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Posts Tagged ‘Wonder’

This is a post from almost three years ago, when I was asked if I would like to go on an overnight hike with my daughter’s Outdoor Education class. Since she left yesterday on an overnight canoe and hike trip (without me this time) I thought I would do a bit of reflecting on this memory.

Do you ever say ‘yes’ to to a request, and then say to yourself “what the … heck was I thinking?” (pretty much the theme of MY life). Well, that is where this blog post is going …

A few weeks ago, I said, “yes” to my daughter, when she asked if I could go on a hike with her Outdoor Education class. My calendar looked like it would be a possibility (if I could get one day off), and I love walking, so the challenge of hiking and camping sounded splendid!

Then, after not hearing any more about it, I discovered they NEEDED me, as there was no other ‘female’ adult available … Yikes, talk about feel a combination of important and … last straw drawn. And they needed me so badly that they were willing to get a sub for me. When they put their money where their needs are, you know it’s not really you, it’s your availability!

So, Tuesday, enroute to our destination, I learned the POA (Plan Of Action), for the next two days …

Drive to Chilliwack (a little over an hours drive, in the handy, dandy school bus).

Hike for one hour (no sweat!).

Set up camp, on platforms (sounds civilized enough).

Hike for another three to four hours (okay, I am up for the challenge).

Cook dinner (best part of the trip … with all those calories burned, I can eat anything).

Play games, have a camp fire, toast marshmallows, make s’mores (who wouldn’t want to say ‘yes’ to all this?).

Sleep in tent (okay, this is the … ‘iffy’ part for me … genetically. You see, way back, in the dark ages … when I was a kid, my family went camping … once! We borrowed all the equipment, drove to the campsite, set up tent, roasted our weenies, swam in the lake, got ready for bed, and … were packed up, drove home, and in our own beds, by midnight! (But, I digress …)

Wake up, eat breaky, pack up, hike for an hour and drive back to the school.

Easy peasy!

Okay, let me just say, after the fact, that when you get your ‘POA’ … ALWAYS take into account who it is (ie. their reference point) that is delivering your POA …YOU might see things a little differently … Mr. Outdoor Ed. loves hiking, and does so whenever possible … he’s planning on doing the West Coast Trail, in a few years … 75km!

So, the bus drive was great! I love to be the proverbial ‘fly on the wall’ and listen as fourteen year-olds discuss their lives, their friends, their parents (and yes, for a fee, I might be willing to share what I’ve learned), their teachers (same cost applies), and each other.

The first one hour hike … hum, to quote one website … the trail climbs 300m in elevation … NOT easy peasy! But I did it (with the tenacity of Rocky Balboa)!

The lake (Lindeman Lake), where we pitched our tents was like a miniature of Lake Louise … The water so clear, so aqua green, so cold (as a few teens discovered when they, or their tootsies, got a little too close … made for interesting campfire times).

And, speaking of campfire times … notice the sign to the far left … now notice the picture to the right of it … enough said πŸ˜‰

Back to the campsite … it was here that I discovered, to my shock, and amazement, that a shovel was a needed tool to go potty! Yikes, and this news coming into the ears of a girl who is scared of outhouses!

Then we parted for hike number two of the day. It started pretty mellow … along the lake, beautiful mountain views, a few spots where one had to watch where one was stepping so as not to wet their tootsies … and … then … it … changed … ALOT! See the picture to the right, we hiked all along this area, and, as I look at it now … this picture does not do the rocky trail justice! It was a harrowing hike (I was so mentally and physically challenged by it, I forgot to keep looking around for snakes, cougars and bears). After this part, we ended up in the forest, via a few logs carelessly floating in the water (and thanks to the tree limbs that helped to balance us). Then … we … took … the … same … path … back ! And not one aged, out of shape, saggy momma was lost in the hiking of this trail!

The dinner part went great! The games went great! The campfire went great! And the s’mores … a m a z i n g !

