last week, and yesterday, I was back at work and walked two miles on the treadmill. Progress. Considering two weeks ago, I couldn't stand up without pain, without leaning on something, without taking prescription pain medicine.

I feel great. My recovery was short, but not that sweet. I just get so bored when I can't work, can't have a routine, and the biggest question of the day is if I'm going to watch Scandal or read a book. It was really depressing for a few days there, not being able to do much. And God, in his glory, knows what I can handle. I am not someone that could handle 6 weeks of couch time. Not at all. I could barely handle a week!

Coming back to work was amazing. Coming back to a life of purpose was fantastic. It reminded me that work is GOOD. It is a good thing and it is a necessary thing. We are created to fulfill purpose in so many ways, and work is one of them. There is a rhythm to life and I was really out of whack for a LONG time before surgery. Not able to do anything or go anywhere really because I had no relief from pain.

The things I have learned from this process are yet to be determined because there are just so many. To read back through my journal where I ask God to heal my body day after day, week after week, and in His timing, he did just that. I can't believe I am pain free. This is the first time in years that I can say that.

So I am back to work, and after my next doctor's appointment, I hope to be cleared to work out. When did "work" become a dirty word? I hope I never again take for granted that I have a healthy mind and a healthy body. Both of these things are created for the purpose of good work.

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." - Colossians 3:23-24

I can be scrubbing toilets or sitting in a cubical or driving a bus or running an Ace Hardware (shout out to Mr. Ace himself Tyler Bottke) - wherever I am, whatever I do, I have the choice to work for the Lord. And I am so thankful to have a chance to start over, every day.

Back to work.

-Liz

Baby's first steps

Up at 5am. Hobbled into the shower on my dead leg for what I hoped would be the last time. Made a green smoothie for later. My friends Hannah and Austin came early to pick me up. Drove to Capital City Surgical Center and waited.

While we were outside waiting for the place to open up, we got to see a helicopter land at Wake Med. A fun distraction that took me outside of my anxious brain. A hug from God.

To get ready for surgery, Hannah came back for me while I got prepped. The nurse's name was Martha. It was 6:30 am and Hannah and I made that lady LAUGH. She talked about her gynecologist named Cinnamon. Yes, it was that kind of conversation. A fun distraction that took me outside of my anxious brain. A hug from God.

Surgery happened. I guess. I wouldn't know, they could have taken me up in that helicopter for a ride and I wouldn't have remembered. I woke up and in about an hour, was lucid enough to realize that I am lying on my back without pain.

How is this possible?

Pain really is relative. Everyone had a different tolerance and it is impossible to feel what someone else feels. I experienced that loneliness for the past 4-6 months, and to lay in that hospital bed without pain in my back and leg was bizarre. All of a sudden, those 6 months of loneliness had the potential to
be over.

A hug from God.

So now I am home. And we have already walked across the street in the neighboring church parking lot. You might have missed an important verb in that last sentence. I walked. And I can stand. And I have hope.

I have also really, REALLY learned that I am a terrible patient. I HATE asking for help. It was so hard for me accept the fact that I have friends that want to help me. I am surrounded by people that love me so much, and I had no idea how much. I've gotten texts, calls, books, gifts, food, prayer, and company.

Hugs from God.

I am so thankful. And in the meantime, enjoy these ridiculous
photos and videos of my big day.

The Facebook Hug

Surgery on Tuesday. And struggling today. Some days are good, some days are bad. Today is one bad day. Physically I feel awful. Emotionally I am a hot mess. I think I have cried like... 4 times today? Maybe more.

What I've realized about pain is that you can't compare it or relate to it in someone else. We all have different tolerances, different experiences, and different emotions. I feel about as different as I can be from most people. If I were any more different, I might start being more similar (you know that old "east to west" analogy).

In the past few days, I have had people sharing similar back surgery stories with me. And they range all the way from "it was the miracle I was looking for" to "it took me a year and a half to walk again and I wish I had never done it."

Can you see why I am so emotional?

But God gave me the hug I needed in the form of a facebook message from an old high school friend. Reminder: I could not feel MORE useless than I do today:

hey Liz, ben thinking about you while you are getting ready for surgery on Tuesday. Praying all goes well for you and that you get some relief from your pain. I wanted to let you know that after you posted that blog/message/whatever you want to call it at the beginning of September, I was finally ready to admit that I needed help with my weight loss. I joined weight watchers within an hour of reading your post. I have already lost 4o pounds, and my life and lifestyle and so much improved. What's better, is that my motivation got my husband to join too. He is down 50 pounds, and soon will be out of the 300's. I am so proud of the steps he has taken, and I feel so liberated myself. I suffer from chronic migraines, the meds I take make me feel sluggish and still do oot give me 100% relief. But, for the first time I feel like I am not a victim of my problems, I am in charge, and roll with the punches and get back up. I just wanted you to know the magnitude of your words. You have truly helped me and my husband find the tools we needed to do this. Thank you so much! Wishing you all the best with your surgery.

