Finding Balance through Resilience

One of the "fun" perks of pregnancy is that you are always growing in one direction: forward.  I keep running into things, because my stomach is growing more than I realize or because I’m a bit off balance. I’ve never had the best sense of balance…I’m not the best bike rider…but I am very good at resilience--falling down and getting back up again.  Ironically(divinely/thankfully), I returned to my yoga practice a few weeks before we got pregnant, and I have kept it up since then with a few necessary modifications. I do a lot more “table-tops” and “child’s pose” and I avoid “forward folds” and “downward dogs”.  At first I avoided the balance poses, because I was afraid I might fall.  Then one of my teachers said, “Those will be the most important for you now. Your weight is shifting every day, so the more balance poses you do, the more you can adjust to the changes happening in your body.” 

I had never thought of deep squats or “Sunflowers”(my yoga instructor really calls them that!) as balance exercises, but as I get bigger, it almost makes me giggle when I feel like falling forward.  Like the Sunflower balancing her head of seeds, my belly is growing with size and weight! Every time I show up for yoga, I get to rediscover what’s happening to my body, and it helps me find balance later in the day. Even simple arm and leg extensions, like “bird dogs”, seem confusing to my body some mornings. Once I wrap my brain around what my body can and can’t do, I am able to make safe choices and feel more agile throughout the day.

The balance exercises do more to strengthen my muscles than to secure me to the ground.  I find that it’s more about having the muscle tone for resilience than the “rock-solid” sense of balance. This has been a major turning point for me with yoga, but also when it comes to life. I had always thought that balance came from this unwavering sense of solidness, and yet, in reality, my balance comes from my strength and practice of resilience.

Last week I preached about Philippians 4, and I keep getting drawn back into these encouraging words from Paul.  “Rejoice in all things…I have discovered the secret to finding contentment in plenty and in want…I can do all things through Christ, the one who gives me strength.”  Growing up, I was always trying to reach this pinnacle of spirituality with unwavering faith.  I worked hard to lean on God and prayed fervently for this secret to finding a balance of the heart once I became “strong enough” through Christ.  The trouble was that every time I started to feel a bit stronger, life would rip the rug right out from underneath me again.  I refuse to see my hand injury or the loss of our first baby as “trails from God to make us stronger.”  The God I worship brings life out of death, not the other way around.  

Nevertheless, when I look back on these challenges, contentment didn’t rise out of a sense of unwavering faith. My faith wavered so much I felt more like one of those flailing air inflatables outside a car dealership. Like those people of fabric, I kept falling on my face, but the breath of God helped me find the strength to get back up again.  Little did I know that during these embarrassing moments when I lost my balance of faith, I was gaining the strength to believe again.  This strength of resilience pushes me to find beauty and hope through each circumstance. This is what I think Paul was getting at when he encouraged his friends to “rejoice in all things.”  When we show up to rejoice, to search for beauty, to commit to hope, to offer thanks, we build the muscles to keep returning to faith.  Even on the days when we can’t see the beauty or our voice is frozen and can’t rejoice, when we at least show up and give it a try, we can acknowledge the big things that are happening in our lives and making this search for balance so hard.  When we ignore these changes, we might find it easier to say, “Rejoice,” but we will fail at finding contentment and true joy.  Acknowledging these changes allows us to breathe deeper, bend further, and find a balance strengthened by the muscles we built by getting up after we fall.

May you also find the strength to continue on your journey of hope by exercising your muscles for resilience. And may the balance you find connect you with the peace of God which surpasses all understanding and guards our hearts and minds as we reach out for the next big thing!

Read more of Philippians 4 by clicking here.