The night went of forever. It rained … fast, hard, slow, intermittently … all night long (if you’ve read many of my previous posts, you’ll know that I hate rain when I am snug and cozy in my house … so, in a tent …). In the morning, it stopped πŸ™‚

And we had breakfast πŸ™‚

And we packed up, lickety split πŸ™‚

And we put out our last fantastic fire πŸ™‚

And … I used the shovel 😦

And then we began our descent to our waiting bus. And, let me tell you, if I communicated that up was challenging, down makes up look like a walk in the park! I only fell once, and the skin will re-grow over that area of my knee in no time.

In the end, I got to spend about thirty hours with fantastic, well behaved, energetic, musical (LOUD), entertaining, teens. They shared their food, their camping goods, their clothes and their toilet paper with anyone with a need. They all took part in ensuring that the bus was spic and span clean. They all said good-bye, and thanks to their teacher, and even to this mom.

And not one teacher, student, or mom was lost in this hiking and camping adventure.

I’m so glad I said, “yes.”

And, in the immortal words, sung to music (and by all thirteen teens in the bus heading back to the school), by Nellie Furtado …

“Come to an end, come to an

Why do all good things come to an end?”

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What makes ones life wonderful?

The other night I came into the bedroom to see hubby watching the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” … without me! So I climbed into the blankets, snuggled up against him, and we watched the last part together. Many years ago it was hubby who introduced this classic to me. And every year since, it has become a part of our Christmas season.

It is a story of looking back, looking at today and looking forward into the future (kind of like Dickens ‘A Christmas Carol’). It is a story of hopelessness and of hope. It is a story of redemption.

The movie is focused on George, a man who had always wanted to travel the world. It also tells of his life’s impact on others, not by any one big thing that he did or accomplished, but just by living, and making choices (just like all of us).

In this movie we learn that George never did get to travel the world. He never followed his dream.

To many of us that seems like such a loss, like such a waste. Our society tells us that ‘we can do it’, that ‘if you can dream it you can achieve it’. Even within the Christian culture we (and by ‘we’ I mean ‘I’ as well) often believe our dreams and passions are the ways that God reveals our purpose in life, and the outworking of the gifts and talents that He has created us with. When we think this way, we become very dependent on fulfilling our dreams, to accomplish a wonderful life.

But, is it in following our dreams that we can live the wonderful life?

For George, his realization of his wonderful life came from the blessing of seeing his life, as others saw it. He had indeed had a wonderful life. And his wonderful life came from the impact his own life had on all around him, not through his pursuit of his dreams, but through his care for others. And, in the end, they reciprocated … big time.

The final, and most beautiful reminder of what it is that makes a life wonderful life, is when George reads the inscription his angel-friend Clarence writes in a book for him, “Dear George, remember no man is a failure who has friends.”

It is not in achieving a dream that we have a wonderful (or, dare I say, wonderfilled) life, but in sharing our life with others who we can call friends.

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It is the season of Saint Nick and he is everywhere.images-3

So, Santa is everywhere at this season of the year, and he is not new, and not North American. The story of Saint Nick goes back to the fourth century. In various times and his name has been Sinterklaas, Father Christmas, Père Noël and Saint Nicholas.

I admit that, as a Christian parent, it is not always an easy thing to try to empathize the birth of Christ, while at the same time all the world around me shouts of Santa Claus. It is a very difficult thing to try to teach of the greater value of the eternal gifts that Jesus brings while Santa Clause brings Barbie and Lego. Hubby and I have agonized over how to deal with Santa Claus in the life of our family.

When speaking with a teacher friend recently, she shared what she had been dealing with in her kindergarten classroom; two children who did not believe in Santa Claus, and whose mission it was to cast all those who did into a fiery pit. I have to say, her experience confirmed for me that the middle ground perspective on ‘the Claus’ that hubby and I chose to take was a wise one!

For us we chose to neither encourage nor discourage the belief in Santa Claus, just like we neither encouraged nor discouraged the belief in the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, Narnia, Secret Garden, or Fairy Tales. Those magical things, places and people take us to delightful, wonder-filled fictitious escapes into our imaginations that help us to grow and develop with with ability to dream.

But, Saint Nicholas was not a fictitious character, he was a very real person.