Wow. Do we realize that we are light even in our darkest of days?

If you are a praying person, would you pray for me on Tuesday? The thought of this surgery not working is too much for me to bear right now. Ok, now I'm crying for the 5th time today. I just need a win here. I wish I had never taken my work outs for granted.

Stay tuned, and I will update with GOOD news soon.

And it will be good. Scratch that. Great.

-Liz

Thankful. (but not for Thanksgiving)

Today is one of my least favorite days of the year.

Wait, let me explain.

I am a thankful person. A VERY thankful person. But I don't like thanksgiving all that much. We get together, we eat a lot, we complain a lot, we shop a lot, we spend a lot.

It's...a lot.

This year I have much to be thankful for. God is about to move me out of the waiting room and into surgery. Next Tuesday actually. This has been about a year in the making, and a really painful last three months of little sleep, restlessness, and pain.

But with all that pain has come a lot of reflection. A lot of questions for God, and a hell of a lot of surrender. It is hard for me to surrender my love for food. I just have such a deep relationship with food, that I struggle to let it go. Once again, a reason I wrestle with Thanksgiving.

I have found joy in the simple things I've always loved. Music is one of them. I have been working to convert my guest room into a music room. Today I picked up a drum set, which was my last big piece of the puzzle. My friend had a word for a room like this: her "happy room." So I filled this room with things that make me happy: a comfortable reading chair, books, drums, guitars, art. Beautiful things that bring me peace.

I spend a lot of my time trying to be someone I'm not. Trying to impress others. Trying to find eloquent words to express myself when simple words would sound better. I am so hopeful for life after back surgery. I will walk, I will swim, I will bike, and one day...

I will run again.

-Liz

The waiting room.

Today I had my MRI review with my back doctor. My prayer this morning: "God, please give me hope and progress and an answer. Please."

Today I welcomed hope and progress and an answer.

Two herniated disks means surgery. Most likely next week. This has been a year long ordeal for me. Managing the pain. Waiting. Getting injured. Pushing it. Running. Hurting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

What have I learned from the waiting room? Sometimes the things I learn in the waiting room are more important than the things I'm waiting for.

God is faithful. In pain. God is faithful. In joy. I have run the gamut. I have cried, laughed, hurt, and experienced all of it. And finally, relief is coming. I am completely blown away. I am loved by so many and have been so encouraged by so many of you. You have been my lifeline in the midst of this rainy season.

I have also learned that a lot of us are in a lot of pain. And most of us keep it private. I'm not sure why. Fear? Probably. But really, being honest on this blog thing has broken down a lot of barriers for people and I hope that keeps happening in big, scary, amazing ways.

So if you're in the waiting room right now, I'm sitting with you. And God has put us here together. Don't forget.

-Liz

How long?

I waited patiently for the Lord;
he inclined to me and heard my cry.
² He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.
³ He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear,
and put their trust in the Lord.      
-Psalm 40

There is a U2 song called "40" that borrows heavily from this Psalm. The chorus sings "How long to sing this song? How long?"

So here it is, 2:30 am on a Tuesday, and I have this song, this psalm, in my head.

Have you ever gone through something that, at first, a lot of people rallied around you and wanted to help but they just couldn't? Inherently, once people don't know how to help, they stop trying to help. This is no fault of their own, it's just human nature. See, if we don't know how to help, we think we are just - helpless, so we move on to the next manageable way that we CAN be of service to someone.

I am in that zone. My back injury has been happening since summer, and it's been severe for about two months now. Severe means can't exercise. Can't walk. Can't sleep. Can't stand. I have become completely reliant on God. I have no other choice. And sometimes, I feel like I have no other help.

Tomorrow I have an MRI, and I have hope again. Nothing else has worked. I have spent a lot of time, energy, money, and emotion looking for relief for my back and my leg. I dream of running again. Heck, right now, I dream of standing in the lobby of our YMCA and having a conversation with someone without needing to sit down or lean on something.

How long?

I have learned a lot about perspective in the past six months. I have also learned that there is a lot of private pain that goes on in the people around me every single day. And if my situation might speak to someone else's situation, I am grateful. The good news here, is that this season won't last forever. Even though it feels like a lifetime since I have been pain free.

I remember my dad once telling me, in a tear-filled conversation: "Lizzie, this is just your rainy season. And it won't rain forever."

Is this your rainy season? While we might be asking God "how long?" He might be trying to tell us - "Not forever."

-Liz

Sometimes people need YOU, not your answers.

