Running for my Life

Have you heard about the Oxygen Mask Project? It was started by a few special needs moms applying the airplane oxygen mask principle to their daily lives and attempting to encourage other parents to do the same. You know the one, that you have to put your own mask on before you can help your children or anyone else with you. In order to properly care for our families, we have to care for our selves first. Our spiritual and physical well being isn't something to be pushed aside for everyone around us, but something we should tend to carefully and purposefully.

Those of you who know me well, know that I'm extremely undisciplined and OCD at the same time. Not a good combination for mental and physical health. I have two speeds, "I'll get to it when I get to it" and "Oh, NO, they'll be here in 10 minutes I have to wash the windows!" I've figured out if I could just find that happy medium between the two speeds, my life would be much less hectic. How do you do that? By adding one discipline at a time until it's a habit and building on those disciplines until you have a good routine. Well, that's what I've been told. I'll let you know how all that goes when I reach that level of enlightenment. In the mean time, I'm making an attempt to apply the oxygen mask principle in my life and acting on a strong new conviction for maintaining my physical health.

I'm quite ashamed lately at just how out of shape I let myself get. Now, you wouldn't have really known I was unhealthy from the outside. I'm one of those naturally skinny people that other people like to hate. It's genetic. My mom was always thin. Her sister was always thin. My brothers are skinny. Most of my cousins on my mom's side are super skinny. My doctor husband swears I have some kind of thyroid problem, but has yet to find any evidence of that besides a few incidental symptoms and the fact that I can pretty much eat whatever I want and not be as big as a house. Here's the thing though. You don't have to look fat to be UNhealthy, and you don't have to look skinny to BE healthy. It's not about the outside. It's about the inside. Sound familiar? Jesus had something to say about the power of the mind and the inner man. In God's eyes, lust is equal with adultery, rage is equal with murder, etc. He chastised the religious elite of his day for washing the outside of the cup and ignoring the filth on the inside. I've been quite surprised at the parallels between physical fitness and spiritual fitness lately. More on that in a bit.

I had deteriorated into weak and helpless or, as I like to call it, skinny fat. You hear people say all the time that you never know how valuable your health is until you lose it. Well, I want to cherish that gift. I want to be real physically and spiritually. I want to know that I will be around in my best condition to care for my children into their adulthood, specifically Jackson, should that take more than the usual 18 years. I don't want to just LOOK healthy because I'm skinny. I want to BE healthy, inside and out. So, putting on my oxygen mask and taking care of my own physical well being, I started making some changes.

My husband bought me a treadmill (I would say he bought US a treadmill, but he's only used it twice), and I got started. I cut out ALL sugar from my diet (except for vitamin water and protein bars when I ran), and began a walk-a-little, run-a-little beginner's program. It was awesome! I felt so productive and cool, and I was doing really well until I got to the part where the running time started exceeding the walking time. That's when the trouble started. My shins started to hurt. I pushed through and kept up with the program. Three times a week, 30 minutes a session. Then the pain got so bad I could hardly walk after. My husband said it was probably just the muscles rather than shin splints or anything serious. They were just not used to all the activity. I was a little offended at the idea, but I used it as an excuse to buy new shoes and pushed through (new shoes make everything better). He was right. My legs were just that weak. Then my knees started hurting the same kind of way, nearly unbearable, even on my off days. At this point, my mental fortitude started to crumble. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this. Maybe I should find something else to do, something easier." Somehow I kept pushing through. I just wasn't ready to give up yet. I wasn't ready to say I had failed, AGAIN, at yet another thing. I got up to 2 miles a session only walking to warm up and cool down (bringing the total mileage to 3 miles a session). Then I got bored. What am I supposed to do for 30 minutes three times a week while my body is screaming at me to stop this craziness and go have some pie? I figured out I could read while I ran, awesome! Then I decided I would have to buy all large print books for that because it was just too hard to read while I was bouncing up and down. Maybe my eye sight is failing in my old age. Then I figured out how to run while surfing pinterest or watching tv. That helped for a little while, but I just couldn't get used to the new format. Television and internet are activities best enjoyed while sitting on the couch or comfy desk chair, preferably eating a yummy snack. Of course I tried music, audio books and sermons, but I just couldn't figure out how to keep my mind focused while my body did what I told it to do. Running outside hasn't worked out since the only times I can really do that is before my husband leaves for work or later when everyone is settled at night, and my paranoid husband thinks someone is going to kidnap me if I do that. So, the treadmill is it for me.