Saint Nicholas was a Greek Christian bishop in modern day Turkey in the 4th century. He was known for giving extensively to the poor, to children. His most famous gift is believed to be to a family with three daughters. The family was terribly poor and had no financial way to provide dowries for their three daughters of marrying age. Such a situation could result in these three young ladies being forced into slavery, prostitution. The story goes that Nicholas reached his hand into a window of the house, leaving enough money for the three to have dowries to marry. The story further goes that the money fell into stockings that were hanging by the window to dry … yet another rational for the tradition of Christmas stockings.

Although Nicholas was never officially canonized (the process that the Roman Catholic Church utilizes to recognize it’s saints), the day of the Feast day of St. Nicholas (December 6) continues. Much more can be read about Saint Nicholas.

To believe in him is delightful childhood, to know of the God-loving man behind the beard is essential for the imagination to take root, and blossom into putting that faith into our own works of love for others.

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“What does it profit, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but does not have works?
Can faith save him?
If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you says to them,
β€œDepart in peace, be warmed and filled,”
but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does it profit?
Thus also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.
But someone will say, β€œYou have faith, and I have works.”
Show me your faith without your works, and I will show you my faith by my works.
You believe that there is one God. You do well. Even the demons believeβ€”and tremble!
But do you want to know, O foolish man, that faith without works is dead?
Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered Isaac his son on the altar?
Do you see that faith was working together with his works,
and by works faith was made perfect?

And the Scripture was fulfilled which says,
β€œAbraham believed God, and it was accounted to him for righteousness.”
And he was called the friend of God.
You see then that a man is justified by works, and not by faith only.
Likewise, was not Rahab the harlot also justified by works
when she received the messengers and sent them out another way?
For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.”
James 2:14-26

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images-1At this time of year there is nothing more beautiful to see (other than snow falling … oh how I would love to see snow falling … maybe even snow falling that leads into a school cancellation … but, I digress) than a toddler or preschooler mesmerized by the lights of Christmas. Truly there is no more wonder-filled look than that!

The child stares into the lights, unable to break their glance. They are completely in awe, pulled into the mysterious power of color and light.

I tried so many times with our children to capture that look in a picture, but was never able to get it. As I looked through images online, I realized that I am not the only parent unable to capture that look of wonder, as there were so few photos available.

That light-memorizing wonder is one that parallels our innate wonder for light, but beyond the visual light. That “God-shaped vacuum” within us is one of longing to be filled by the light of the Creator of this world, of us. It is the light from our Creator that is contained in the brilliant lives of those who love Him, of those who allow Him to lead their lives.

Isaiah 60:1-3 says:

β€œArise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.
See, darknessΒ  covers the earth
and thick darkness is over the peoples,
but the Lord rises upon you
and his glory appears over you.
Nations will come to your light,
and kings to the brightness of your dawn.

Our hearts are sensitive to the presence of light, and this is the season when light is celebrated. Ironically, not just among Christians, but also Jews (Hanukkah), African Americans (Kwansaa), Hindus (Diwali), and probably even more. We all long for the wonder of light to enter into our beings, so that we might all shine … as we were created to do.

“O little town of Bethlehem
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight”

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Happy Thanksgiving!

The Canadian autumn weekend of eating too much is upon us, and I cannot wait for the scent of roast turkey to begin wafting from my oven, complete with stuffing, candied yam, and desserts … yum … I AM thankful!

It is easy to sit around a table, full of great food and great people, and be thankful … but, “in all circumstances?”

Sometimes the table is missing loved ones, who do not live near, or who do not live here on Earth.

Sometimes the table has meager offerings.

Sometimes health is not good.

Sometimes relationships are not healthy.

Sometimes jobs are in peril … or non-existent.

Sometimes homes are lost.

Sometimes hope has faded.

Sometimes memories are gone.

Sometimes …

“give thanks in all circumstances;
for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
1 Thessalonians 5:18

God’s will is for us to give thanks? But … what if that which we have gives us little to be thankful for?

I cannot speak for the heart of God, nor can I speak for any other human being, but I will share with you how life changing giving thanks has been, in the heart of this mere mortal.

As I began to post about two and a half years ago, my goal was to reflect the name I chose, itsawonderfilledlife. I wanted to not stop looking at life with the awe and wonder of a child. I wanted to never allow life to so jade me that I ceased to be amazed at just how blessed I am.