PS. My favorite app for all kinds of yoga and especially prenatal yoga is Yoga Studio. Here's a link for GooglePlay and iPhone.  And honestly...you don't have to be pregnant to do prenatal yoga...anyone looking to "give birth" to a new season of their life will find that it can open up your hips and open up your heart;)

My Little Secret

I’ve been keeping a secret, holding it in my heart, waiting with excitement to tell everyone I see. Robbie and I are expecting a baby in January 2019! For those of you who have been following our story, you know this is a tender time, full of joy and fear and wonder and anxiety and ginger chews and ptsd flashbacks and brand new experiences. The longer version of this story started back in January when Robbie and I embarked on a cycle of In Vitro Fertilization.  I used that time to build

trust.  I spent many hours in meditation, learning to trust my body again. I spent many hours painting, reading, and walking in contemplative prayer, learning to trust God again.  I spent several hours on the road to Kansas City, in waiting rooms and taking shots, reminding myself that all of this human effort still left room for God’s activity, that IVF is an “art” form and relies on the magic of creation, which normally works one way, but if everything was working “normally” we wouldn’t be doing this. I ended the cycle with my body being in better shape and feel healthier than I have in years. 

Unfortunately, that space for God to move was proven in a painful way—an unsuccessful cycle. On Good Friday afternoonwe got the call which revealed I was not pregnant, and Robbie and I carried on with our worship commitments, singing songs and praying with the same fervor and feelings of denial and frustration and betrayal that drove Peter to abandon the Jesus who would give up and die on a cross. “Our lives were supposed to be different. We have been serving you with our whole hearts. What have we done wrong? What do we do now? Where do we go from here? Will we ever receive the promises of God?”

I call it the worst April Fool’s Joke Ever. I literally preached on Easter morning, which fell on April Fools Day, saying, “Are you ready to be surprised by God today? No one knew what would happen that First Easter morning.  Every follower of Jesus was dumbfounded and devastated. They thought they knew what Jesus was up to, and then all of a sudden, he was gone! They thought all was lost, and then Jesus rose from the grave.  The resurrection was a HUGE surprise! God wants to surprise you again this Easter! God wants to surprise you with Joy, Love and Hope. Are you ready?” Was I ready? I wanted to be with my whole heart. Surprise us God, I prayed.

We spent that week feeling pretty lost, but we decided we would try another cycle in May, which meant a whole month of sabbath rest for us. No shots, no driving, plenty of exercise, plenty of couple’s time together, and plenty of caffeine for Kati. We would love God and love the life we had together, whatever that looked like.

By the end of the month, I had a feeling. After several fool proof tests, it was undeniable. We were pregnant. Robbie and I were speechless.  I literally laughed loud. I felt a bit like Sarah listening to the angels tell Abraham that she would bear a child. I couldn’t stop laughing. Considering about a month before a doctor had suggested we use donor eggs if we wanted to insure a successful pregnancy, considering all the extra scientific effort which had stimulated my natural hormones, considering our determination to be open to whatever God had in store for us, and God gives us a spontaneous chance with what we really wanted most of all.

So, here we are, 12 weeks down and at least 25 weeks to go. We considered on waiting to announce until the kid was graduating from High School, because we know and understand the fragile nature of life, but we wanted to share this story of immense joy as soon as we could so that we can savor and enjoy every stinkin’ minute of it.  So rejoice with us, because today is the day that the Lord has made.

Alleluia, Amen.

The One Who Chose Me

Robbie and I truly had a religious experience at Universal Studios, and I say that because I believe the Holy Spirit was there, present with us, sending us words of hope and knowing.  As soon as we arrived in Diagon Alley at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter we went straight to Ollivander’s to get a wand.  We weren’t quite sure what to expect, but inside the shop someone told us we could either select a wand from the shelves or visit the Wandmaker and the wand would choose you.  So, we went to the Wandmaker, of course.  