I thought this was supposed to be fun. People run for fun, right? For that runners high? Things are harder when you can't agree with yourself. I started slowing down. Struggling with every session. I had been doing yoga longer than I had been running, and I started to think maybe that was more my speed. I had added strength training to my routine, and was enjoying the fruits of that labor. (My arms look awesome!) I tried jumping rope. Oh my! That's not a good idea for a woman who has had three kids and is extremely out of shape. I will spare you the details, but I will say my twelve year old self would have been rolling on the ground busting a gut laughing at my 29+ year old self attempting that routine. I kind of wish I had a camera rolling. I could have won some kind of reality show prize, seriously! Somehow, I kept running, and somewhere in the middle of all this, my knees stopped hurting. Yay! I then started struggling with my left hip, complications from an injury during my first pregnancy. Are you kidding me? Really? Is the pain just going to creep up my body one joint group at a time? What is going on?

My new diet wasn't cutting it, either. I NEEDED sugar! I had no energy, and was really struggling by the end of the day. Severe fatigue and headache by about 6pm. If sugar is a no-no, then what am I supposed to eat to reach the caloric intake I need to maintain my weight while increasing my activity? I give up. Give me CANDY! No, wait. Maybe I can balance this out. So, we're back to my original thought process in figuring out Jackson's diet. Sugar is NOT the enemy, especially with moderation and proper portioning. No junk does not necessarily mean no sugar. Then I pulled a muscle, not while I was running actually. That was all I needed to just completely melt down. I'm trying SO hard, and I'm eating right while my husband enjoys his ice cream and junk food and has somehow lost 12 pounds just mowing the grass and not eating fast food. It's not fair. Now what am I supposed to do?

This is when God hit me with more parallels between the physical and spiritual realness I was after.

1. Making the inside of my body match the outside is going to take time, and it's going to hurt, apparently a LOT.
Parallel: Making the life I'm living a reflection of my heart's condition rather than the screen I use to keep everyone from seeing the real condition of my heart is going to take time, and it's going to hurt, probably a LOT more than all this healthy stuff is going to hurt my body.

2. I'm not an athletic person. I've never been an athletic person. My body is going to go through a period of shock as I try to add these new activities in my life, especially having waited SO late in my life to begin this new lifestyle.
Parallel: I'm not a disciplined person. I've never been a disciplined person. My heart is going to go through a period of shock as I try to add new spiritual disciplines in my life, especially having waited SO long to begin this new lifestyle.

That doesn't mean it isn't worth it.

Tomorrow I plan to run again for the first time in nearly four weeks. Hopefully, this muscle has healed and I can get back into my original routine, and hopefully, I can use my future running experiences to fuel more spiritual discovery.

One of my favorite quotes:

"You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." - C.S. Lewis

I want to push my body to it's limits. I want to experience how health feels when you earn it. I want to push my spirit to it's limits as well. I want to remove the weights and hindrances that hold me back from experiencing abundant life, the kind earned for me on Calvary. I can't help but feel like they're intertwined right now, my physical health and my spiritual health. So, I feel like I'm running for my life. It would be nice if I could figure out a way to make running spiritual WHILE I'm doing it, but so far the only prayers I can get out sound like "Oh, God, it hurts. Help me." Things like that. We'll see. The thing I need to push for right now is perseverance, something I've lacked my whole life. Gotta stick it out, and see where I am when this race is over.