You know, we as human beings really can't help but overanalyze our lives when bad things happen. Or  when bad things happen to our friends. As friends, we believe it's our role to explain WHY said bad thing happened, and then help our friends move on.

But what about when you don't have the answers?

I have a friend who is walking through some medical struggles (to the say the least) that make my back pain seem insignificant (but I am not comparing pain). Because we are both typically very active people, it has helped me IMMENSELY to talk this through with her. The coolest thing she has shown me though, is that other people try to fix our problems, not just listen to them.

I have noticed that with my pain over the last few months. I have an AMAZING community of friends. And a lot of sweet women that want to solve my problem for me. What I really need is a hug sometimes, not a proposed solution. And what my friend shared with me is that it can feel condescending when someone minimizes your pain by explaining it away.

I wrote about this some in my last blog, but it has been cool to see how God has provided someone else for me to vent to and talk to about this because she is going through similar pain. And, through her, God has shown me that my friend doesn't need my answers. She just needs me. Again, it's that beauty in brokenness thing that God keeps showing me.

Tomorrow is round 3 of my steroid injections. I have HUGE hope that this will work. I need it to. I mean, I am up at 7am when I don't need to be because I now have an internal alarm clock in the form of nerve pain all down my left leg that simply won't let me sleep late (or much at all).

In the meantime, I thought I would bring a little joy into your day in the form of a guy who should own his own karaoke bar. I aspire to bring joy to people like this guy did. Enjoy.

"God just wanted to slow you down!"

If I hear that one more time, I might kick someone with my good leg.

My faith has been shaken.

There. I said it.

It is still shaky. And I will tell you why.

Two steroid epidurals, icing, resting, and months of prayer from friends and family later...I am still the same. I can barely walk. My left leg constantly feels like it is on fire from pain shooting down my leg, and all week every week I grin and bear it. Every time I have to walk somewhere to pick something up from another office, or to go talk to someone, or to go to the bathroom, I have to give myself a pep talk. "You can do this. You can do this."

I can't do this.

Friends have been praying for healing. I wake up and I pray for healing. I have begged God. I have pleaded. I have written to him every morning. I have been faithful and obedient. I know he loves me. I know this is not the life he wants for me, especially when being active has been a lifeline for me and the catalyst for my weight loss.

But nothing has changed.

A week or so ago, days after my second epidural, I was doing better, so I biked. Nothing major. Nothing crazy. But only a few days after that, the pain returned to where I can't walk ten steps anymore without debilitating pain.

I can't stand up at church. I can't lay down comfortable at night. I can't go shopping with friends. It absolutely and completely sucks.

I've had to get creative with my down time. Time that
was once reserved for work outs is now reserved for
jigsaw puzzles and online sermon series.

I'm past the point of "God is teaching me patience." I am past the point of "God will heal you!" I am past the point of "God just wanted to slow me down to show me stuff!"

I think we all try to reason away pain because we simply don't understand it. Same thing with death. Ever notice how people have strange reactions to death? Some are inconsolable, some act like they knew the person way better than anyone else, some want to explain it, some want to move past it right away, some NEVER move past it the rest of their lives. We don't understand death because we were never created to experience death. 

The plan was for Adam and Eve to live forever. But sin screwed that up for everyone.

Now I don't think my back pain is some biblical warning against sin. But I do think it's just a crap situation for me and I wish more people would just sit in it with me rather than try to explain it, solve it, or reason it away by saying "God is teaching you something glorious!" It's also showing me how much I have reasoned away other people's pain instead of been beside them like they needed.

The awesome revelation here? People need YOU. Sometimes, they aren't looking for your answers. They are looking for YOU.

Once again, God is bringing beauty out of brokenness. But he didn't cause this brokenness. But I will be honest and say, I need some healing. Fast.

God hasn't healed me yet. Or allowed any significant help medically. And I'm pissed about that. But even in my shaky faith, I will pray. Because I know God can do all things. I just wish he would choose to heal my back. Monday, I have another appointment with my back specialist guy to see what's next, either another injection or options for surgery.

And so we keep praying.

-Liz

Do people really know how you feel about them?

We live in a critical, cynical world. But I have a little dare for you. Watch this. And then tell someone how you REALLY feel about them. Because I bet you, they have NO idea how great you think they are.



A New Perspective For Moms from Elevation Church on Vimeo.

Seriously...go tell someone how much they mean to you.

-Liz

Nothing but grateful.

I was fortunate enough to go to our area's Young Life banquet last night. I saw SO MANY old friends. People I used to lead with, people I went to college with, women that have shaped my faith and walked with me through pain over the years, and kids that I know now who are experiencing Young Life for the first time like I did when I was in high school.