We waited in a hallway with other people for about ten minutes, and my mind started to wander…”Would they come get us one at a time?  What wood might I expect? What kind of power would I want?  What am I looking for from the wand?”  Hope.  I wanted something to embody hope for new beginnings.  I played around with the idea of unicorn hair, but part of me felt like unicorns were too pretty and happy for the kind of authentic hope I’m looking for.  Then I thought about Harry’s Pheonix feather in his wand.  The pheonix could be a great metaphor for our lives as we have risen with life out of the ashes of death.  Then something inside me thought about the dragons, and their passion and fire, and something struck a chord with me. The love and power of a dragon could display the kind of hope I want.

Suddenly the assistants were leading us down the hallway… “so we’re doing this as a group,” I thought.  We turned a corner and there was the Wandmaker, writing in his book by the dim light of his magical lamp next to him in a room filled with wands all the way up the very tall walls.

I started to step up to him, and one of the assistants pulled me aside.  “Everyone please fill into the room with the shorter people in front, so everyone can see.”

I don’t remember what happened next, but before I knew it, the Wandmaker was looking at me and called me forward to receive my wand.  He measured my arms and talked about character and the many ways a wand would choose you.  I knew he was an actor, but he felt more like a sage wizard.  The room, his voice, the air, it all felt real…so magical.  He pulled out a wand of rosewood and unicorn hair and gave it to me. “Give it a flick,” he said.  Shelves popped out all over the place…just like in the books!!! When Harry was trying out wands!  “No, no, no, that won’t do.”  Then he pulled out a wand of oak with a phoenix feather, “Ok,” I thought, “This could be it.” He asked me to say, “Wingardium leviosa.”  With my best Hermione impression, I waved my wand and said the words. LOUD BANGS, and flickering lights.  “I wonder…” said the Wandmaker….I almost jumped out of my skin. “Here is a wand made of ash wood with dragon heartstrings.”  When I took the wand in my hand the light shone all around me.  It took everything within me not to burst out crying and weeping, because here in my hand was the true embodiment of the strength I desire—the heartstring of fire which rises from the ashes.

I never thought I would own a wand, and yet how many of us are yearning for someone to choose us and offer us a physical and metaphorical gift of meaning in life.  I have chosen and held many instruments in my hand: flutes, conducting batons, kazoos, books, paintbrushes.  This gift feels different.  I know it has no physical power outside of the park, and yet, in my hand I am reminded of the dragon heartstrings that God fixed within my soul.  

“I am fearfully and wonderfully made,” says the Psalmist about our Maker. I have been chosen by God to do big things, and so have you.  The magic comes when we believe in the Maker’s ability to love us, know us and do marvelous things through us.

Beauty in the Bark

Photo Credit: me. Yep. We went to Florida. So, the next few posts will most likely reveal some of our reflections during our amazing adventure in Orlando. The first "attraction" that struck my curiosity were the varieties of palm trees and palmeados. My knowledge of palm life cycles has become a mix of observation and YouTube videos of palm experts talking about how to grow one at home. What fascinated me was this longing to know why some trees are short and others are crazy tall? Why do some have a full trunk of woven branches and others just have just the top basket? Do they prune themselves or do gardeners pull off the palms to reveal their bark? I wanted to observe them up close so I could paint them, and in the midst of that longing to know more about them, I realized I was actually looking with wonder for my own self growth and “pruning.”  

In my last year of rising strong, I haven’t been sure how to put words together about where I go from what has happened to us.  Moving “forward” or “on” doesn’t seem to fit. I know that roses are more beautiful when pruned, and every challenging experience teaches us and strengthens us, but how do you move on without putting something behind you or letting go of that person you have lost? You can let go of the pain, you can receive forgiveness for your regrets, you can express grace for the shame in your life.   And then what do you do with this fact that God let you fall, you were not protected and you carry yourself differently, feeling a bit more fragile and a lot more tender.

I’ve been looking for an image of wholeness which honors brokenness and tenderness with beauty. I think that’s what drew me to look closer at the palm tree.  What I instinctively noticed as beautifully woven bark was actually broken branches, remaining on the tree. The striking rings on the tallest trees, also show the marks of palms grown and lost.  The beautiful and distinctive trunk reveals the history of the loss of life and broken branches. Like a beautiful tapestry or a growing palm tree, this masterpiece of our personhood continues to change shape and twist, to grow further out and further up, like our ever expanding universe. 