Note: I wrote this post last night, but somehow it didn't post before I signed out. So, I'll just go ahead and tell you that my run this morning was awesome! It did start hurting again, the pulled muscle. More of a tightness than a pain. So, I quit at a mile and a half, but it felt SO good! That plus my strength training, and I'm feeling like I can conquer the world again. To quote a little fish I have always felt a strong connection with, "just keep swimming, just keep swimming." Or, in my case, just keep running. The race isn't over until you meet your Savior face to face; so, just keep going.

That's What God Sounds Like

It was a typical start to the weekend in our house. Kids in bed. I'm trying to catch up on some computer work (i.e. Facebook, Pinterest and Blogger) when my husband hands me a letter from Georgia DHR saying, "this is going to ruin your night." It was a notice of termination regarding Jackson's Medicaid.

Let me pause here and share what exactly I'm talking about. Back when all this was new to us and we didn't know we had options, we accrued a pretty substantial amount of debt in medical and therapy expenses. The doctors, teachers, psychologists and therapists all told us Jackson needed these services to function, that without them, he wouldn't have a chance of developing properly and the developmental gap between where he was and where he should be would continue to widen. However, these services are expensive. We kept going, paying what we could when we could, but it was getting out of control. One of Jackson's therapists invited me to a parent night out where a Medicaid expert would be speaking about the Katie Becket Deeming Waiver. This is a special waiver for children with disabilities requiring extensive therapy. It is based on the diagnosis and prognosis of the child not the income of the family. Jackson's diagnosis qualified him for that program. It was a crazy set of hoops we had to jump through, but without this program, Jackson would not have received the services he needed to achieve what he has achieved over the past 4 years. He would certainly be in a very different place. If you are a Georgia family with a child on the spectrum, and you haven't heard about the program, you should check it out (and make sure you read all the way to the end). Now back to my story....

When I read the line "NOTICE OF TERMINATION" and then "YOU DID NOT GIVE US THE INFORMATION WE REQUESTED," my physical response was immediate. My heart started racing. I could feel the blood pumping through my temple. I felt hot and flushed at the same time. What?!?!? I'm telling you, if I didn't have Jesus, I'm afraid someone would have died. I immediately called the number on the form thinking I would leave a message. Good call, Rach, you're so clear headed and rational right now, you'll leave an awesome message. It's busy....Now, that's not uncommon. Back in my rational mind, the one I jumped out of for a moment, I knew DFCS doesn't have a voice mail. (Could you imagine having that job? No, thank you!) I've called them dozens of times over the past year trying to get the review paperwork we needed. See, we never got our review packet last year. Actually, we received absolutely nothing from them last year. I called over and over and got different answers from different people. No one could tell me his case worker. They would often refer me to another county's office, which would often end with the busy signal as well. I eventually got someone at the state office who told me, "we'll get to the bottom of this," and heard nothing. I've heard over and over again how overwhelmed they are at DFCS. I've heard over and over, just give them time, they'll get to you. So, we waited and waited, eventually receiving this termination notice and leading me to the brink of a total nervous system collapse....I can't get them on the phone? Fine, then I'll get them by email. Off to the website. There isn't an email account for our county's DFCS office. (Something else I knew in the back of my mind. Who would want that job either?) Awesome. Well, then I'll go above them. I emailed every commissioner, representative, office clerk I could think of. I must have sent out dozens of emails all stating our situation and how horribly my son's review was handled. I dropped names and dates for when I had talked to them and what they had said. I even mentioned my husband and his active role in our county's child advocacy programs. I sat at my computer for a long while executing vengeance on my keyboard until I rather anticlimactically went to bed. Nervous and unsettled, Monday couldn't come fast enough.