I was reminded how God uses other people to change our lives. And I was reminded to be grateful for that.

My whole life, God has been trying to talk to me through other people. In high school, a woman named Carol took an interest in me, asked me to come to Young Life, and that decision she made to show up at Unionville High School changed my life. And because of her faith, I have grown and God has used me to change the lives of others.

My recent back injury has been another great example of this. I had no idea of the support system I had until I was down and out. Just this morning I was able to wake up and go work out without my two hour time window to stretch and ice my back. I was so grateful to be able to walk, to feel my leg and back getting stronger, to be able to lift, to cycle, all of it.

But I am just as grateful for the people that care about me. So many people were asking about me, last night and this morning. I can't get over that. And it was a swift reminder of the things I complain about and am not grateful for.

See, tough people like me do NOT want to have to rely on others. But for the past few months, I have had to call on friends like never before. That's what happens when your toilet explodes or when you can't drive yourself home from a doctor's appointment.

I stole this picture from my friend Pam's facebook. Hopefully she's ok with it. Do I live my life being grateful? Not really. I complain about my wireless not being fast enough. My grocery store clerk for taking too long. My paycheck not having enough zeros.

Today I am going to practice the art of gratefulness. I'm going to suck at it, but I am going to keep trying. And to those of you that have encouraged me with your words, notes, texts, emails, and all points in between...you have turned this tough girl into a complete softie.

And I am grateful.

-Liz

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 Diary. Daily.

Every day. Every single day.

Yesterday was round 2 of steroid injections. And I was all "Hey, this will be no big deal! Last time it was actually kind of fun!"

I am so naive.

This time, Dr. Bhat got me. And he got me good. Was he mad at me? Bad morning at the golf course? Obamacare got him down? Whatever it was, he took it out on me, and my bare butt (yeah he's seen my beautiful booty twice now and has yet to buy me a meal) on that x-ray table.

Someone asked me what it felt like. You know that sensation when you might accidentally chew tin foil and it hits a filling? (note: who "accidentally chews tin foil'? Me. But it happened more when I was a kid. So I am not sure what my parents were feeding me?

Or what about the feeling when you get a paper cut? But not an ordinary paper cut. This paper cut is from the lip of a manilla envelope and it's in the webbing of your hand or something.

Or if your knee cap momentarily slips out of its home and you were like "what the heck just happened to my body?"

So yeah, add those three things together and multiply them by 5 or so...it's a math problem. A painful one.

But I also said to the doctor and nurse "This hurts WAY more than last time! So that means it's going to work!" I didn't get the resounding high fives I was looking for. I think they were just appeasing me. But I am excited nonetheless.

I am up this morning, and I feel less numbness in my leg. Great sign. I can put more weight on my left leg. Great sign. I have more hope than ever. Great sign.

I do feel like God has said to me "Why has it taken this debilitating injury to get some time with you?" He's right. So I have been practicing that art of surrender and purposefully writing in my journal every morning, THANKING Him for this. Not for causing this (because He didn't...deadlifts did) but for using the pain for good. Beauty out of brokenness. And at the end of each entry I tell him that I love him and I ask for one thing: "God, please heal my body."

Because I know God can. And God will. Stay tuned...

-Liz

White flag.

This woman has wisdom. AND a
motorcycle license.
Perfect combination.

Another early morning where instead of doing what I would choose to do if I was able (work out), I have to do what was chosen for me. Ice my back. Make coffee. Take medication. Sit with God. This is the 2 hour window that I need to prep for my day so I can actually be a walking, functioning member of society.

Tomorrow I have round two of my spine injections. I am putting a lot of hope in tomorrow. What God is asking me this morning: "Why can't you put THAT much hope in Me, today?" I still don't trust God fully. That is disappointing.

The temptation here is to hurry up the healing. But isn't that our way? "As soon as this is over, everything will be great." "If only I was past this, I could get back on track." "If I just didn't have to deal with this, I would be more thankful."

I am learning how to wave the white flag here. I have to surrender. I can fight this all I want, and cry every day about it (which happens each morning, like clock work), or I can surrender. I preach surrender to other people every day. But now it's time for me to man up and do it myself.

I am a fixer. I want to fix things and immediately move on. I equate this problem with that stupid show "Extreme Home Makeover." (sorry if you like it, but it is really emotional propoganda.) They set out to do great things. They rebuild a home in a week. I always wanted them to go back to that house a year later to see how it's fallen apart because of the carelessness of rushing through a renovation.

I want to be renovated by God from the foundation up. And I can only imagine how much time that takes. Because I am tough. And God knows that. He also knows how long this will take so that the change will actually stick.

So it's white flag time. For me. And maybe for something in your life too?

-Liz

You. Are. Awesome.

