Wonderful Abundance

To anybody reading this, I just say, "God Bless YOU!" My kids make fun of my writing all the time. (I think they're gently ribbing ol' mom, but you never can tell for sure. "Overwritten" "Flowery Tripe" "More of your usual Blah, Blah, Blah". Yup, they MUST be kidding around just to see if they can get a rise out of me. Come on! They couldn't be serious, could they?)

Enough of that... let's get on with the overwritten tripe, shall we?

This past weekend I had a marvelous adventure at a day-long auction of surplus materials from the Oak Ridge National Labs. A gigantic warehouse was full to the brim with vintage industrial lab furnishings and equipment. Seriously geeky, wonderful, scientific equipment. Have you ever wanted a positron accelerator distillation thermo-coupled neutron microscope? It was surely there. Not only was the warehouse full of all this gloriously wonderful stuff, but intermingled amidst the items were throngs of wonderfully geeky men: scientists, businessmen, machinists. I had so much fun kidding around with them, bidding against them, and enjoying the confusion on their faces when the woman in the wheelchair beat the pants off of them in the psychological war known as bidding.

Every once in awhile I would lose out on an item I really wanted. When that happened, I would tell myself, "Self, there is abundance in the universe. Don't sweat missing out on that xyz."

It would be a good question for you to ask at this point, "What does that have to do with a freakin' blog about wellness?" Glad you asked... EVERYTHING!

I realized that there was a time in my life when auctions could be really distressing. If I wanted something and didn't win, I'd think obsessively about it. Instead of paying attention with gratitude to the items I had won, I'd dream about, yearn for, cry over the one thing that I hadn't.

Such was my approach to food. Instead of that attitude of "there is abundance in the universe", I approached food with the attitude, "I better grab and eat everything I can because I don't want to pass over something because it might not come this way again." Approaching food with the attitude that there is more than enough today, and there will be more than enough tomorrow and potentially better things tomorrow, no less, I am able to easily pass up the chocolate brownie or lasagna or...

Tomorrow is another day, and it will come with its own surprises and abundance. I may drive along the road and come upon an even better geeky piece of equipment in some body's roadside trash than the one I lost in the bidding war; or I might learn that NOT having the item and being content is the real prize; or I might learn that feeling my ribcage for the first time in years is more abundance than a bakery full of cake...

Abundance. There is more than enough. And I don't have to have it all, and especially don't have to have it all today.

(Can't wait for the next auction. Did I mention all those wonderfully abundant men? :)

Wellness Breeds Wellness

This morning I arrived at work and parked in front of the smoking area for the adjacent business. Standing there were three very attractive, young, fashionable women. There was a time in my life, not so long ago, that I would have chosen to wait until they were through with their break before leaving my automobile. I wouldn't have wanted to endure the shame of the judgments that would surely be occurring. I wouldn't have been able to stand seeing myself through their eyes as I projected my damaged self-image onto them. Like a boomerang.

Not any more, though. I noted that I had changed and went busily about the business of getting my wheelchair reassembled, gathering my belongings and rolling towards my office.

As I smiled and said, "Hello" to the women, one particularly fresh-faced and cute 20-something said, "I hope you didn't think I was staring at you. I was watching so intently because my husband was in an accident a few months ago and is now a paraplegic learning how to do things like load and unload his wheelchair. I wanted to see how you did it." Cold chills.

Imagine the opportunity that would have been lost had I not experienced healing/self-acceptance and had hidden away in my vehicle! We talked for about 10 minutes and I sensed that I can help this young couple navigate the new and difficult terrain in which they find themselves. Pure grace.

Wellness. It creates ripples and fosters more wellness. Glorious system God has designed, dontcha think? :)

Instant Replay of Movie Adventure

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THuqXi8g5ao&NR=1

Thanks to my friend, Diane, I found this video on youtube. There are a few differences between this video and Saturday night:

We were NOT drunk (don't have that excuse!)
It's at a home instead of a movie theatre
It's dudes instead of a bunch of church ladies

Even with those exceptions, this gives you an idea what my friends made me do on Saturday. Really,guys, did you have to goad me into careening down the stairs! (If only I had that as a real excuse!)

Movie Adventures (Part 2)

From my perspective, this is where the story gets interesting.