Kids fed. Everyone showered and dressed for the inevitable trip down to DFCS. I thought I would try it one more time by phone. First try, busy. Second try, rings indefinitely. Third try, busy. Fourth try, hallelujah someone picks up and says, "Barbara?" I quickly seized the opportunity before she could back track and said, "no, but I need to speak to someone regarding a termination notice." "Sure, hold on." Great, now I'm on hold. Someone gets on. I give her my information. I'm given another number to call, in another county. When I call this number, I get a very frustrated woman explaining to me that my county sent over all review cases between last July and this March to her county. Many were lost in the transfer either to them or from them, and while her name was on our case, she had nothing to do with it. And, even better than that, she couldn't help me. I would likely have to reapply, through my county's office. So, I take a deep breath, vent on Facebook and load everyone up in the car. Did I mention that it's raining. Wonderful.

Not sure what to expect, nervous and sick to my stomach, I wait in line. My boys settle into seats with their DS's while my daughter happily makes friends with everyone in line. The closer I got to the window the more impressed I was with how the woman working the window was handling everyone in line. She had a calming smile and a genuine interest in every case. She was unbelievably helpful and knowledgeable. I immediately thought about Proverbs 15:1, "a soft answer turns away wrath." Her gentle responses diffused any anger in the line, and by the time I got to the window, I was calm. Barely holding onto my tears because that's usually what happens to me after my blood boils, the water works begin. I asked her for an application and showed her the termination notice. She said to wait and someone would be with me soon. We waited. My older son and my daughter were making friends with the other children in the office. My older son was having a conversation with a girl who looked about his age about how boys play baseball and girls play softball, but she knew a boy who played softball, and he had a girl on his baseball team last year. They were smiling and talking, making the most of the situation, actually enjoying themselves. It was about this time, I checked my Facebook status. Remember I vented before leaving my house. There were comments from friends offering encouragement and prayer. I was suddenly overwhelmed with peace, and extremely embarrassed by the fact that I got so angry in the first place. And, by the fact that I had to vent my frustrations on Facebook.

During this peaceful moment of clarity, I was reminded of a question Jackson asked in church that Sunday. Jackson asks LOTS of questions, mostly pertaining to how 'real' something is. We're working on understanding the difference between fantasy and reality. He tends to lean more toward the reality side of things, and as it pertains to spirituality, I've long given up the Sunday School answers we grown ups often give kids his age. They seem to confuse him more than the grown up answers. [Case and point: asking Jesus into his heart, asking a God who is bigger than the earth, the universe and the boogie man to live in his chest would be painful and most likely result in an explosion.] He is definitely my kid. Anyway, one of the dozens of questions he asked during the service was, "is that what God sounds like?" Now, I did take notice of this question, and even thought about how precious it was, however, the full weight of it didn't hit me until that moment sitting in the DFCS office.

"Is that what God sounds like?" Yes, Baby, that is what God sounds like. He speaks to us through His Word and through His people. He speaks to us through His creation and His Spirit. He speaks through the pastor and Sunday School teachers that care for us. He shows himself in our moments of desperation through social media and the DFCS worker handling the window. He works behind the scenes in the hearts and minds of those around us to make things happen in record time, all to say He loves us and to remind us we CAN trust Him. He never drops the ball.

Jackson's caseworker came to the window. She gave me the paperwork I needed to get back to them, some had to be completed before we left making our visit with DFCS about 2 hours long. Things got tense there toward the end, DS batteries exhausted and other children to get into trouble with. However, that peace lingered.

It's funny how entitled we can become, and how offended we can get when something we feel entitled to is threatened. The Deeming Waiver allowed my son to receive therapy, paid for by the State, when we weren't able to pay, and rather than being grateful for what I had been given, I was quick to lay blame, point fingers and make accusations. How dare they terminate my child? I'll show them.

Later that afternoon I got a call from the supervisor over the Medicaid division that handles the Katie Beckett Deeming Waiver cases. One of those emails I sent out reached the right person. During my conversation with her, she apologized for the problem, confirmed it was a mix up between the two counties and she was able to reinstate my son's Medicaid benefits, immediately. They still need the review paperwork, but there would not be any lapse in care.

That's what God sounds like.