Tonight I was honored to speak at the Cary Y Leaders Club inductions ceremony. How do I motivate a group of leaders and also keep the interests of their parents? I was open about the fact that, for most of my life, I have struggled with how to let God decide my self-worth, and not other people. That my mistakes don't define me and that God created me to be uniquely me.

In other words, why do I try so hard to fit in when I was born to stand out?

Tonight I am grateful. In the midst of body pain and hopelessness, I was encouraged and loved by so many families that know me, and so many that became new friends tonight. I have an amazing job that allows me a platform to speak of the love of Jesus Christ.


So here's to encouragement. Here's to those of you following God's plan right where you are: to love Him and love others. 

I am humbled. Thank you, Cary Leaders Club for teaching me something great tonight. And remember: You. Are. Awesome.

-Liz

People plungers.

Friday night I had my friends Hannah and Austin over for dinner and a little backyard bonfire. We have all had crazy weeks, it was great to sit around and do nothing. Our conversation even brought up the question: What is the grossest thing you've ever had to work with or clean up or touch? (This question is important to the story, and is about to have a new answer.)

They left at around 10:30 and I came back into the house to the sound of rushing water. I peaked into my downstairs bathroom and my toilet was...I don't know how to put this...EXPLODING.

And I mean exploding. Like a dirty fountain filled with toilet paper, leaves, pine needles, and a number of other questionably mirky things.

It's great to get to the point where you don't know
how to thank your friends for being your friends.
Side note: we all had to throw our shoes away after
this event on Friday night.

I was standing in a few inches of water in my bathroom and thought: "What do I do?" I didn't even have a plunger.

I simply thought that one of my friends had blown up my bathroom and then high tailed it out of there. But now I have a mess. A HUGE, stinky, mess.

So I called Austin and said "EMERGENCY! Bring a plunger!" She and Hannah were at my house in 5 minutes.

To make a long story short, Hannah's dad had a carpet cleaner (thank God) and we spent the next few hours bailing out the mirky water and floating debris (that's what I am choosing to call it) and waiting for the plumber. Mike the Plumber showed up around 1 am with the tools for the job and some stories that have scarred me for life. (Note: don't ask a plumber about the weirdest thing he's ever seen unless you are prepared to be psychologically changed forever.)  Mike the Plumber's diagnosis is that one of the outside sewer lines had been cracked by tree roots and the pipe was clogged up with roots and debris, causing my toilet to clog up and eventually back up violently right into my house.

I have had some thoughts to think about this event. Strangely enough, it coincides with a hard reality that God has shown me this week. Something I have known for my whole life but am so afraid to admit:

I SUCK AT LETTING PEOPLE IN.

All caps. There, I said it. And maybe this is why I like keeping a blog. I can really bare my soul to everyone, but it's on my terms. In my words. Limited. My way. No surprises.

My back stuff has forced me to rely on others. It has slowed me down. It has made me examine myself and look in the mirror harder than ever. And Friday night was hilarious to me because I was like...embarrassed to ask for help. But I had no other choice. I had to call my friends and they had to come over and stick their hands in my shit (sorry, but seriously, that's what it was) and help me clean it up. There was no way around it.

Reminder: your texts are more
important to people than you think.

I called Austin and Hannah because I thought I just needed to borrow their plunger. That I only needed a tool from them. Austin said it pretty well at the end of the night: "The best part about this, is that you thought all you needed was a plunger."

What I needed was them. It's crazy how we use other people to get what we want, and don't even know it. But Friday, for me, was a funny reminder from God that I need people. And that's not always on my terms or the ways I want it to be. Sometimes people see the parts of me that I don't want anyone to see. And surprise surprise, they love me anyway! In fact, people seem to like knowing these parts of me!

Would I have preferred my toilet to have not exploded? Yes. But did God use it to paint me a picture of why it's necessary to let people in? Yes.

Newsflash: I don't have it all together. And neither do you. So can we stop pretending that we do?

-Liz

For those of us that need a little hope today.

I have developed a pretty structured routine in the morning. Time has to be available for me to get moving and feel ok physically to walk around and be ready for my day. So I decided to also text verses to a few friends out of whatever I am reading in the bible. One of my friends has reciprocated that for me a few times, and here is what she just sent me this morning:

Do you not know? 
Have you not heard?

The Lord is the everlasting God, 

the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary,
 
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary

and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary, 

and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
 
will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles; 

they will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40)

As my frustration is growing and my patience is wearing thin, I am amazed at how this promise from God is as true for me today as it was to the world thousands of years ago. This verse reminds me that God is big and I am small. My problems are huge but God is huger (yeah I know it's not a word).

My morning spot on my back porch. Yesterday it was
my spot for 4+ hours. I could have used a lot more
time with God there.

