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I decided today that I’m on the yo-yo diet - you know, the one that is supposed to be really unhealthy, where you are constantly losing and gaining weight. It’s not a wise choice, but it seems to be the choice I have made.

I’m not fat, but I’m also not the size I want to be, and for some reason can’t stop being obsessed about it. About a year ago, I lost 20 pounds, immediately gained back 5 and kept the 15 off for a year. Recently I have gained back another 8 and am finally getting serious about getting that off. 135 is the weight I maintained for a year, and I’m pretty comfortable there. I can still eat quite a bit of food, and still be thin enough.

I think I like the challenge of losing weight, which is part of the reason I keep gaining it back, to give myself something to do. I don’t know. Maybe I just like food.

Ok, I LOVE food. What’s not to like? It makes me happy.

My latest strategy is the Presidential Fitness Challenge at presidentschallenge.org. It gives a way to track your progress and you get stars and awards for reaching goals. Did someone say stars? I’m in! If you exercise for at least 30 minutes 5 days a week for 6 weeks, you get the “Active Lifestyle Award” and can buy a T-shirt, or a little badge to celebrate. I’ve gotten away from a regular schedule, so I’m hoping this will help. I’m also looking for a 5K race to help me get in training mode. It looks like there’s one in Hickory in November called the Turkey Trot.

My husband John just graduated from Gordon-Conwell seminary with a Masters in Biblical Studies. We attended the commencement ceremony where close to 70 people were graduating with masters and doctorate degrees.

It was hard to keep myself from being mesmerized by all the colorful and interesting robes and hats as they marched in and out and across the podium. I couldn’t help wondering what each color and shape meant. I found out that one advantage of becoming a doctor is that you get to wear a funnier looking hat. I kept thinking about C. S. Lewis’ time when they wore these robes daily, a constant reminder of your rank in society.

I was impressed by one of the student speakers, Teresa Kay Hood, who had the foresight to realize we would be distracted by these colorful status symbols. She talked about how she was broken as a person before she came to seminary, and how she had found healing and new life in the process of her studies. She referred to herself as a cracked pot that had been mended. Then she took it a step further, with love, daring to challenge the caste system. “Don’t be fooled by the regalia and bright colors you see today. Underneath these robes are cracked pots – all,” she said, with a sweet smile and quiet confidence radiating from her face.

That was just the beginning of the theme of Christ-like humility that flowed through the entire service. It was unlike any other graduation ceremony I had ever attended. We were there to celebrate human accomplishment, yet the focus was skillfully shifted back to Christ. The highest award was given to the biggest servant. It was called the “Towel and Basin Award.” The professors and graduating students were all humble servants, grateful to God for their gifts and privileges, while oozing with passion to give it all back to Christ and his church.

Haddon Robinson, the keynote speaker, a man of great accomplishment, had no interest in promoting himself,  but exuded the warmth and grace that comes only by walking with God your entire life. His speech was about putting others first, a brilliant mini-sermon, but his heart and example communicated even more than his words. I ran into him in the hall afterwards. He didn’t know me from Adam and Eve, yet he greeted me as if I were his favorite niece.

I no longer believe the theory that seminaries are cemeteries where people go to die and lose their faith. We are already dead, without the light of Christ in our lives. Spending four to eight years with your face in the Word, as well as the words of those who have gone before us, you cannot help but shine a little brighter as you reflect back that light in your own face. I see this light in my husband, and I see it in the faces of those who have dedicated their lives to study. Now my only problem is deciding what my emphasis will be when it’s my turn to go seminary.

John and I have always had good intentions about meeting and getting to know our neighbors. Over the years we have gotten better at it, but there is plenty of room for improvement.

This is definitely the friendliest place we have ever lived. Even before we had finished unpacking, our neighbors across the street came over on their golf cart and introduced themselves. Bubby and I met the self proclaimed mayor of “Hog Town” on a walk and stayed and talked for 20 minutes. Even the people at the voting poll and the local convenience store treat you like family. Everyone we have met so far has been very kind and welcoming. So, we have no excuse. Still, we are shy.

