Pooh Bear and I went for a nice walk this morning, almost 45 minutes. My neighbor Frank drove it on his bicycle and told me that I walked 2.36 miles. I don't really push myself and if I wanted to train for a half marathon, I'd need to pick up the pace. But for Pooh Bear and me, it's good enough.
We saw some baby hawks in along the way, quite high up and almost ready to fly. They're testing their wings a lot now, and the fuzzy white feathers are falling off, making room for sturdier ones to sustain them in flight. Wow, how scary that must be, to be 30 feet up and know that once you step out, there's no turning back - those wings better work and you better be flapping them like crazy. And how do you land? You wont' know until you try it.
How often life is like the baby hawks. We step out onto the end of the branch, 30 feet up. The momma bird says jump. We do, not knowing what will happen. And we soar. I love to soar but in the process, it doesn't always felt like soaring. Many times it has felt like dive bombing but I never splat. That's the God-factor for me. I never splat. Even though I think I'm gonna crash for sure, He lifts me up and I soar. When I look back, it truly was soaring, even when it didn't 'feel' that way.
Soaring doesn't always feel so good. Sometimes it is quite scary. I am grateful for the life I have, and it all starts with getting on my knees each day, followed by getting out some measuring cups and scales. Why does it work? Why do those wings hold the baby birds up? What would knowing change? Soaring for me is to take the risk to just do it.
I'm way too philosophical for myself today, so I'm gonna go hop in the shower. I pray that we all soar today. It beats the alternatives, eh? Absoulutely.
Love, Gerri
trust God and Buy Broccoli
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
I got a miracle, 15 years ago today
It was just another ordinary day in March, 1993. I left my job at the hotel along International Drive in Orlando, stopping at the 7-11 by Wet and Wild. I bought two frozen dove bars and ate them very quickly - got that little ice cream headache, remember those? Two miles later, Mac Donald's for a Big Mac, large fries and a shake. Home was now only 3 or 4 miles away so I had to eat fast, as usual.
Rounding the last corner to my cul-de-sac, wrappers and bags went under the car seat, with the many other remnants of previous binges. I pictured my handsome husband waiting for me at the door. Our 2.5 children were nestled in bed. He'd have martini's and dinner waiting, we'd dine and make mad, passionate love all night long.
Yeah, right.
Reality? There were no kids. Prince Charming was sitting on the couch watching Star Trek, nursing his hangover from the night before. Soon he'd go back to work as a bartender at a nude bar. Hey, but he came home to me, right? That made it okay. I still needed my fantasy so I attempted to hug him, but he held my wrists so I couldn't get my arms around him. The look of contempt on his face chilled me to my very core. He went back to bed and I to the bathroom where I wiped the chocolate off my face from the Dove bars. There was ketchup on my business suit. I wouldn't have hugged me either.
I donned an old bathrobe, about all that fit me by now. When I hit 248 that January, the doctor told me I needed to lose 100 pounds soon, or the continued gain would keep me from seeing 50 - I was 43 at the time. I tried another fad diet, but quickly slipped into the familiar routine - starve and binge. My new solution was to quit weighing myself - what the heck, I'd be dead in 7 years so I might as well 'enjoy' myself. Right?
I cooked a whole box of pasta, a chicken, ate those and proceeded to the couch with a big can of salty pretzels, to watch a soppy love story on HBO. He got up somewhere in there, left for work and there I was, alone, desperately lonely and depressed. There had to be more to life than this. The drapes were drawn, there was no one to call - it was just me and my best friend ... food. I thought of ways to kill myself. I sobbed and prayed to a god that I didn't believe in, and passed out, much the same as a drunken alcoholic would.
That nightly routine continued, until May 15th. I had reached the point of no return. But something happened – I had a spiritual experience which replaced my diet mentality with hope. I knew I couldn’t do it alone and adopted a spiritual approach to weight loss. It worked!
I lost over 100 pounds in just over a year and the miracle is that it stays off. I am so grateful for my life today, the people who support me and who I also support. It is truly a day to celebrate! Life keeps getting better. I traded abundance in my mouth for abundance in my life. What could be better than that?
Love, Gerri
Trust God and buy broccoli
Rounding the last corner to my cul-de-sac, wrappers and bags went under the car seat, with the many other remnants of previous binges. I pictured my handsome husband waiting for me at the door. Our 2.5 children were nestled in bed. He'd have martini's and dinner waiting, we'd dine and make mad, passionate love all night long.
Yeah, right.
Reality? There were no kids. Prince Charming was sitting on the couch watching Star Trek, nursing his hangover from the night before. Soon he'd go back to work as a bartender at a nude bar. Hey, but he came home to me, right? That made it okay. I still needed my fantasy so I attempted to hug him, but he held my wrists so I couldn't get my arms around him. The look of contempt on his face chilled me to my very core. He went back to bed and I to the bathroom where I wiped the chocolate off my face from the Dove bars. There was ketchup on my business suit. I wouldn't have hugged me either.
I donned an old bathrobe, about all that fit me by now. When I hit 248 that January, the doctor told me I needed to lose 100 pounds soon, or the continued gain would keep me from seeing 50 - I was 43 at the time. I tried another fad diet, but quickly slipped into the familiar routine - starve and binge. My new solution was to quit weighing myself - what the heck, I'd be dead in 7 years so I might as well 'enjoy' myself. Right?
I cooked a whole box of pasta, a chicken, ate those and proceeded to the couch with a big can of salty pretzels, to watch a soppy love story on HBO. He got up somewhere in there, left for work and there I was, alone, desperately lonely and depressed. There had to be more to life than this. The drapes were drawn, there was no one to call - it was just me and my best friend ... food. I thought of ways to kill myself. I sobbed and prayed to a god that I didn't believe in, and passed out, much the same as a drunken alcoholic would.
That nightly routine continued, until May 15th. I had reached the point of no return. But something happened – I had a spiritual experience which replaced my diet mentality with hope. I knew I couldn’t do it alone and adopted a spiritual approach to weight loss. It worked!
I lost over 100 pounds in just over a year and the miracle is that it stays off. I am so grateful for my life today, the people who support me and who I also support. It is truly a day to celebrate! Life keeps getting better. I traded abundance in my mouth for abundance in my life. What could be better than that?
Love, Gerri
Trust God and buy broccoli
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