I don't understand why I am still in pain. But according to this verse, maybe I'm not supposed to. All I am supposed to do is hope in the Lord. So today, I will practice that. Because today, I need a little hope.

(side note: yesterday was one of the most emotionally charged days that I've had in a very, very long time. If I am able to sort out what the heck happened, I might be able to write about it one day...)

-Liz

Nothing is wasted.

7am on a Wednesday.

Typically you would find me getting ready to go workout. Or sleeping in if I could. But for a 10am meeting, I have to be up right now. I live 3 miles from the Y, I'm a quick showerer, so why the early rise?

My back injury is the worst in the morning. And I mean, the worst. The steroid shots have helped. I can walk around now, but I am nowhere near where I thought I would be by this point. I had dreams of being able to work out by now. Back in my routine. Better than ever. But I'm not better than ever. Not physically anyway.

Don't worry, I checked. You can't
read my Dear Diary in this photo. I hope.

So when I get up, I can barely walk. My left leg and calf muscle are so tight and in pain that it often wakes me up in the middle of the night (like last night but I watched Sons of Anarchy so it's ok man what a GREAT episode). I've come to realize that in the morning I need to ice my back immediately and take my medicine before I can even shower. Showering is SUPER painful.

And here I am. My new routine. I need to give myself at least two hours in the morning to get ready. I wake up, I hobble downstairs for an ice pack. I make my green smoothie and coffee, take my medicine, and I sit with God. I write to him. I cry to him. I read about him. And I listen to him. It has become a physical necessity for me to start every day this way.

Why did it take a crippling back injury for me to see my need for God like this?

Nothing is wasted. Not even the most painful injury I've ever had (I know that I have been fortunate in life). In this, God is doing something beautiful.

When it comes to God and his meticulous care for us, nothing is wasted.

See you in a couple hours.

-Liz

You don't deserve this.

It's my insides! And needles. Cool.

Do you ever notice how people try to explain death and heartbreak away by blaming it on God? We don't understand why bad things happen to good people. But we don't seem to complain when good things happen to bad people, when good things happen to good people, or when bad things happen to bad people.

I'm just saying...God is not the one behind the crap in our lives. He just isn't.

But I think it's in our DNA to try to assign blame. And I've had a lot of time think about why my back is so screwed up. Why have I been sidelined for months? Why do I have to deal with this? Why me?

We pray, and when God doesn't answer immediately, we either blame God, or think "Well, I must have done something to deserve this."

I'm the first one to admit...the bible is confusing. But that doesn't mean I get to assign my own characteristics of God to match what makes sense to me. God doesn't make sense to me. Because that kind of love doesn't make sense to us. We are much quicker to assign blame to God because it is easier to believe that we deserve heartbreak instead of love.

What the heck?

This back injury is showing me that in action. God didn't "strike me down" because I didn't pray enough one day. He didn't give me this injury to teach me patience. But He is going to make something beautiful out of this crappy season I'm in. 

I get confused by that. I think God is causing me pain. When really...He is gifting me with hope in the MIDST of pain. Think of it this way - you are the victim of a hurricane that devastates you. Your home is destroyed, you lose your home and your possessions. In the middle of the storm, you are rescued, and the storm passes, and you rebuild your home, stronger than ever. God's role in that? Never the storm. Always the rescuer.

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this gracein which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. - Romans 5

I am more hopeful today, after a new treatment plan with my doctors. Today I had a steroid epidural in my spine. It wasn't bad at all! Crazy feeling. So now I wait. I exult in this tribulation, because I know that it leads to hope.

And hope does not disappoint.

-Liz

My kitchen window

I would have to say that a blog isn't worth anything unless I'm willing to blog the ups AND the downs and all the crazy curveballs in between.

My back isn't better. In fact, it's a new strange kind of worse. I have a lot of numbness and weakness in my left leg, walking is difficult, work outs are lame. Today was my first day on the weight room floor in a week. It felt GREAT to be up there, but now I am feeling it in the "please God I hope I didn't overdo it" kind of way.

Party at my house! Sike.

This is my kitchen window sill. I am trying a lot of different doctors. Chiropractors, myofascial release therapy, back specialists, etc. These are all medications that I could take, but am trying my best not to take. I would rather figure out the cause of my pain than medicate it.

Wednesday of next week I am getting a nerve series done on my left leg and hopefully that will show what's happening. If not, it's onto a very expensive MRI and then who knows what...but there is talk of cortisone shots or surgery. If you are a praying person, please pray for me. Until then, I am very limited. There is certainly a silver lining in this cloud, but right now I am pretty much dealing with the cloudy weather.

I'll keep everyone posted. (and P.S. Sunday is pumpkin day at Goodberry's, so get you some. See, I can end this on a positive note!)