Leave it to Bella. We now find ourselves with the necessity of meeting every neighbor within a five mile radius as we try to locate the source of Bella’s latest conquest - chickens! Yes, our dog is bringing home chickens. Chicken #1 was promptly disposed of by her mother (me). She did not resist much when I pulled it away from her. Chicken #2 got away and is now hiding behind our shed. (See picture) Chicken #3 was not so lucky and has joined Chicken #1.

We went on a walk this morning. Still no luck locating the chicken owners. But we have leads on where to look next, and some dog sighting reports. “Oh, those are your dogs. I was wondering whose dogs those were. I see them all the time over there on the hill.” Hmmm.

UPDATE: 7:44pm. The chicken pictured here endured one more attack from Bella, then got away, unharmed. John brought home an invisible fence. We just got back from meeting a few more neighbors. Still no sign of any chicken owners. Someone said they sounded like game hens because of their color (black and brown) and that perhaps they are wild. They have seen wild turkeys around here. Also, we learned that one of our neighbors has a reputation for shooting dogs for sport. So, yeah, we are going to be using that invisible fence!

John just walked in to say that the brown chicken is in our shed. Has she adopted us? Not too bright.

The picture below is me with my first commuter, Mr. Green Jeans.

#10) With the money you are spending on gas, you could have put all of your children through college and grad school.

#9) You finished War and Peace on tape in a day and a half.

#8) You maintain a profitable side business knitting afghans during traffic jams.

#7) You are on a first name basis with the gas station clerk because you are there three times a week.

#6) You pass two rest stops on the way, and can’t make it to work without stopping at one for a snack and bathroom break.

#5) The coffee isn’t keeping you awake anymore, so you have resorted to banging your head against the side window.

#4) Last night you found a website on experimental teleportation and are considering signing up as a volunteer.

#3) There’s always a good chance that the war in Iraq will be over before you get to work.

#2) You have time to write a top ten list, edit it and memorize it, all during your morning commute.

And the #1 sign you have a long commute….

Hillary called to commend you for your dedication and let you know she’s a commuter too.

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My commute is currently 1 hour and 45 minutes to 2 hours, one way. Fortunately, I only have to drive to work two days a week. The rest I work from home. It would be 1 1/2 hours if I took the freeway, but I prefer the back roads which I find more relaxing. I wrote this Top Ten list on my way to work Monday morning. 

It was not the best weather for a road trip, but we bundled up as best as we could and braved the snow flurries. This could not wait for another day. Someone’s life was on the line.

The decision to get a pet is not one to be entered into lightly, but worrying too much about everything that could go wrong puts you in danger of missing out on a great thing. I knew I was on the verge of talking myself out of it this time, so I didn’t let my mind go there. Somewhere deep inside I knew this was the right thing to do, even though I knew it would add complexity to my life.

Driving 2 hours to Princeton, West Virginia was cathartic for my cabin fevered soul. It had been months since our last day trip, something John and I both love to do. I was enjoying the moment and anxious to meet the dog who could possibly become our next family member.

When we got to the shelter, they put us in this little room where we waited for what seemed like an eternity while they got her ready to meet us. I could no longer hold back the anxiety. What if it didn’t work out? What if we didn’t “click?” I knew I wanted another dog, but was this the right dog and the right time? What if it just didn’t feel right and I disappointed my husband, who had already decided we were taking her, no matter what?

We had been looking for a Bernese Mountain Dog for about six months now. John and I were in complete agreement that this would be the breed for our next dog. I don’t know the official breed standards, but from what we have seen, they are mostly black, very fluffy, and rather large, with brown and white spots. Sort of a calico dog, if you will. With as many disagreements that a husband and wife go through, it was nice to find our tastes perfectly converged on this tri-colored hunk of a dog.

