Not talking about Windex or Mr. Clean.  🙂

My husband and I have been eating differently for a little more than a month now.  And we’ve started exercising.  But the big deal is what we’re doing differently at the grocery stores and in our kitchen.

For 34 days, we’ve eaten

NO white rice
NO white bread
NO added sugar
NO sugar substitues (‘cept for some gum, but working on quitting that!)
NO high fructose corn syrup
NO msg (‘cept for by accident once)
MOSTLY gluten-free
SOME potatoes of color (no white!  those are bad!)
FEW GMO products
LOTS of fresh veggies & fruits
HANDFULLS of cashews & other nuts
ONLY grass-fed beef (2 times per week or less)
ONLY free-roaming chickens

See what we’ve been eating?

And we’ve only drank WATER and an occasional coffee or hot tea with honey.  NO soda or sweet tea.

We have “splurged” just a couple of times, but not enough to knock us off the positive track to imprived health.  The vegetable pizza was good, and the donut was okay.  Not nearly as impressive as these two things tasted before when we were hopped up on sugar 24/7.

“Results so far”, you’re wondering?  Aside from more energy, better sleep and less pain in our knees and ankles, we have both lost weight.  What a great side effect of eating healthier!  Because I’m telling you, friend, we eat A LOT, and I feel like we are “feeding” all the time!  Kevin has had an amazing start, with more than 30 pounds lost in this first month!  He was just over 300 pounds on Dec. 28th, and now weighs in around 271.  Seriously!  The speed at which he is losing weight has slowed, of course, but getting all of the processed, inflamatory-causing foods and chemicals out of our bodies gave each of us immediate weight loss results pretty quickly in the first 2 weeks.  My weight loss is not nearly as impressive, but I have gone from 204 pounds to 192 pounds. That’s still a dozen pounds less than I’ve been carrying for too many years.  And more than the number tells, the exercise is already starting to define and tone muscles that I haven’t seen in more than a decade!

This is a fun and exciting journey we’re on to better health!   Thanks for sharing in it with us and encouraging us along the way!

Exer-cise.

We introduced the E word into our world this week.  Don’t I sound happy?  Wait for the endorphins to catch up with me…

“We started exercisin’, y’all!”

Better?

Okay.

A friend of ours, David, who has had his own lifestyle transformation over the last year (and that equals body transformation, too) challeneged us to get off our butts and make some changes this year.  When I say “us”, I don’t mean me and Kevin singled out.  He issued a blanket challenege to anyone who wanted to know how he has such impressive success in adopting a healthier eating/exercising lifestyle.  And when I say “get off our butts”, I might be using words he didn’t specifically say, but I think he’d agree to the general idea.   He shared with Kev and I what has worked for him, and that includes embracing body movement.  We were made to move, you know.  And because 1) I don’t like to not accept a challenge and 2) I don’t like to not succeed and 3) this challenge comes with a free 2-week membership to a gym…..why not!?

It’s been only 3 days of our bodies on exercise.  I wish I could use inspiring, happy words to describe the experience so far.   I’m glad we’re doing it.  And we are committed to sticking with exercise as a part of our new living lifestyle.  But it’s hard, guys. I mean, I’m only in the baby steps of exercise.  Teeny-tiny.  Like today, I rode the recumbent cycle for 38 minutes, but that wasn’t all at one time.  I did 18 minutes.  And took a break.  Then I did 13 minutes.  And took a break.  And I ended with 7 minutes.  My face was so red and hot and – me being transparent here – I was sweating.  Gasp!  My heartrate hit 150 as I was struggling to hold at 11.4 miles per hour, and I was certain people on the other side of the gym could hear my heartbeat.  I also did 30 tummy crunches on some machine that I’m not afraid of.  Five at a time.  In-between riding that low-rider bike.  This is not easy.