The pain and loss we have endured adds to the beauty and the grit of our character. Our experiences hang on like those broken branches, and we will continue to reach out with new branches, trusting that no matter what life prunes from our tree, the resourceful and imaginative creator will continue to add to our beauty and the Breath of Life will keep us dancing in the wind.

New Beginnings

Ahh…2018, how we have longed to see you.  You are not offering us the welcome we wanted.  Bitter storms and mudslides instead of quiet winter days and solid ground to steady our feet.  The continued threat of war, the continued fear of those who are different from us, the continued bickering from the right and the left.  You may put on a show of gloom and doom, but we know the truth.  You are offering us a new beginning each day.  Every morning, every step, every breath is another chance to re-direct our perspective towards hope.  

We have come a long way from the day when Martin Luther King Jr. simply spoke the words of his dream for an America where "one day right there in Alabama little black boys and little black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.”  Some days the children seem to be kinder to one another than we are.  Other days, the children reveal the worst of our locker room conversations, degrading one another for things we didn’t know we taught them.  We still have a long way to go to reach the day when children "will not be judged by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character.”

Disruptive Nature, Divisive News, and Distracting Networking block us from taking a break, pausing for a new breath, or resetting our course for hope.  We have met the challenges of our times with genuine perseverance, and we will continue to meet whatever you bring to us in 2018 with determination and a good sense of humor.  May we do so with hearts as courageous as Maya Angelo, who said, “Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time."  

One more time? I can do that.  I can trust and hope for another day, another new beginning, and from there, we’ll take a breath, reset, and trust again. 

#Thanks2017

Thank you, 2017, for teaching me to cherish the good things in my life. By staying in the present moment, I have learned to savor each bite, each conversation, each sunrise, each breath, and more.

Thank you, 2017, for illuminating the gaps in racism, sexism and hatred that have been lingering beneath our surface relationships with our neighbors. People didn’t just get more violent and hateful this year, they just finally felt the freedom to speak their minds. Now we can see clearly that there is a lot of work to do, if we want to build a nation and a world where every human is valued and given the opportunity to grow, learn and thrive.

Thank you, 2017, for teaching me about resiliency, as I saw people I respect and admire raise gracefully after living big and falling flat on their face. You inspired me to keep #risingstrong.

Thank you, 2017, for technology beyond our imagination.  The instant gratification I find in Amazon Prime, the smartest phones ever, and home videos in the palm of my hand forces me to find peace and beauty as I wait through the processes which cannot be manipulated, e.g. physical healing, emotional healing, and watercolor painting. 

Really, watercolor deserves it’s own thank you.

Thank you, 2017, for showing me so much ugliness that I returned to watercolor. I saw beauty in the luscious colors. I found hope in the life of the paint.  While waiting for the paint to dry, I soaked up the healing powers of beauty, silence and the passing of grief.

Thank you, 2017, for sending me through the fire. I’m coming out stronger and more beautiful than before.  So, 2018, let’s start with what we’ve learned.  Let’s work on healing those psychological and racial tensions in our world. Let’s keep painting and looking for beauty.  Let’s handle technology with care, and remember that what happens in the virtual world, still happens, so let’s spread some beauty, love and healing out there wherever that world exists.

Let’s welcome in the new year with #eyeswideopen.

The Bounce in My Step

It happened. I bounced up the steps, got to the top, and kept going. Everyday I feel stronger, healthier, and more beautiful. This is not because I’m following our diet perfectly, sucking up the pain and forgetting about our loss. The growth has been from facing the loss, enjoying what’s in front of me, and being honest about how I feel inside. Sometimes that means crying when I “should be” happy. Sometimes that means more milk in my coffee and honey in my tea. Sometimes that means guarding my heart while caring for others.