Pure bred dogs of this breed run about $1500.00. Unfortunately, that is at least $1000 beyond our pay scale, even for the perfect pet. This was a bargain dog we would be looking at today. She ran away from home, and didn’t bring her papers with her. The asking price was a mere $55.00. On the web it said she was mixed with German Shepherd. On the paper in the office, it said Chow. We didn’t care. If she was half as cute as her picture, she would be the bargain of the century.

Then they brought her in. She was a large black bundle of fluff with a painted face, in the arms of a tall, rugged looking gentleman wearing dirty boots. As soon as she was released from the tall man’s arms, she went straight for the corner of the room, with sunken head. Our emotions began to fly. We knew she was gorgeous, but not this gorgeous. We also knew she was shy, but didn’t know she was this shy.

It was obvious she had been through hell and back. Were we ready to take on the challenge of rehabilitating a seriously abused animal? Her saving grace was that she had turned her anguish inward, instead of lashing out. With two cats and a dog already at home, we could not have handled a violent animal.

Knowing that she did not have much longer to live if we did not take her was a motivating factor. Her adorable face didn’t hurt either. John has a very tender heart toward animals. I knew he would not be able to walk out of there without her, and soon realized I felt the same. It’s a good thing John didn’t see any of the other puppies because he would have wanted them all, as well as all the cats.

We have had our puppy a little over 24 hours now, and already she is showing signs of trust. She is sitting next to me sniffing my computer right now. Earlier today, John, our Aussie who is called Bubby, our finger painted ball of fluff, and I sat out on the deck and got to know each other a little better.

While Bubby and puppy sniffed, nosed and jumped around each other, trying to figure out their line of command, their two owners sat and mulled over names. This is very serious business around our house. It’s almost as if the animal already has a name and it’s our job to figure out what it is.

I wanted to name her Lucy. John liked Missy but I couldn’t stand it. We almost went with Lira. Nothing seemed quite right. Then John said, “How about Bella? “Yep, that’s it, ” I shot back. That was her name. It was the only possible name for our beautiful mountain dog.

 

 

My family always had a huge garden growing up. Our house sat on 5 acres of land and we used at least ¾ of an acre for the gardens. There was always one to the south of the house. That’s where Mom had some of her flowers. They always seemed to get first dibs on the yummy kitchen scraps she would throw out there. No compost pile for us. We just threw the leftover veggies and fruits directly on the garden. What the cats and dogs didn’t eat got left for the flowers, watermelons and beans to munch on later, after they finished returning to the black earth from whence they came. It was an easy way to compost, and it worked. I guess raising 8 kids doesn’t leave much room for carefully grooming a compost pile.

Our front yard, except for a patch of trees and flowers that ran down the middle, was reserved for football games, playing catch, or making “houses” out of the grass mulch. We would each make the outline of a house using the mulch and then say “here’s the bathroom, here’s the bedroom. I think I’ll put the couch right here.”

A healthy portion of the back yard was always dug up to reveal lovely brown dirt, until the 80’s when Dad decided to abandon that plot in favor of the flat area in front near the mailbox. Most people don’t have gardens in their front yards next to their mailboxes, but we lived in the country and didn’t care what people thought, so it worked for us. I was always puzzled about why he moved the garden though. It had always been in the back yard. That’s where it belonged. But there was no stopping him. Oh well, let him have his fun. At least the football field was still intact. I don’t think any of us would have let him dig that up.

We had a fair variety of fruits and vegetables, but mostly I remember the corn, tomatoes and green beans. The corn was usually ready by my birthday in mid-July, so I considered that part of my birthday present. “Is the corn ready yet?” “No.” “Will it be ready by my birthday this year?” “Yes. It should be.” Mom seemed to never run out of patience for my endless questions, sometimes the same ones over and over and over again, whether it was about corn harvesting, how to spell a word, or how to sew on a button.

