Water, walks and weight

I've been doing a bit of walking lately - and drinking lots of water. Daughter H is trying to return her body to pre baby days and I am following behind in her footsteps. We are similar in weight and height so its easy for me to just copy her - and bless her, she doesn't mind sharing at all :)
It will be difficult for me to return to my pre baby days as age and gravity have kind of taken their toll but I have been assured I can undo some of the damages I have inflicted on myself.
My biggest issue is a lack of fitness. Working in a sedentary job and not being particularly exercise minded has resulted in a flabby body and very little muscle tone.
Before embarking on this weight loss journey a week ago, I weighed myself. I seldom stand on scales as I tend to be an ostrich where my weight is concerned ... as long as my clothes continue to fit, I am usually happy. But I don't like knowing the actual weight because it means I might have to do something about it. What I don't know doesnt hurt me ....
I weighed in at 85.1kg - the same as when the doctor weighed me a year ago.
Miss H is a great fount of knowledge as she searches for information at the slightest provocation and she was able to tell me why my weight has stayed the same for so long. And she has set an exercise regime with helpful hints and suggestions of what to eat so that I don't feel deprived.
But my task for the last week has been very simple - drink 8 glasses of water a day, every day. Nothing else was expected of me but I was encouraged to walk. Drinking the water has been difficult. I don't think I have achieved the full 8 glasses daily but my intake has certainly increased .... and, just quietly, so has my output!
And on the walking side, I have done two hill walks - very steep - and one long flat walk over the past week. I found muscles I forgot I had.
But, it has all been worth it.... stood on the scales yesterday and my weight was ... taa daa [drum roll] ... 84.1kg. Yahoo - lost a whole 1kg so feel inspired and motivated to continue for another week.
That's me on the right .... catching my breath after a steep hill climb while Miss H returned to the bottom to repeat the exercise. Maybe I will be able to do that too one day in the not too distant future.

A wet raining September morning

I had good intentions for today - I was NOT going to open the laptop and spend any time surfing the net. But I have woken to a stormy morning, cold, wet, windy and the thought of getting out of bed and doing something "useful" does not appeal. So, as per usual, I have brought the laptop, my breakfast and coffee back to bed. Molly has curled up next to me and Mingus is asleep on my fallen dressing gown. It's quiet and peaceful.

It's been a while since I last blogged. I think I have made this same statement several times in previous blogs. But for me to write, I need to be in the mood .... I haven't really been in the mood for much recently.

I have faced some "interesting" and difficult challenges recently. I seem to have been gifted with the ability to listen and support others and lately there have been many calls on my time. I can think of at least 6 situations where I have been needed in a supporting role over the last few months. I have had to learn to look after myself or else I would be in a crumpled mess on the floor. Taking care of yourself is not easy for someone with gifts of compassion and mercy. You always feel like you should be available when called on but to do so would seriously compromise your own mental health and wellbeing.

My instinct is to want to rescue those in pain; to make them feel better as soon as possible. God has given me the ability to accept people as they are. I feel their pain and understand their suffering and sometimes I just want to take them in my arms and hold them and cry with them. And to say the things they want to hear. I think there is a time when that is okay but I have been learning that I cannot rush in and take over. There is a fine line between supporting and rescuing and it is hard not to cross that line. I must use wisdom, and discernment if I am to be any use at all. And above all I must speak truth and life if there is to be any healing.

And therein lies the challenge. How do I do that? It’s so easy to rattle off some cliché or scripture of encouragement and say “let go and let God” or “God is the only answer” but what does it really mean? Am I just giving off a glib response and talking Christian jargon? If I wasn’t a Christian what answer would I give? And would it be helpful?

These thoughts have occupied my mind for weeks now. As I reflected on the issue, I began to understand that by drawing on my personal knowledge of God and remembering his promises and the fulfillment of those promises in my own life, God has given me a measure of faith. This still totters from time to time and I often grab burdens back instead of leaving them with him but my grasp on them is not as tight as it used to be.

And when I consider my personal journey – where I have come from and where I am today - my response that God is the answer is the only one I can offer. Jesus is my role model. I am to follow His example – sharing the love of the father and showing love, grace and mercy in a practical way. When I show in my own life by deed and testimony that God is my only answer I am giving a powerful message.

Well, this was a direction I did not intend to go when I started writing this morning. It was going to be a "warm and fuzzy" essay with many references to cats and dogs, etc - maybe that will happen next time :)