This Ain't Yo Mama's Jane Fonda Workout Tape

Shannon, who used to be my best friend but is now dead to me, invited me to a workout class she goes to 3 mornings a week. Our other bestie, Kara, also goes to this class and then goes and teaches a body shaping class afterwards (because she's sick that way). The class is called Boot Camp. And its at 5:30. In the morning.

The course description is "a high intensity, military style workout class. It will incorporate cardiovascular & strength training. The class routine will vary from obstacle courses to circuit training." What they meant to say is, "This is a high intensity, military style workout class and it may kill you and your unborn grandchildren."

The instructor is this woman who is like the love child of GI Jane and Hannibel Lecter. She's pure evil and at one point in the class I thought she had sprouted horns; it turns out I was only hallucinating from the lack of oxygen but seriously, horns would be appropriate for this she-devil, drill sergeant, our-airplane-crashed-in-the-Andes-and-we're-going-to-eat-each other woman.

Surprisingly though, she does have a heart. For example, after running a million laps and then "cooling down" by doing wall squats she came and let me know she saw me in my pain on my very first day and she sat on my lap. Now I know when I think of the word "lap" I think of library books and kittens and a warm fire but I want you to know when I say "she sat on my lap" I mean the lap that was my legs that were struggling to hold me up as I sat in an imaginary chair and the only warm fire was the one that was raging in my lungs and butt.

Later in the class we "skipped" around the track but it wasn't skipping like sweet-hopscotch-and-ice cream-cones skipping it was like Jack and Jill-are-coming-down-off-heroine-and-are chasing-you-because-they-heard-you-have-a-dollar-in-your-pocket skipping. It was while I was running from meth addicted Jack and Jill skipping that I started cussing. In my head. Under my breath. Cussing like I have never cussed before. Words I didn't know I knew. Cussing to dull the pain. Cussing. And then the cuss words didn't seem quite adequate. And I began creating my own guttural, asphyxiated, hateful language that finally expressed the reaction my body was having to this concentration camp of a workout.

I'd like to interject a little something about myself at this point--it is true, at this point in time of my life I am a "little" out of shape and yes, it is true, the only exercise I have been getting lately is walking to the fridge but dude, this was too much. Too much. It was too much. I am not even kidding you when I tell you that at one point I started crying. I.Started.Crying. The actual exercise we were doing is fuzzy in my memory but I know it had something to do with weights and push ups and me not being able to get up off the floor after 4 of them and all of a sudden my eyes just welled up with tears and Kara turned around to see if I had died and I flipped her off.

I think I was embarrassed because I really didn't think I would be able to finish the class and I kept thinking about how it would really suck to have to crawl out on my hands and knees but then I just dug deep, like deeper than I even had to dig when VAGINALLY BIRTHING MY CHILDREN and screwed the weights, did the push ups on the wall and sucked it up. It was at that very moment I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would come back to this God-forsaken class on Wednesday and get my ass kicked every which way to Sunday again.

At the end of the 50 minutes I had made it. Done it. Finished the class without collapsing. It wasn't pretty but I did it. I stood with Shannon, red faced, dizzy and sweating, talking with Tina the instructor (who turns out is a pretty cool lady when she isn't making Jillian Michaels look like Mother Theresa) when I started to feel quizzy. I must have gone a little pale because voices started shouting directions to the bathroom while I looked around panicky. I ran to the bathroom, bending over the toilet just in time before I projectile vomited. I stood up and wiped my face, thinking I couldn't believe I had just thrown up when I threw up again. I started to weakly laugh when I threw up again. 3 times total.

Shannon and Kara have already warned me that Wednesday nor Friday will not be any easier and that in fact the class is just pure torture all the time. I don't even have illusions of grandeur that I will go on Wednesday and do anything but be completely dominated but I am hoping that I can, once again, hold the vomit off until class is over.

Here's to aiming high.

Today I Even Surprised Myself

I shock others regularly. Pretty much daily. And every few minutes on Thursdays while at Bible Study but today I even surprised myself. I was putting the kids in the car, buckling them in their (car)seats and I thought to myself, "I can't wait until they are old enough to buckle themselves in".

And just as soon as I thought it I gasped and "took it back". With one lazy thought I wished away several years of learning, firsts, snuggles and laughs. If I would have had a magic wishbone in front of me I would have sacrificed so much because I don't like the inconvenience of having to leave a few minutes early so that I have time to buckle both of my kiddos in. All of a sudden they would be 5 and 7 and who knows the joys I would have missed out on and I would have stood standing there, looking at them wistfully, wishing I could "take it back".

One thing I always do after I snap their buckles is kiss them. Its my little thing and no matter how annoyed I am with their putzing around they can always count on me smacking their little lips with mine before I shut their doors--why would I want to hurry those years up? I don't know...

I did get to wondering though, how much of my day is spent "wishing" instead of living? If I'm being honest, I think its a pretty substantial amount.

I look in the mirror and wish I was prettier or smaller or younger. I look at my house and wish I was more organized. I look at my husband and wish he was more romantic. I think about my Mom and wish she lived closer. I think about Ames and wish she was my neighbor. I think about Shannon and wish she still worked with Maryanne and me. I look at my ministry at Hearts and wish I had more time. I look at my time and wish I was better at managing it. I look at my checkbook and wish it had more in it. I wish, I wish, I wish.