All summer our kitchen counter would be covered with tomatoes of all different sizes and shapes. The ones that didn’t get eaten ended up in the large black vat which seemed to never stop bubbling. I never completely learned how to can tomatoes, though I watched Mom do it countless times. It always seemed so serious, like if you messed anything up you would poison the family, so I was content to just watch.

We ate endless quantities of corn, green beans and tomatoes every summer. I don’t remember ever getting tired of them. For lunch it was tomato sandwiches (Miracle whip and tomatoes on white bread) and corn on the cob. What’s for supper? Why, tomatoes and corn of course! Maybe some green beans and mashed potatoes and hamburgers too. I had no notion that most “normal” people didn’t not consider a tomato enough material for making a sandwich.

We also had a cherry tree, a couple of apple trees, a grape vine, and raspberry bushes. The raspberries were my favorite. Mom knew this, so for my 2nd birthday, she made me a bundt cake with a circle of raspberries on the top. I would have been content to eat the raspberries and forget the cake, which is exactly what I did. We have a picture of me at 2 years old, standing on a chair, precariously leaning over the table to pick the raspberries off the cake. In the background I heard a conversation between Van and Mom. “She’s eating all the raspberries off the cake!” “ That’s ok, it’s her cake.” With this sanction from my mother, I kept eating.

The cherries and grapes were sour, and the apples were never all too sweet either. Why the obsession with sour fruit? I’m not complaining, just curious. They were still fun to pick and eat, or throw (or spit) at each other. The grapes were sweet enough to suck on, but the center was bitter and had a rubbery texture that you wouldn’t want to eat, so after you were done sucking out the sweetness, you would spit that part out…at the nearest sibling.

I don’t remember eating very many of the cherries. They were pretty to look at though – a very bright red, and made great pies, though they would make you pucker up a little, even in a pie. As an adult, when I found out there were varieties of cherries that were actually sweet, I thought I’d died and went to fruit heaven. Every year when they appear in the grocery store, I can’t stop buying and eating them, even though they are expensive. I’m also addicted to sweet grapes, which I eat like candy.

So yeah, Mom made lots of pies out sour fruit. You can make a pie out of anything if you add enough sugar - even rhubarb and gooseberries! Yum, yum! We would go pick gooseberries at Brother Stapleton’s patch. I never understood the purpose of gooseberries. Why not just make a pie out of bark or cardboard? Anyhow, Mom and Dad liked them. On the way home, Van and I would dare each other to try one raw. Once you tried one, you didn’t eat another unless there was a reward involved.

I think my parents took great pleasure in offering food that us kids wouldn’t eat. I was never forced to eat anything. Instead, my parents opted for reverse psychology. “That’s ok. If you don’t want any, there’s more for the rest of us.” [Chuckle, chuckle, wink, wink] Even though I knew they were trying to trick me into trying it, I could never shake wondering what I was missing.

Most of what Mom made was delectable and got gobbled up quickly. But every once in a while she would make something that made the whole house stink, like oyster soup or homemade sauerkraut. This must have been her way of getting some alone time. The house would clear out in a flash, simply because we had an affinity for breathing. I couldn’t help noticing the smirk on her face as we raced out the door.

Morel mushrooms was one of those things I held out on for a long time, content to let there be “more for the rest of us.” I remember Noretta encouraging me to try them. “They’re gooood. You don’t know what you’re missing!” “Yes, I do. They smell funny and look squishy.” But of course I eventually gave in, and now consider morels one of the finest delicacies to ever hit the human palate. I’ve never tried caviar but I’m sure it can’t compete.