A few weeks ago, I had an unwavering upswell of my grief. At first, I felt like something was wrong with me, “Why can’t I get past this? Shouldn’t I be better at controlling my emotions by now?” Then I started to question if I was actually physically sick or something. When I went to the clinic, the PA said, “Give yourself a break. You’ve been through a lot. Infertility is hard.” That’s when it hit me. My sadness wasn’t just coming from our onetime loss, it stemmed from our monthly loss, the reoccurring heartbreak in the disappointment of still not being pregnant.

Since then, I’ve been thinking about how facing our grief is like peeling an onion, you get through one layer and it starts to peel back another, and then there’s another, and more tears keep coming, until you get to the center, you let out all of your tears, take a big breath, wash your hands, and reach for the next challenge. (Robbie also suggested that the metaphor continues when we try to put the pieces back over that grief and tuck it away, but the tears still come.)

The revealing of each layer of grief brings the other layers up to the surface. Loss of one parent or grandparent, stirs up the old feelings of the loss of another to the point that the raw grief is intensified by the previous loss.  So, each month, our momentary loss stirs up the pains of our miscarriage, which stirs up the loss of our grandparents, and other past losses along the way.

My first memory of grief is standing a the garage sale, as we were preparing to move from West Virginia to North Carolina.  Someone was coming to take my dog, Koney. I didn’t want him to go, but I knew the new owners would take good care of him and we couldn’t take him with us.  I cried big tears as I let go of my best friend.  My second memory of grief was moving from Charlotte, North Carolina to Wilmington, Dela-“where?” as we called it. We had the best house with our best friends living across the street and a pool within walking distance and the best church I could ever imagine at the time. The last Sunday at our church, the choir sang Micheal W. Smith’s song, “Friends are Friends Forever,” and I cried big tears, again, and again, each time I heard that song.  My third memory of grief is still a big one for me, the loss of my Mama, Rosemary. I’ve written about my grandmothers before in A Thanksgiving for Motherhood and Learning from our Grandmothers.

As I remember the grief, I’m also reminded of the adventure. Each loss accompanied the beginning of a great adventure. Giving up my dog easily precedes the fun and exciting time we would have in Charlotte. Sadly enough, Mama’s death runs parallel with the beginning of my career as a flutist. I put my love for her into flute playing and even visualized her watching and listening to my concerts and recitals in years to come. This blog started with one of my favorite adventures, my journey to the Czech Republic, and yet it came only in my availability after a hand injury.

Somehow my stories of grief and loss have always bumped up against the stories of my greatest adventures. None of those adventures came to us by choice.  None of the losses caused my adventures. By the grace of God, my grief was transformed into beauty as I faced a new challenge with the energy I was holding for something else.  Like when you make a meal for one guest, and then the guest never shows, so you take the meal to someone who needs it and find a whole different experience.  

I wonder what I will look back and see as the great adventure that we are on right now? The adventure of changing the way we eat and think about food? The adventure of playing with watercolor? The adventure of starting our new worshiping community @thelightmhk? The adventure of marriage and cherishing life together? The adventure of telling my story and listening to others?

All of it. This outlook of adventure gives me a bounce in my step, knowing that with each step, fall and bounce our creator is “continuing the great work which has already begun inside” of me.  The holes and cracks in my heart open up space for new growth and life, this is the good news of the love Jesus talks about: 

Love + Grace = Life + Death + Resurrection.

Forgiving God

Beloved, take note of this: everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for one’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.

 James 1:19–20

I’ve been pretty cranky lately. Scientifically the Keto diet mimics the state of fasting where your body turns to burning fat instead of carbs. Who would want to always have that 24 hr fasting high all the time? A crazy person. Or maybe a sane person who had no pre-existent conflict, grief or pressure in their life.