Yesterday, after I’d been cycling for about 12 minutes, I began having a quite interesting debate in my head.  Old Sherry was saying, “you know, you can just get off this thing, hop in your car and go read a book for 1/2 an hour while you wait for your son to get out of school”.  New Sherry was saying, “that sounds good!”.  She was being weak, which is quite uncharacteristic for New Sherry. About that time, my friend David walked into the gym.  You know what Old Sherry said?  Nothing.  Zip.  She shut her mouth and I didn’t hear from her again the whole day.  What an encouragement it was when David walked in.  He was just there to do his thing, and had no idea he’d just silenced negotiations in my head.  So I didn’t quit and made it through the entire planned work out yesterday.  Now today was a different story.  David was already there when I walked in, so Old Sherry had to keep quiet the entire time while New Sherry peddled it out for 38 minutes.  It was a long, long, 38 minutes.  Conversation sure does make the time go by faster.  I definitely need to get some headphone things to plug into the on-cycle t.v.

Here’s what I rest on today –

Exercise is tough.  I hope to have more to add to that in a week or so, but right now, as I feel my…my…crap.  What are those things?  They must be muscles.  Put your thumbs under your armpits, as if you’re going to do The Chicken Dance.  Hold it right there.  Move your thumbs slightly forward, like an inch and a half.  THOSE!  What are those things?  Well, mine hurt.  I’m sure as a result of using the stomach crunching machine thing improperly, but none-the-less, they are yelling at me!  Anyhow, I hope that I can bring the E word some positive reviews in a week or so.  Will you pray for me?  Join me in asking God to motivate me to continue in this journey toward a healthier lifestyle.

1 – Knee injections are good.  No doubt the knowledge that brought these things into our medical forefront has to be directly from God.  I had disabling pain in my most osteoarthritic knee on Monday.  Today, I could dance a jig.  Not worrying about how long it will last, but instead, revelling in the wonder of being pain-free.  It has been a long time.

2 – Celebration-of-Life funerals are the bomb.  I can hear my friend, Jeddie, saying that.  She died earlier this week, after a short, courageous meeting with cancer.  I rarely attend visitations.  Or funerals.  Or graveside burials.  And if there’s an open casket, I tend to not want to look in those.  But because of who my friend Jeddie was to me and so many – a continual wealth of wisdom and spunk – and a perpetual educator – I coudn’t not go to the visitation, funeral, graveside.  As crazy as it might sound, I could hear Jeddie’s voice, with that “you are kidding me” inflection, saying, “Oh, darlin’ – you oughta go to mine and then decide what you think”.  So I did.  And when I saw from a distance that there was an open casket at visitation, I couldn’t not peek in to see my friend.  Of course, she wasn’t there, only her earth’s case.  The thing that held her whilst here.  The thing that allowed us to embrace each other, share smiles, exchange comforting nods.  I couldn’t cry.  And I couldn’t help but notice how peaceful her body was at rest, and how good blue looked on her.  Why didn’t I notice that before, when she was in her case?  I guess I was probably distracted by the sparkle in her eye, as any encounter was always filled with the love of the Holy Spirit.  She was so captivating, with her passion for Jesus and love for His people.  Jeddie’s funeral was simple, poignant, and filled more with laughter than tears.  Her family was strong.  Loving.  Welcoming to all of us who came to celebrate her life.  Mrs. Jeddie always inspired me to dig deeper into His word and to value every moment of life as the gift that it is.  She always was teaching me about the tireless, unconditional love Jesus has for me.  For his people.  And even in her death, Mrs. Jeddie has taught me, still, how to celebrate life, through the recollection of hers, as shared by her family and friends.  I’m so thankful for Mrs. Jeddie.  And it tickles me to no end to know that I will see her again!