-Liz

The view from the sidelines

I am sidelined.

More of the same. Back issue. Not being patient. Becomes another back issue. Not being patient. Becomes a leg issue becomes a nerve issue becomes blah blah blah.

Not the point.

Here's the point: it is good to be sidelined. The view from the sidelines has shown me some amazing things:

1. It has slowed me down. I have had time to rest, to wake up, to sit on my back porch for hours at a time and read my bible, write in my journal, and read a good book. (Love Does, Bob Goff. Get it.)
2. It has given me a better view of the big picture. (note to self: this is a marathon, not a sprint. CHILL OUT.)
3. It has shown me that there are other things than the game that matter. There are the fans, the coaches, the grass, the air, the clouds. (note to self: Even when you are sidelined, the game continues. Therefore, it's not all about me.) 
4. My weight is not the only thing that matters. I matter more to God than anything I can say or do. He loves me right now, where I am, on the sidelines. He doesn't care what the score of the game is. He cares more about how I feel, who I love, and how I love. Not what I can do, not how I can impress Him, not what I can produce. (if you are like me, you might need to read #4 one more time.)

I would like to say with confidence that I am enjoying this "time out." I'm not. It feels like a penalty box and I am clawing my way to get out. But God is saying "Not yet, not yet." I don't know why not yet, but He's the coach, so I can't go till He says it's time. 

This is a process. Like most everything else in life. It's amazing how God is showing me that there really are not checklists when it comes to matters of the heart. I don't care if it's your friendship, your boyfriend or girlfriend, your addictions, your struggles, your loneliness, there is no checklist. And it's naive for me to think that there is. This process goes on because God wants to show me that He loves me every step of the way. In the valley as much as the mountain.

You might be on the sidelines like me. Or, you might be in the game and you're killing it right now. We'll sub in for each other soon enough. But when we do, know that God is with us, behind us, before us, and all around us.

He's tricky like that.

-Liz

Reminder: your body is not a garbage can.

Here's a good one for you.

So, remember the box of food I threw out two weeks ago? What a great process, right? It was like breaking up with an old boyfriend, but it had to be done. Check. On to the next thing.

But my trash men (or, God doing funny things through my trash men) had other things in mind.

Trash day is Friday. Every Friday. No problem. And you take the big green bin to the curb, they dump it, whatever. Now I have trashed lots of things that aren't bagged. Never ONCE in three years has trash not been picked up.

Except two weeks ago, the trash men took everything in my green trash bin. Except for my box of food. When I got back from work Friday night, I pulled my bin to my house. I opened up the lid to make sure it was empty. And they had taken EVERYTHING but my box of food.

Weird. But I had to laugh. I made the decision to toss all those treats and say goodbye forever! But now, even the trash men wouldn't take it.

Then yesterday. I took the trash out. ALL the trash. Some bagged, some not bagged, whatever. Then last night, I go to the curb, bring back the bin. And you guessed it. They took everything BUT the box of food!

I can't figure it out. I don't know why it happened other than to make me laugh. Mostly because last night, I had to turn my trash bin upside down and physically bag up all my FAVORITE junk food that had now been in 90 degree heat for two weeks. Milk duds turned deadly, sour patch kids proved their name, and it turns out there are some things that I just won't do for a liquid Klondike bar.

Sorry, no more food puns.

My friend Mariette was the first person that I ever opened up to about my weight. We started Weight Watchers together and were successful at it. I remember during one teary conversation she told me "Your body is not a garbage can." Meaning...those "clean plate club" and "there are starving children in Africa" excuses that we make to eat beyond being full is just like treating our bodies like garbage cans.

Did God use my trash men to give me a few more weeks to REALLY get what I did? To REALLY show me that the stuff I am using to numb my pain and satisfy my soul will make me sick and is the ultimate cause of the same pain I am trying to medicate?

Or maybe those guys just saw that box of rotten klondike bars and said "Hey, I might be a trash man, but there's still some stuff I won't touch."

So if my trash men won't touch it, I guess it's time for me to stop eating it.

-Liz

(p.s. I sort of wish I could ruin your day by having a way that you could smell these pictures. Gag-worthy indeed.)

What happens after heartbreak?

I have been heartbroken lately. For a lot of reasons. And sort of, in every area of my life. It is a sure sign that God thinks I am stronger than I think I am, because I have experienced loss and debilitating challenge in work, family, health, friendship, on and on. But God knew I could handle it when I didn't.

A sure sign of my heartbreak lately has been watching my food demon resurface. If I trace back the times in my life that I have let food be my comfort, my companion, my escape, my drug...I could write a book. And maybe I still will. But the point is this: it's what we do after heartbreak that matters most.