And so, as I write, as I write, each and every day, I do so with the goal of being wonder-filled in my heart.

Now, every day is not light and fluffy, and perhaps there are posts that are downright depressing … but my hope is that the focus is predominantly one of wonder.

The past three years have included some of the most heart-wrenching struggles to keep getting out of bed each day, and yet the focus of searching for wonder, has it falling at my feet each and every day …

from fog in the morning,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2012/11/20/fog/
to an eagle’s cry,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2012/09/21/where-are-my-wings/
to all of creation,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2011/06/02/creation-calls-me-to-believe/
to a child’s joy,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2012/03/15/jumping-in-puddles/
to the note of a student,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2013/06/21/better-than-a-gift-card/
to the message of encouragement from a friend,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2013/09/10/mamma-meltdown/
to the right song on the radio at just the right time,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2012/09/05/good-to-be-alive/
to the whisper of God, “I love you, with an everlasting love,”
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2013/09/27/ways-he-says-i-love-you/
to the smell of fresh brewed coffee,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2013/08/14/making-coffee/
to the blessing of great parents,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2011/06/30/love-pussy-willows/
to the joy of being mom to one daughter,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/my-loves-brittany/
to the joy of being mom to another daughter,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/my-loves-cris/
to the joy of being mom to a son,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/my-loves-ben/
to the joy of being mom at all,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/2012/05/10/a-letter-on-being-mom/
to the life with the man who has loved me when I do not deserve his love,
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/my-loves-my-hubby/
to the redemption that God offered, for all my sins.
https://itsawonderfilledlife.net/my-loves-numero-uno/

… in ALL circumstance?

You bet!

Because there is always something to be thankful for! Always.

“Come, ye thankful people, come, raise the song of harvest home;
All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin.
God our Maker doth provide for our wants to be supplied;
Come to God’s own temple, come, raise the song of harvest home.”

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Today we celebrate Mother’s Day!

I have been blessed with a great mom. Although I will not be with her in body, my love and appreciation are being transmitted across the miles, from coast to coast, from heart to heart. I have also been blessed to be called mom. It is my most favorite title, name, and calling. It is the experience that has changed, not just my life, but me, the most.

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As I think about this annual celebration, it seems that there is a baby boom all around. Although not many ladies that I know personally are expecting, it seems as though every shop, restaurant, park and bus stop is full of them!

With each exposure to pregnancy, I am realizing that something within me is changing. I no longer look at the expectant mom, and think:

‘how exciting for her.”

Now I look and think:

“does she know?”

Does she know of the miracle of this entire process, from conception to birth?

Does she know how surreal it will be to watch a perfectly formed human being emerging from her own body?

Does she know the mixed emotions of wanting to hold this child in her arms, and knowing that with each push, she is closer to that moment when she will no longer feel him or her moving around … within her very own body?

Does she know that her child will be born with a scent uniquely their own, and if she were blinded she could surely pick her own child out of a crowd just by their scent?

Does she know that ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes will be the only thing she will count on that first day she holds her baby?

Does she know that, no matter how tired she is, she will choose to watch her baby sleep peacefully, as she stares in awe and wonder?

Does she know how holding her sleeping child will create the most deep feeling of warmth?

Does she know how a smile from her baby will erase the fatigue of sleepless nights?

Does she know the changes to come?

As the years pass …

As her child grows …

As busyness takes over …

As independence, and school, and part time jobs, and friends come between them …

As her job, her husband, her house maintenance, her meal preparations, her friends come between them …

As growing up can mean growing apart …

The moments of inhaling their scent, wondering at God’s handiwork in their form, watching them sleep. The moments of rapt wonder, just at the existence of this miraculous removed part of her, dim somewhat from her memory.

And then …

a phone call

a text

a note left in haste

a shared laugh

a glace at their adult body sleeping

a hug

an I love you

a momentary pause when looking at the size of their t-shirt, she remembers how tiny their t-shirt was many years ago.

And it will take her back to those early days of wonder at this piece of herself walking this Earth.

And it … all … comes … back.