3 – God’s Grace is a gift to be shared.  In scripture, His word says, “but to each one of us grace has been given as Christ apportioned it” (Eph 4:7).  As sinful people, we don’t deserve God’s grace, but He lavishly gives this to us anyhow.  Grace.  Pardon.  Forgiveness.  I remember hearing of a young man who was killed.  Murdered.  And a while later, the news people shared with the world how the mother of the young man who was killed had befriended the murderer.  She had met with him and become friends with him.  She prayed for him.  Showed him nothing short of kindness.  And because of her willingness to show this man grace and mercy, his life was forever changed.  The murderer came to know Jesus Christ through the friendship of the murdered man’s mother.  Grace.  Grace.  It’s enough.  Grace says, “I don’t care what you did to me.  Jesus loves you, and so, I love you, too.”  Grace overlooks what is ill-intentioned, and instead, loves.  In spite of, loves.  I know God’s grace.  And I, the undeserving, am charged to share His grace.  This week, I’ve experienced His blessings of being able to offer grace.  And I’ve experienced His blessings of being offered grace.  My friend, Renea, is a daily reminder of the beauty of His grace.  I have offered grace to her, and she to me, and our lives are both forever changed.  If  there is anyone in your life who has wronged you or hurt you somehow, please forgive them.  And if there is anyone in your life who you have wronged or hurt somehow, please ask for their forgiveness.  I cannot put into words how incredibly blessed you’ll be for this obedience — God calls us to offer the very gift of grace we’ve been given to others.  Won’t you put aside your pride, fears, guilt and doubt and do that today?

In summary, stop being a whimp, and get that shot of steroid in your knee – it’s so worth it!  Know where you’re headed after this life ends.  Have a Celebration Of Life, not a funeral.  Jesus is The Way, The Truth and The Life.  Invite Him into your heart and be certain those left behind will be celebrating your ‘home going’ when you die.  And finally, forgive.  Isn’t it time?  Christ carried the weight of the world on that cross.  Won’t you put down your stones and ask for forgiveness, too?

Fuel the body, don’t entertain it.

That’s what I’m learning.
In a nutshell.
Literally.
🙂

When I was little, I saw something or heard something that lead me to believe that 3 AM was “the hour of death”.  I don’t remember if someone mentioned it in a conversation I overheard, or if it was talked about in the movie “Psycho” (which I saw parts of when I was way too young), but somehow that statement became a frightening truth of my overactive imagination.  We’re talking from age 6 or so on.  Seriously!  Because of that “truth” I wouldn’t dare speak of but kept hidden just below the surface of every evening, I didn’t sleep well.  Not solidly, and surely not peacefully.  I couldn’t have told you what exactly was supposed to happen in the “hour of death”, but I knew it couldn’t be anything good.

I can remember in my elementary school days asking to sleep in the spare bedroom.  There was a double bed in there, and room enough for my 4 foot tall Winnie the Pooh to sleep with me.  My parents thought that was all cute and stuff.  The reality was, at that young age, I recognized my fear and was somehow able to treat the symptoms of my poor sleeping by sharing the bed with my “protective” giant stuffed animal.  In this spare bedroom, we had little turtle figurines made out of painted stones or something, each modeled to reflect an activity.  Like there was “Golfer Turtle”, who had a little golf club and little golf beenie hat and a little golf ball.  There was also “Baseball Turtle”, who has a little bat, and baseball, and baseball hat.  There were probably 5 or 6 different ones in all.  They were all positioned as if they were freeze-framed in action.  “Golfer Turtle” was mid-swing.  “Baseball Turtle” was twisted at the waist, having just hit a home run, I’m sure.  After the house was quiet, and Winnie the Pooh and I were all tucked under the covers, those turtles came alive, of this I am certain!  Okay, so maybe that WAS my over active imagination, but it didn’t change the fact that I just knew odd things happened around the 3 am hour.

When I was younger I also had heard that there are good and bad in everyone, and in everything.  This is probably thanks to some fire and brimstone preaching I half heard when I was stretched out across the 8th row pew, coloring, while Preacher Baumgardner was shouting it from the pulpit.  I don’t know what else he said, but I held onto that whole “good and bad” thing.  When I’d get in my bed at night, I imagined that there was a good and bad side to my mattress.  Of course, the side I was sleeping on was the good side.  That wasn’t enough, though.  I didn’t want any part of that bad side, so I woud roll over onto my side and scootch all the way to the edge of the mattress, careful not to let my toes or any other body part reach out over the protective boundary of the mattress edge.  I didn’t want my body parts to be burned off if my mattress was accidentally launched into space.  But that’s a whole other story.  Ha!  To this day, not because I believe in that whole good-bad side of the bed thing, I sleep on the very edge of the matress.  I do let my toes venture off the edge now, though.  I never told my husband he sleeps on the bad side.   I wonder if he knows?  🙂