Most kids remember not liking peas. I don’t remember any problem with the vegetable, but I do remember Tom (and several others) trying to get me to say “peas” to trick me into saying “please.” I caught on quickly though, and didn’t fall for his trickery. I was a very stubborn child, and I had this thing about not wanting to say “please” and “thank you.” I don’t mean that I was impolite and wouldn’t use them appropriately. I literally had an aversion to uttering the words. I don’t know what I thought would happen if I moved my lips and tongue into those dreaded syllables… “pull – eez,” … “thank yuuuu” but at some point I made up my mind that it wasn’t going to happen. And then it became a game, that I was determined to not lose.

Noretta also tried to trick me by getting me to read a book that had those awful words “thank you” at the end. I never slipped. Eventually, after everyone had forgotten about it, I started saying the words and have adjusted into a fairly normal adult. Even as a child, I knew deep down that I would adjust eventually, and wondered what all the fuss was about. But I enjoyed the attention, and felt loved that they cared enough to try to help me.

I don’t remember being required to do much of the gardening, I guess because I was the baby. I got out of a lot of work. Mom would say, “She can’t do such and such. She has to practice her cello.” I do remember being involved to some degree in all aspects of the process, though it was rarely required that I “go hoe a row.”

I especially remember helping to plant the seeds. “How far apart do they need to be?” “Oops. I put those too close together. Do I need to break up this clump of dirt? Is this row too crooked?” My meticulous nature was already starting to show. Maybe that’s why they didn’t ask me to help much. “That’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It will be ok.” We would take sticks and string to make the rows straight, plant the seeds, then cover the rows up by pushing the dirt back with our feet or the hoe. I don’t remember starting seeds indoors. Most plants went straight into the ground as seeds.

Mom would get up early every morning and go work in the garden while it was still cool. She took great pleasure in this activity. I would not understand this until years later when I planted my own garden.

 

As we all know, the things of this world, also known as temporal, or temporary things are useful while we are on earth, but after we leave, they will be of no use to us. They will be rubbish. Precious gold will be gravel in the New Jerusalem. (Rev 21:21)

As we live on this earth however, in order to stay alive, we must continue to use at least some of these things, such as food, clothing and shelter. The challenge presented to us it to keep it all in perspective, realizing that our time on this earth is short, and we must not become entangled in these things. It is a challenge to keep our minds on eternal things, the things which will last forever.

We will not want any of the temporary things of earth once we are in our eternal home, the New Heaven and New Earth. (Rev 21:1) In fact, we are not even given that option.

A computer creates something known as “temp” or temporary files, which are all files ending in .tmp. Do a search for *.tmp on your computer, and you will see how many you have. These are files that are useful for a short time, but quickly clutter up your computer if you don’t take time to delete them. The things of life are the same way. They clutter up our lives and snuff out the important things if we don’t make an effort to keep the proper perspective. Just as our computers need to be serviced with regular deleting sessions, our drawers, garages, and brains need to be cleaned out from time to time, to make room for the eternal treasures of much greater worth.

This lesson on eternal perspective is something that God has been trying to teach to me for years, and especially in the last year or so. I would like to share with you what he has brought me through, and also some of the Scriptures that God has used to break the hold of the temporary on my life. I still have so much to learn, and have to keep reminding myself by going back to these Scriptures. Much of this is straight out of my journal, from the Spring of 2002, when I was really struggling. I will share that story in a minute.

“And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may surely learn to sense what is vital, and approve and prize what is excellent and of real value.”  (Phil 1:9-10, NIV, AMP)

Read that verse again. It is so important. Wow.

I have just recently started trying to buy and resell antiques and thrift items on eBay. One thing that I have learned from this is the importance of knowing the value of items before I buy them for resale, so that I can make a profit. It is important that I know what items have real value, albeit temporary, verses items that are just plain junk, that nobody wants. If I don’t learn what has value and what doesn’t, I waste my time and money.

It is even more important that we keep in perspective the infinitely greater value of eternal things such as God, unconditional love, and people, and keep that in proportion to the things that only work for this earth. This takes wisdom and discernment.