Instead of living in the moment, enjoying the body I have, the home I live in, the life I have I tend to think ahead (or sometimes I think back).

This just came to me today so I haven't had any time to pray about it and ask God to show me some things in Scripture about it but I'm wondering what you do to keep yourself grounded in today? In the moment?

Make Someone's Day or Get Sick & Watch a Movie

Today Al came out of his office and told me he wanted to get rich off my blog. He said he is going to start looking for "investors" and then get my writings published. We went off on a tangent about it but in the end he said how much he enjoyed reading it. It was a great compliment and made my day.

It got me thinking, if a little bit of praise can make my day, what can a little bit of praise from me do for Hot Jeff? My Besties? My co-workers? My neighbors? The lady at the bank? The checker at Safeway?

From Day One of having babies we're told how important it is to praise and compliment them so we do it all the time and most of our kids are going to grow up with super inflated egos healthy self images but what if we did this with people we came in contact with all day long?

It takes no effort at all to tell someone you like their hair or that's a cute shirt or your yard looks nice or I think you're a great mom, friend, sister, hair dresser. We all need a pat on the back; we all like to be told that someone else thinks we're funny or pretty or smart or talented, right?

Hot Jeff can say whatever he wants but I know he likes being called "Hot Jeff".

On an unrelated note, sort of, I saw Salon Sara on Monday and Slutty Vixen is back baby! If you call my house and I don't answer its probably because I'm out hitting on your husband. Oh yeah, I've got the super dark tresses going and am loving it!

Who LOVES Anne of Green Gables? Don't you love it when Anne asks Diana for a lock of her "black tresses" and Diana replies, "I don't have any black dresses". Oh my I love that movie. I can't wait for Emily to get a little bit older and get a bad case of the flu so we can sit on the couch all weekend long and watch all 8 hours of Green Gables and Avonlea. Seriously, best.movies.ever. The other great sick-on-the-couch-sick-for-3-days is Lonesome Dove.

What movie do you always watch when you're sick? Who are you going to compliment today?

For the Haters

You know I get all the smack talk about Facebook. I understand the criticism, I get it, I really do. Even I hate Facebook sometimes; I've said to much and been misunderstood. I've said just enough and been blasted. I've said things I shouldn't have said and would have never said to someone's face and just when I think I'm never going to make another Facebook mistake I go and make another one. I get it.

But I just gotta say, for all the haters, Facebook just may have been instrumental in saving little Maggie's life this week. If prayer releases power from heaven then 100 people praying is better than 10 and 1000 people praying is better than 1000. Within hours of Maggie's birth and subsequent intubation and other life saving measures, people were praying. They were leaving comments and posting status updates and pretty soon 20 people turned into 200 and 200 turned to 2000 and now after 4 days of having her own blog up, Maggie's blog has had over 4000 visitors. That is amazing.

In Maggie's situation, where time was critical and she would be progressing one minute and at Heaven's door the next, you can bet that the prayers of the people who were literally stalking Maryanne's Facebook page released power from Heaven.

I know I'm not going to change anyone's mind about Facebook because of this one blog post and I'm not planning on doing a series of why Facebook is great or is evil. I simply wanted to write, for all the haters, that Facebook can be pretty awesome when it comes to gettin' the word out.

Dear Kind Father,

It is so easy to call You good tonight. It is so easy to praise You. For tonight, in a hospital 50 miles North of me, my dear friend is holding her baby for the first time in 4 days. For the first time in 94 hours wee Maggie is being held. She is warm. She is hearing her Mama's heart beat. She is feeling the warmth of her Daddy's chest. It is easy to call You good tonight.

You, however, are always good. You are always kind. You are always sovereign. And while I don't understand Your ways and I question Your timing, I know You are always good. You are always kind. Your timing is always perfect.

The image of a limp baby being attended to by a team of doctors will never leave me. As I stood with a petrified Auntie Jana, peaking through a crack in a curtain, we declared Your Presence in that room. As I sat holding my precious friend, whispering Your promises to her I felt Your hand on her; loving her, infusing strength in to her, filling her with hope and peace. A peace that passes understanding. Your Word is true and You never go against Your Word. You are always good. You are always kind.

Tomorrow I will get to hold baby Maggie in my own arms. I will tell her how Samuel & Emily have prayed and prayed for her and can't wait to meet her. I will tell her how Uncle Jeff has stayed awake at night praying for her and her Mommy & Daddy. I will tell her that from the moment I found out she was growing in her Mama's belly to this very moment in time I have loved her. I will tell her (with a giggle in my voice) that I'm the one who sang the "Sound of Music" soundtrack to her when she had the hiccups and that it is oh so very good to finally meet her. I will tell her that the God that her Mommy, Daddy, Grammy & Grandpa love and serve is merciful. I will tell her that He is always good and that He is always kind.

Thank You Kind Father for answering our prayers the way we wanted them answered. I know it doesn't always work that way and I trust You when that happens, but tonight, thank You. With more gratitude than I can express, thank You.

Amen.