And all she wants to do, is to hold that overgrown child of hers, and feel the warmth, and inhale their scent, and trace the outline of their lips with the soft of her finger.

Does she know?

A woman,
when she is in labor,
has sorrow because her hour has come;
but as soon as she has given birth to the child,
she no longer remembers the anguish,
for joy that a human being has been born into the world.”
John 16:21

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It wasn’t my fault … really!

Like a good girl (can I still call myself a girl, while hiding gray hairs under regular highlighting treatments?), I packed a poo bag into my hoody pocket, before heading out on a walk on the trail with my beast. But, something so unexpected, so terrible happened …

The day started out so perfectly! The sun was shining (a miracle really, as the monsoons and cooler April weather, had gone on for over a week straight), there was fresh snow on the mountains (cooler weather and monsoons down here equal fresh snow up there), it was cool (but not so cool that I needed my toque), the beast was excited (she’s a dog, she’s always excited to walk … well, except during the monsoons … we are kindred spirits!), and I was ready for a brisk exercise (so I could burn calories, and, therefore, eat more later).

And off we went. I walked the regular distance in record time! (probably had something to do with the fact that my beast, literally, pulls me up the hills … I love her!)

Then, about three quarters of the walk done, she starts pulling to the side (where the grass was). So, I loosen the leash so as to allow her the freedom to find her perfect ‘port-a-potty’ site.

She squats.

I put my hand in my pocket to retrieve ‘poo bag’.

I frowned.

I put my hand, further into my pocket (there was no ‘further’).

Nothing.

Panic set in.

Dog is still squatting.

I hear voices, in the distance, coming closer.

I break into a cold sweat.

What will I do … with the poo?!

I yank the leash attached to squatting beast.

No poo on the ground.

I sigh, relief!

We walk for almost twenty minutes more. The beast in distress with each step (remember she had been in squatting position, so, she is now spending 20mins. ‘turtling’ … you know how a turtle’s head moves in and out … enough said).

We reach the van. I grab another poo bag out of the glove compartment (I think of it more as a catch all compartment). I take beast to fresh, green, lush grass.

Beast sniffs grass.

Beast looks up at me.

I say, “poo beast”.

Beast looks up at me.

Beast sits on fresh, green, lush grass.

Crises averted!

20 Hours Later …

Beast finally poos, in our backyard …

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I am a bit … anal (catch the pun?) when it comes to what comes out of a dog. But I am okay with that, because … I am right!

There is nothing that can get my knickers in a knot like poo on the path! I always feel as though my eyes (and nasal passages) have been violated when I see that! Seriously, how hard is it to bend your body down and scoop up that warm, stinky, bacteria-breeding matter, then dispose of it in the nearest garbage can? Heck, if you forget your ‘poo baggie’ you can at least take a stick and move it out of sight. Oh, my aching nasal passages!

So, tonight (when the sun FINALLY decided to show it’s face in my life, while hubby sends me daily emails, with statements from a Southern Eden that say “Oh, it’s a bit chilly today, only 80 degrees” … let me tell you, he can take his 80 degrees and … lets just say, another pun) I took the beast for a walk (and wished I had brought mittens, and a toque).

We had a great walk. The weather was dry, mostly (when it started to rain, I started my ‘I hate rain dance’, and, for a change, it worked! The weather gods probably didn’t want me dancing in public anymore … it was probably quite a site … kind of a mix of something tribal, and a two-year old having a hissy fit). The beast was thrilled to be relieved of her cabin fever (cabin fever definition for my beast – any movement, by any of her ‘persons’ in the household ‘could’ mean she gets to GO, and so she will leap from wherever she is when she hears any movement beyond breathing). I was thrilled to be relieved of my cabin fever (cabin fever definition for me – sighs, whenever I hear or see rain, followed by frantic searching of real estate ANYWHERE else … Winnipeg has not be omitted! Can you sense my desperation?).