When there's a bump in the road, I can deal with it pretty well. But when someone takes dynamite and decides to blow the road up and all of the optional detours, well that's when my life scares me. And life has been scary.

And so it was a challenging summer, which is as detailed as I can get in a public blog. But I hope you understand how heavy my heart is as I write that sentence. I did give up on myself for a while there. I know this, because I allowed that demon to comfort me, to be my companion, to give me escape, and to numb my pain.

My new safe place. It's perfect, because
Ben and Jerry can't fit on the bike.

As silly as it sounds, it was the throwing away of that box of food (see my last post) that turned me back around. At the time, it was an impossible request. But I couldn't see the way out. You see, when you do one little thing wrong, the next thing doesn't seem so bad. And then that next thing is a little MORE wrong, but you don't notice it because you're already in it. But before you know it, you're in so deep that you can't imagine turning anything around. It truly seems impossible.

If that's not addiction, I don't know what is.

And so God used my trainer to wake me up. And God has used a few friends to wake me up. And God has allowed some serious pain to all but consume my life over the past few months. But God knows that I am stronger.

I used this in a talk for work once, and I am living it as my reality right now:

There is an ancient Japanese art form called Kinsugi, in which the artist takes beautiful pottery and deliberately breaks it. He then puts the pottery back together again, filling the cracks with gold. The result was that the finished piece of mended pottery became much more valuable than if it was never broken at all.

We are all broken people. And it's what happens after the heartbreak that matters the most. So we have to get back on the horse, or for me, the spin bike. And we have to be able to see the beauty in our broken pieces.

Right?

-Liz

How honest do you want me to get?

I used to follow a blog called "365 days with the 330 pound woman." One random April day, she stopped blogging. Never to be heard from again. Why? Well, I think she gave up.

Another fellow weight loss blogger that I know lost 125 pounds. And then she disappeared, too. But she resurfaced. And she started over, after gaining back about 40 pounds.

I never thought I would be that person to lose a bunch of weight and gain it back. Those statistics were dumb to me. I would NEVER gain weight if I lost it! But I am coming to realize, the only thing worse than never losing weight, is losing it and then gaining it back.

See, it's hard work in the beginning, to lose weight. But everybody is so encouraging! And then the results start to show, and every single day, someone says something about it (some great, some awkward, but you secretly like the attention). But then after a while, you plateau. And they find someone else to encourage, and you're like a washed up teen star. Who wants to eat to numb those feelings. (Oh come on, that's just me? Told you I was getting honest here.)

Don't freak out. I haven't gained 80 pounds. But I've gained some. Enough to make my pants tight. Enough to make me worried. Enough to make me disappear from my blog. How did I let this happen? Let's just say that a back injury paired with bronchitis turned into a cheat meal which turned into a cheat summer. And I ate whatever I wanted. I don't know why. Maybe to see if I could do that.

Well, I can't. Yes, it's true. If you eat like crap, you end up feeling like crap. And those ten seconds of foodie bliss end up to a summer of regret.

See, bad eating is kind of like bad anything. You do a little something bad, then the next thing isn't so bad, and then that next thing doesn't seem as bad, and then before you know it, you're going to two different Kroger's to find the right Krispy Kreme donuts to eat for breakfast.

Yes, that happened.

So fast forward to this morning. I had my first session with my trainer again, after taking the summer off. I was nervous. We didn't weigh in (thank God) because I'm emotionally not ready for that. But she did ask me about my eating. I think the conversation went something like this:

Trainer: "Well, it sounds like you've been working out a bit less because of your back, but has your eating been ok?"

Me: "Nope."

Trainer: "Really?"

Me: "Yeah, I have literally been eating everything in sight. I do good during the day, but then I go home, and it's game on."

So we end up talking this through and she finds out I have junk food at home that I snack on at night. GOOD junk food. Like Sour Patch Kids and Klondike bars and chocolate covered pretzels. So she says six words that sent me reeling.

"You have to throw it away."

Logically, she was right. But let me tell you, when it comes to binge eating, there is no logic. There is emotion. And emotionally, it was like she had asked me to break up with my boyfriend. I realize this sounds ridiculous, but in the moment, I thought "there's no WAY I am doing that! This woman is crazy to ask that of me."



The box of junk food. I had to throw it out rather than give
it out. There was something in the trashing of it that
felt appropriate.

But in God's perfect sense of humor, as we were walking and she says this, there is an old Kinko's box at my feet. She says "take this box, and dump all the food in it and throw it out!" I protested and said "Why can't I just have a little something here and there?" to which she replied:

"You are going to eat your way through it!"

Ouch.

The logical and emotional sides of brain had a fight for about an hour. And I am proud to say, the logical side won. Today. And I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but it's time for me take my life back.

And this box of junk food is the beginning.

-Liz