Life is hard. Trying to change your eating habits while life is hard sucks. It sucks.

So, I eat one of Robbie’s 2 carb chocolates or my 5 carb nut mix or steak or ribs and try to re-create “comfort food”. Here’s the catch: Food has never brought lasting comfort, and true satisfaction in food, only opens the door for gratitude, it doesn’t get you there. 

My challenge is that my anger stage of grief is finally stepping up to the plate. 

I am not doubting God's power. I am angry at the use of that power. How am I supposed to trust what I can’t see, when God has already let me fall so hard? And (to borrow a phrase from "Rising Strong") this is "the story I’m making up": God was watching my baby suffer and let him die. God said, His life isn’t worth saving. Then I had to bear the physical and emotional ramifications of that decition. This is the story I’m making up, but it feels like real truth and I can’t get past it. 

So, today I decided to write a new chapter. I know scientifically and theologically that withholding forgiveness only hurts the offended. But who do you forgive when really no one is to blame? Way back to days after Bob’s death, I remember praying, saying I don’t know where to aim my anger because I don’t know who or what to blame. “Blame me,” Jesus said. “I can take it. I did take it. I suffered the punishment for this and every other horrible act on that cross. Let go of your anger and unleash it at me.” 

I have been incredibly “slow to anger”, until we started this new diet and suddenly all of the physical and mental challenges improved in my life to the point that only one struggle remained: why is God withholding a child from two people who would love and teach and nurture with such passion and mercy, with God’s image as their goal!?!

I am losing weight. I look great. So many awesome things are happening in our life, and yet the sadness and the anger remained.

So, this morning I decided to do the scientific and Christian thing, I am going to forgive God. God doesn’t need it, but I do.

This is how I can move to the next chapter, by first writing a chapter of forgiveness. Jesus, you said you want the blame, now I will do what is required of me: I will show you mercy and forgive you as you have forgiven me. 

Now I can face the day with joy. Alleluia, Amen.

Magic Beans

Ok, so they aren’t really beans, but they do seem kind of magical.  My husband, Robbie, and I started a low carb diet a month ago, and I’m feeling so fantastic that I don’t even care that I haven’t had Dr. Pepper, bread or wheat pizza in four weeks.

Chocolate, I eat in small quantities. Sweet Potato fries taste as amazing as french fries. Diet Dr. Pepper really does taste more like Regular Dr. Pepper every day.  We are savoring my pizza dough made from ground up chicken and cheese and covered with ground up sausage and more cheese and crushed tomatoes.

Carb filled food still looks yummy, but then I reach into my pocket and take out my magic beans, and I am reminded how delicious our new diet turns out to be.

Who else gets to enjoy steak, bacon, eggs, cheese, sausage and heavy whipping cream on a diet!?!

We’ve been taking lessons from Adkins, Keto and other diets, and I’m aiming for around 60 carbs a day, consistently loosing weight and feeling awesome. The first couple of weeks made me very sleepy, but it turns out that this is very typical.

To fight the midmorning and afternoon cravings, I created some nut mixes that turn out to be around 5 carbs, giving me a burst of energy while stopping me from eating whatever is in our break room.

I LOVE my little baggies of magic beans so much that I wanted to share them with you!

Pistachios and Black Walnuts look expensive when you see the bag in the store, but when 1tbsp is a serving, the bag goes much further than the health bars I used to buy. And these snack bags are much more satisfying! 

No matter your diet or eating habits, these recipes will be a treat for the whole family!

Pistalmonds 

12 low sodium almonds (1 heaping tablespoon)

12 dark chocolate almonds (1 heaping tablespoon)

1tbs pistachio kernels 

Walnutty 

1 tbsp Black Walnuts

1 heaping tbsp Coconut Almonds

1 heaping tbsp Chocolate Almonds

My Ninja Story

I am a big Ninja fan. Whether it’s historic Ninja folklore, Dark Knight Ninjas, American Ninja Warrior or Lego Ninjago, I love Ninjas.  I love the depth of their skill which requires strength in a variety of areas.  I love their sleek stealthy ways, somehow humble and peaceful and strong and frightening they seem, all at the same time.  Most of all, I love their resilience, flexibility and persistence. 