As I aged into a tennager, my evenings rotated between my twin bed bedroom and my double bed spare bedroom.  My 3 am fear never lessened.  I can recall being a senior in high school and still waking up in the middle of the night (what was actually early early morning).  I could see my mother’s bedroom from the spare bedroom, so I tended to sleep in there more often, even though I gave up the protection of Winnie the Pooh by this point.  The stupid recreational turtles still lived in there, but I just learned to let them have their fun and paid them no attention.  It never failed, though.  Close to 3 am, my eyes would pop open – my body stilly positioned on the edge of the mattress – cacooned in my bedcovers all the way over my ears, with only the bridge of my nose and eyes exposed.  I would begin to psych myself up…getting ready for the mad, serious dash across the hallway where I could dive to safety beside my momma in her bed.

After I married, I began to finally get some good sleep.  As long as my husband was in the bed beside me, I felt safe.  I still slept on the edge of the bed and I tended to sleep with the covers cacooned around me more often than not, but I found myself sleeping more solidly…before 3am and after 3am.  I noticed that I was waking 3-4 times a week at exactly the 3 am hour.  Most of the times I wouldn’t move.  I’d stay, paralized, beneath my covers.  Eventually my angst would exhaust me and I’d drift off.  Whenever my husband wasn’t home, however, that was a different story.  I would clean the house, and clean the house, and start art projects, and clean the house some more,  way into the night, long after the kids were asleep.  I would exhaust myself so that by 4 or 5 am, I could get some rest.  It had to be after the 3 am hour, though.

By 2006, I began pacing myself routinely and consistently in scripture, as I desired to walk more closely with my Savior.  As my relationship with Christ grew, so did my understanding of what it means to be saved and covered by the blood of Jesus Christ.  I accepted the Lord in the early 90’s and in a public profession of my faith, I was Baptised by emersion at my church.  It took me several years beyond that moment, however, to begin to really understand the depth and grandure of what it meant to be a child of God.  So by 2006, I was so hungrily studying God’s word and felt drawn especially to the scriptures that speak of protection from evil.  You know – the bad I had heard about when I was a little girl.  One night, with my husband snoring contentedly beside me, at the 3 am hour, my eyes popped open.  I didn’t move.  I hardlly breathed.  The air around the little bit of face I had exposed was so thick, and suffocating.  And pitch dark.  I felt as if the heaviness was a live presence.  A being.  I had these feelings often when I found myself awake and waiting for my worry-induced exhaustion to lead me to the safety of sleep.  This one particular night, though, I felt bold and  I felt confident.  Not bold and confident enough to lower the covers from my face, but enough to speak out loud, “In the name of My Father, Jesus Christ, I rebuke you.  You cannot have what is not yours.  I belong to Him.”  And just like that, the air was light and it felt as if something had exited my presence.  And I slept.

Since then, I have slept like a baby!  On rare occasions when I have been woken in the middle of the night, I simply roll back over and finish my restfuls slumber.  Did you hear that?  ROLL BACK OVER!  That’s right!  Since that night, I’m not held prisoner on the edge of my mattress.  I no longer cacoon.  Man, is there freedom in kicking the covers off, or sleeping with one leg out of the covers!  Who knew!?  Matters not if my husband is home or away in the evenings, my sleep is not affected.

I’ve wondered often if there are other people out there who have struggled with being unable to really rest due to some fear they privately hold onto.

What I do know now is that God took the fear of a six-year old that was some 30 years old, and got rid of it.  He can do that with all of our fears, our struggles, or worries, if we are willing to just give it to Him.  Totally hand it over to Him.  In an instant, He can heal.