By the time we were in the home stretch (aka, the point of the walk that I start thinking about all the calories I just burned, and how that means I can now give myself a ‘treat’ … solid thinking!), I was feeling like a million bucks, and was starting to have ‘west coast’ thinking (aka. it rains for two weeks straight, then the sun comes out, and so do the west coasters, who all say the same things; “why isn’t this the best place to live?”, “It is so great to live here.” and “I love where I live.” … but where do their memories of the previous two weeks go? … and don’t tell me it’s optimism, it’s downright delusion!).

Then my beast did what she NEVER does … she pooed … on the gravely trail! My beast only poos on green … my fashionista daughter thinks it’s because her poos are yellowish and the green of the grass bring out the lighter, brighter hues … Oh crap (another pun), please don’t tell me you were falling for that!

Truly, she really never poos on anything that isn’t green. Why, last summer we has a dry spell (some time I need to tell you about the insanity of limiting water use … here!), and I thought our beast might be contemplating bulimia to avoid having to poo on brown grass. Heck, the kids are so infrequent at doing the ‘poo pick-up’, our grass is always brown anyway! But, I digress.

So, she poo is on the the gravely trail. After my shock at her irregular (ha! ha! another pun) behavior subsides, I reach into my pocket for a baggie (praying the whole time that it didn’t fall out), and there it is, phew! At least I didn’t have to stand there looking around, wondering if anyone was looking at us, so I could skulk off, poo still on the path, because I didn’t have a baggie.

I go to ‘scoop the poop, in one fell swoop’, but, I am inexperienced in scooping poop from a gravely pathway, so one fell swoop just isn’t going to do it! I go in for the second swoop, but, again due to my inexperience, I apply too much downward pressure (this could be a pun ..), and my baggie (made out of the thinnest plastic available), shreds against the gravely pathway.

I am now so feeling the pressure (more puns) to get this mess wiped (pun) off the seat (pun) of my existence. I look at the shredded side of the baggie, I look at the remaining pooh still on the gravely path, I look at the beast, and give her a look that communicates ‘this is your fault’, and she looks at me and communicates ‘GO?’ (another, but much more unintentional, pun).

So, I reposition the poo in the baggie (don’t think for too long, of how I might have done that), so as to create the best possibility of one last (complete) successful swoop, avoiding any … skid marks … on my hand. But there’s just so many little pieces of poo strewn throughout the gravel! I am perplexed.

I swoop quickly, so quickly that the little pieces of poo, along with the gravitational (downward) pull, fly through the air, creating a much larger area strewn with the stinky stuff. I am left with a decision to make; do I even try to ‘finish the job’?

But, I have standards, and poo-lluting the pathway cannot go unwiped!

I bend, I swoop, and … it’s a clean sweep! I’ve bagged the poo! So, I tie the baggie up, and toss it into a nearby garbage can (when does that ever happen … usually I carry the full baggie so long, I forget about it until I start to toss it in the garbage in the van … imagine the sweet smell of success that could produce?).

This post, although greatly enhanced, is true, and I dedicate it to my 11-year old son, for whom there is no humor like potty humor! (and for whom, there is no greener color you turn, than when you are picking up poo).

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iEat (repost)

diet cup

Hello, my name is Carole, and I am food-aholic. There I said it, step one is covered. Hum, maybe too harsh, too guilt-laden. Just saying it made me feel bad (maybe I need chocolate). Let me try again …

Hello, my name is Carole, and I am an emotional eater. Now that sounds better. Kind of less … responsibility, on my part … it’s all my emotions fault that I eat so much, so often. I love having something else to blame for my thunder thighs!

The thing is, it really is true, I am an emotional eater.

When I am sad, I eat … because I am feeling low, and I need something to make me happy, and food tastes good, so it makes me happy.

When I am depressed, I eat … usually I am depressed because my buttons won’t button up past the inches of flesh covering my 6-pack. Food always fits, perfectly.

When I am happy, I eat … what better way to celebrate, anything (a birthday, a wedding, a Monday) than to stuff your face with celebratory food (chocolate, anything with whipping cream, cheesecake)?

When I am unsure, I eat … when I just don’t know what step to take next in life, I just walk to the refrigerator. There is still uncertainty in opening the door … do I choose the cheese, the left-over chicken, or the left-over cheesy potato casserole? Heck, we’ve got an entire meal, why choose just one?