Some of the kids in our church (and adults) watch American Ninja Warrior religiously.  One of the parents dropped the comment, “Maybe we should have a Presby Ninja Warrior competition,” and I said, “Hold on, why don’t we? We can do this. Are you joking, because I need to know, before I get too excited about this.”  They all felt like it was a great idea, and believe it or not, we came through.  Our maintenance director, who is an awesome carpenter, helped me make the floating steps with our nursery workers, and he made a warped wall ramp.  I soon discovered that part of the training is in the building of your practice course.  Wood pallets are heavy.  Tires are heavy.  And Wood pallets covered in 3/4” plywood, attached to a couple of 2X4’s are extremely heavy.  When I built the course, I didn’t imagine myself doing it.  I would make it challenging for the kids and adults, but I didn’t expect to touch the top of our ramp, and I really didn’t expect to master the floating steps.

If you’ve been following my blog, you know that we had a traumatic miscarriage, and I developed severe preeclampsia last January.  I expected to recover in a month or two, then I thought it would take me a few months, and then I gave myself till 6 months.  Now that it’s been seven months, I can tell you, some days have been good, some days bad, some days really bad, and still some days I don’t know what to do, and then I put one foot in front of the other and keep going.  I am learning to be kind to myself, and the waves of my grief are not quite as overwhelming as they once were.

When we finished constructing the Presby Ninja course, I asked one of my fit friends to try it.  She had never seen the show, so I had to show her how to do the floating steps…and I hopped from pallet to pallet…and I didn’t touch the floor.  I was shocked at my strength, and I felt incredibly empowered by the way my body was able to gracefully maneuver the obstacle.  After she ran the course, I had her video me doing the course. What a rush! I was able to do the obstacles with pride and confidence.  This little 5’1.5" Presby Ninja even reached to the top of our ramp at eight feet!

The next day our event was a huge success.  The kids were also empowered at their ability to handle this challenging course set before them.  Even the parents stepped up to the challenge. Two of them reached up to 12 feet on the ramp!

Over these last seven months, my healing has seemed to come along very slowly.  In fact, I feel like I’ve been struggling forever and sometimes I wonder if my full strength will ever return. 

From my ninja training, I am learning that each fall makes us stronger, not in the way that keeps us from falling. No, if you are living adventurously or, to use Theodore Roosevelt's phrase(renewed in popularity by Dr. Brené Brown), if you are “daring greatly”, falling, scraped knees, broken arms, concussions and loss will come.  Failure is inevitable at some point in experimentation. The strength we gain from these experiences is manifested in our ability to continue to put one foot in front of the other and “stay the course.” A friend recommended Dr. Brown’s book, Rising Strong, and while I’m reading it, I feel like underlining every word, because she is telling my story, and she is using the most amazing language and terms to make sense of it. Yesterday, I read this complete gem:  

Experience doesn’t create even a single spark of light in the darkness of the middle space.  It only instills in you a little bit of faith in your ability to navigate the dark. The middle is messy, but it’s also where the magic happens.  Brené Brown, Rising Strong

Like ninjas we are called to keep “daring greatly” and taking great leaps in the dark. We do not rely on our perfection or our impeccable invulnerability, we rely, instead, on our ability to bend, to take a deep breath, and to rise with the strength to walk towards the mountain in front of us.

Blessings to you, my fellow ninja, in your current struggle or obstacle course.  May you remember to breathe and keep walking as you seek to navigate the dark.  The light still exists and will shine with greater brilliance when you reach your goal.  The Holy Spirit which breathed life into your bones continues to blow over you, within you, behind you and before you, to guide you on your way home.