The point is not that you are more spiritual if you live in a cave with nothing but a spoon, but that you need to be constantly growing in knowledge and depth of insight, as the first above says, so that you can keep it all in perspective. Then hopefully, one day, you will get to a place where if you are stuck in a cave with nothing but a spoon, you will still be happy.
                                                                                                         
A friend once told me about an article in a magazine which showed pictures of families standing in front of their homes, with all of their possessions in a big pile next to them. It was a study in different cultures. They selected families from various countries, occupations and social positions. It was interesting to view how happy the families appeared, compared to how much stuff they had. One family had only a pan to cook food in. That was their only possession. Yet they were very happy and content with their cooking pan.

Whenever we move and take all of our junk out of our house to try to cram it into a little moving truck, I am reminded of this verse: “… a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”  (Luke 12:15) Isn’t that the truth! The things we save! Why? I know I could get by with so much less. Having many possessions does not always make us happier, and it is often a burden. We should strive to hold onto only what we need, and share the rest with others.

Another favorite verse that helps me get back on track is this:

  “…For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect.” (1 Peter 1: 17-19, NIV)   What an awesome verse. How true!

Here is the story I promised to share from my personal life. In the Spring of 2002, we decided to move to Charlotte, North Carolina. Part of me wanted to move, but I was anxious about the habit my husband, John and I were developing of moving once every year. This would be our 3rd move in just 3 years of marriage. I did not like this pattern. I was scared. I started to worry that we would never settle down, never buy a house and never have stability in our lives.

But I knew that John really wanted to move so, trying to be a good wife, I decided to go to God and to Scripture instead of whining to my husband and insisting on having my way. And God showed me that I was in the wrong. He showed me that my motives were earthly and selfish, particularly from the following verse:

 “What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You want something but don’t get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.” (James 4:1 - 4 NIV)

When I realized that I needed to change my attitude and stop worrying about earthly, temporary things, I had peace. I remembered, as a friend of mine has said, “God didn’t put us on this earth to become homeowners.” I had to realize that it really didn’t matter if we never owned a home. Then seven months later, God took care of that desire of my heart anyway, and my husband bought us a house.

God also reassured me that he was well aware of not just my needs, but my desires and that everything I needed, physically, emotionally, he would provide.

“All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you.” (Psalm 38:9 NIV)  

“Those who seek the LORD lack no good thing.” (Psalm 34: 10b NIV)

“The fear of the LORD leads to life: Then one rests content, untouched by trouble.” (Proverbs 19:23 NIV)

He knows all of our needs and wants, and desires to bring us good things.

The result, now that we have moved is that God has taken care of us. He has provided for our needs in more ways than I had even hoped for. We bought a house sooner than I thought we would, John has a better job, which he enjoys, and we have great friends! But the best part is the what God taught me and the peace it brought into my life by changing my perspective. And this is a lesson that we all have to keep re-learning  throughout life as we grow in knowledge and wisdom and depth of insight. (Phil 1:9-10)

Verses located with the help of Bible Gateway

I follow Dr. Joel Fuhrman’s Eat to Live diet because it makes sense and it works. Dr. Fuhrman is a board certified M.D. with a practice in New Jersey. He uses nutrition to treat his patients. It’s absolutely fantastic. For details, visit his website at www.drfuhrman.com or buy his book Eat To Live.

You won’t want to do it until you read about the scientific research behind it and all the reasons why you NEED to start eating this way.

I’ve been doing this off and on for a year now. Even with cheating, I lost 20 pounds and only gained 5 back. But now that I’ve turned 40, I’m realizing that if I really want to get healthy, I need to stop cheating. So…

I have gone without white sugar and floor for 23 days now, and I can tell a difference. It’s not like I’ve been instantly teleported into a world where I never get tired or sick, but I do feel much healthier and stronger, and get tired less quickly.

My task this week is giving up cheese. It’s not that I can never have cheese, but I eat far too much, to the point of causing digestion problems. I’ve gone several days and already feel less bloaty and crampy.