Went to the Doctor today

and what started out as a horrid day somehow got better. Maybe it’s my Dory that makes it all better. No matter how low I feel, my husband makes me feel better. He helps keep the lows from being 20,000 leagues low. I really couldn’t be more fortunate to have him in my life. Even the bad news I got from the doctor was lessened by him just by being at my side.

This blog even lifts my spirits. Every time I log on, someone has either liked or started to follow my small insignificant contributions. I am humbled and stunned. I like to think humanity is good… kind…and meaningful. While sometimes I get the stunning example of how to not be a human being, many times over I get to see beautiful moments, wonderful, touching, and completely inspiring where humankind is being generous to one another.

It does give me pause though, when I think of one fundamental issue….:

why wait for something tragic to happen for people to start seeing others as just people instead of the person’s nationality, sexual orientation, or race?

We are beautiful. We are unique. We matter to someone. We are someone’s wife, husband, son or daughter. We belong somewhere and are deserving of a happy life, a healthy life. I charge everyone who stops to read my words… everyone who follows me…

Do something nice to or for someone you have never met. Something that makes that person pause for a moment and become humbled by the random act of kindness. That one act may have been inconsequential to you and you may only think of it for a minute or so. But they will remember that act for weeks… months… maybe years. By just that one simple gentle gesture, you may change their world, affect them so deeply… moved them so intimately that it just might lead to a better world.

with that I leave with two links… one to The Humanity Formula, an article by margaretfarid and the other to a series of pictures of humanity.

I shall end this by my favorite quote and by saying this post is for you, my faceless reader.

  • …….what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you, I love you. With all my heart, I love you.





Facing the Music

ImageSo I sit here, after gaining 13 pounds, well aware of all the gained territory lost. I recall each morning I haven’t exercised with excruciating clarity. My legs ache with phantom aches that should but don’t exist because of my inexcusable inability to, for lack of terms…”man” up to my body’s needs. 

I’ve grown complacent… I’ve hidden from what I should be doing. What good is a blog to help inspire me to improvement if I don’t write? What good is having a gym membership if I don’t go! Why buy tennis shoes if I never wear them. I cry at my ineptitude. I cry at the fatigue that plagues me, that makes it so very easy to just sit instead of go.

My husband and I went to a christian bookstore, to buy a family bible for us so when we have children, they have a choice over what they require emotionally. Just because I don’t believe, doesn’t mean my children one day don’t. We found this beautiful white leather tome with gold scroll filigree… we had our last name imprinted on the bottom below the graphic, which took several minutes. As we waited, I walked around the store, looking at the beautiful artwork, the lovely displays. I look at all the different depictions of the christian philosopher/prophet/teacher Jesus and I am stunned at how so many walks of life can see one man, divine or not, and see him in so many different ways. I am stunned because while so many can see Jesus in various colors of ethnicity, temperament, or roles in his short mortal life, too many forget to see humanity with an equal wide expanse of colors of difference. I admit, my lifestyle and world view may be offensive to some but I am wholly honest in my blog… even if it means offending others. That is what struck me while standing there. And while walking through this beautiful store, enjoying the pleasant atmosphere my eyes fall to a section where the memorial plaques are… and then to the one with the “Stairs to Heaven” poem on it:

“If Tears Could Build A Stairway”

If tears could build a stairway, 
and memories a lane.
I would walk right up to Heaven
and bring you back again.

No farewell words were spoken,
No time to say “Goodbye”.
You were gone before I knew it,
and only God knows why.

My heart still aches with sadness,
and secret tears still flow.
What it meant to love you –
No one can ever know.

But now I know you want me
to mourn for you no more;
To remember all the happy times
life still has much in store.

Since you’ll never be forgotten,
I pledge to you today~
A hollowed place within my heart
is where you’ll always stay.


It is by far in my mind right now the most poignant poem to me as I’m still dealing with a derailing sense of depression over my mother’s death. I started to cry there in that store, overwhelmed with the loss of my mother at that moment, more aware than ever that she’s gone forever to me and knowing that for a small… short time I had forgotten about mom passing and thus for those brief days or weeks, I could cope. At that moment, right then, feeling that loss I felt an unimaginable weight, a burden… a guilt because I had forgotten her, because I stopped dreaming of her, stopped crying, started to smile and sleep again. Even now, as I write, I can’t stop the tears from flowing. I am truly in the dark right now. I finally broke my 360 barrier and in the matter of 2 weeks, erased all the work I put it by eating right, and getting more exercise. I’m back to 373 lbs. I need an intervention. 

And then, last night, it hit me.

Since I don’t attend church, I’m going to substitute. My gym will be my church. My husband, my workout buddies, and any personal trainers become my pastor, preacher, monsignor, rabbi. And each workout I complete is my sermon, my confessions to all those unhealthy foods I’ve eaten in the past and bad habits I’ve maintained. And the muscle strains… the aches… they will be my cleansing of the sin that I’ve allowed into my diet, my life. I heard someone once say, … that your body is a temple of god, you shouldn’t be blaspheming it with junk food and bad habits.

While I don’t completely agree with the sentiment, I take a small delight in the concept of going to “church” once again.