When I am angry, I eat … I like to think of chewing as a non-violent way to unwind from the rising tension of anger, and then I swallow, and then, hours later … well I kind of … flush the anger away!

When I am scared, I eat … feel gives my tummy a very uneasy feeling, like the contents of my tummy might revolt, and toss my cookies. Well then, I better make sure there are cookies to toss!

When I am PMS’ing … do I need to explain this one? I don’t think so! Heck Pre-menstral? Post-menstral? We women are always PMS’ing … buy your stocks in Lindt, Purdy’s, Ghiradelli, and Hershey’s men, and we women will grab the chocolate.

Look out world, my emotional eating is about to change the TSX, the AMEX, the NASDAQ, and the TSE!

See, it’s all for good in the end!

Pass me some Hershey Dark chocolate, please … my excitement over emotional eating is stimulating the world economy!

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Evil Thoughts … (repost)

Do you ever have … evil thoughts?

Well, maybe not really ‘evil’, just … thoughts that, if you carried them out, would be so against your nature, and so vile and nasty to the recipient of your actions or words.

I am mature enough to tell you that I am guilty of having … evil thoughts.

This revelation beganΒ  wΒ  aΒ  yΒ  back into my childhood, when I was old enough to know better than to do what the ‘little voices’ (oh man, now I am revealing that I hear little voices … now it’s in print, and could be used against me … to the ‘home’ they will send me) in my head were telling me to do … with my brother (I don’t remember which one, but that doesn’t really matter … I’m sure I had this thought about both, at one point or another). I was carrying him, and, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, there is this evil thought in my head … Carole, throw him down on the floor … Yikes! Now, depending on what he had done recently to my Barbie dolls, I might have contemplated that a bit longer than I should, but, let me assure you that I did not do it … but I thought about it.

Then, the other day, I was out walking my beast. We walked near our home for a change, along the road, past other more rural properties. My beast, at the beginning of the walk, had a poo (and, yes, I did have a poo bag) … now this is strange, because she normally ‘goes number two’ at the end of our walk. So, I had to carry the full poo bag on our walk. Then, out of nowhere, there is this evil thought in my head … Carole, put the full poo bag in one of the mailboxes …. Yikes! We passedΒ  mΒ  aΒ  nΒ  yΒ  mailboxes on our walk, and the temptation was great! (and just to let you know, especially if you live near me, I did not put the poo bag in any mailboxes … just sayin’)


Not long ago (okay, yesterday) I was at a movie with my girls. And when I returned to the theater I almost went to sit with the wrong person (it was a very dark theater). Then, out of nowhere, there is this evil thought in my head … Carole, just sit beside him anyway, and eat his popcorn … Yikes! Okay, that one did make me giggle (and my daughters heard me, so they could direct me where to sit … and to ‘be quiet, mom, you are sooooo immature … imagine if I had told them why I was giggling)!

Then, there’s the parking lot … any parking lot. And the lot is jam packed, and I cannot find a spot. Then, just as one comes available, someone else gets it before me, and I have this thought … heck, just play the video!

And, NO, I am not guilty of actually doing this … yet (I do fear that the onslaught of … getting older, might make me susceptible to actually fulfilling what, lets face it ALL of us have had evil thoughts about doing).

Not long ago, my hubby had declared his 50+ pound weight loss, in our church, to much praise and congratulations (I’m so proud of him, too). After the church service, someone (whose identity God has been gracious to wipe from my memory), came up to me and said, ‘I see you’ve been finding all the weight that your hubby has lost’. And out of nowhere an evil repertoire of words came to mind, but … yikes … Gods omnipotence struck my vocal cords, and I was unable to respond (and, I have to say, I am a bit bitter about that one!).

Then there is that email … you know the one. It talks about fun things to do, to other people, while shopping (so many ‘evil thoughts’ in that one email)? Like slipping boxes of condoms into unsuspecting shoppers carts, hiding in a clothing rack and, when someone is looking, yell out ‘pick me’, or setting all of the Tickle Me Elmo’s off, then scooting out of the aisle, just as hubby walks into the aisle … oh wait, I actually did do that one … but not the condom one … yet πŸ™‚


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