The movie ends. Credits roll. Theatre empties. Sweating begins. Time to execute my creatively crafted "Operation Get Lynna Off the Ground". I sent Jen off to my car for my crutches, kindly thanked the lovely man who earlier had offered assistance, and began reassuring my friends that I was okay and that together, all of us doing a part as the Body of Christ, we could do this thing.

This is classic. Diane said, "I hadn't realized you had fallen when I saw you over there on the aisle. I thought you just wanted to sit there. I thought it was kinda odd." (If my bladder had been full, I definitely would have peed from the belly laugh this evoked.) She then said, "Lynna, you are supposed to go down stairs backwards!" Why in the heck did this ablebodied woman know this and I DID NOT! Diane, I need you to teach me how to better navigate disability!

Jen returned with my crutches and I took a deep breath and rolled over onto my knees, knowing that was the first step in the process. I instructed somebody behind me to lift my right ankle and uncross my leg off of my left leg, as I could not do that myself. I tried to pull up using the handrail, when Jen suggested crawling up a step so I would be at the top when I got in the chair instead of down one step. Yup! Great thinking! So here we are: Jen is steadying my chair so it doesn't roll backwards, others are following my directions to help position my feet, knees, crutches etc., others have been instructed their job is to pray (really), and still another assisted by keeping the well-meaning and concerned staff from impeding progress. "She's okay and we've got this under control. Relax." Truly, we did this together. And we did it with style, grace and laughter, and, surprisingly, with ease. Once I was seated, the manager asked if I would give her my name, address etc. and a synopsis. Upon hearing, she looked puzzled and asked quizzically, "You mean, you slid out of your chair because you were trying to go down stairs?" Well, duh, doesn't everybody in a wheelchair do that!"

As we left the theatre, some of my favorite memories of the evening occurred in the parking lot.

Michelle: They were probably worried you might sue them.
Me: Hey, Jen, next time we go out let's start with you dumping me out at the restaurant and I'll get us all free meals. And then we can repeat that at the movie, and...

Jeanetta: I was surprised to see so many people using the handicapped seating area.
Me: (between gulping laughter): Yeh, well everybody else in the theatre was surprised to see the handicapped woman sitting on the ground!
Me: I wonder if everybody thought I was inebriated and felt sorry for the drunk crippled woman?

It was fun and silly. Once we got to my car, I announced, "I have something to say here. (choked up a little) I need you to know that disability can be really hard and it can suck at times. But there are moments when the difficulty can be transformed into joy. And you guys have done that for me tonight. Thanks friends."

And we got in our cars and headed home. Until our next adventure... (if they are brave enough to give it another go, that is!)

Movie Adventures (Part 1)

One of these days, I am going to have enough material about my experiences at movie theatres to write a book on that subject alone. For now, though, you, gentle reader, are seeing a preview of that book in the making.

This chapter is zany.

Last Saturday, after months of staying away from involvement with people at my church (needing the space and the distance to heal), I went out with a group of women for dinner and a movie. Most were moms who left elementary school-age kids home with dads for a night of relaxation and laughter. (There were seven of us, ranging from early 30's to late 40's.)

I met them at the restaurant and started the evening feeling ebullient that I could be independent and do this without needing assistance. Learning how to load and unload my wheelchair into my vehicle by myself has opened intoxicating possibilities and has empowered me to grab hold of life with gusto.

I was late getting there and, instead of taking the extra time needed to wrestle with assembling my wheelchair, I asked a family walking past if they could give me a hand. The mom and dad fell over themselves to help, with their two young sons intently watching. I like to think that I blessed them by asking.

Quick note on dinner as it related to my fitness quest: I stayed 100% on plan with a small steak, asparagus and salad. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the others enjoying their appetizers and desserts. Actually, sitting there sipping a cup of coffee while watching their smiles as they dug into their confections, and knowing that I was doing a good thing for my body by abstaining, felt like I had dived into a triple-decker chocolate souffle. I didn't feel deprived. I felt like the abundance of the universe was mine. Delicious.

We finished dinner and assembled the troops to drive to the theatre to watch our chick flick of choice: "Eat,Pray,Love" (How perfect for a woman who desperately needed a time with friends to do all of that!) Jen rode with me and that five minute drive was pure gold as she shared her heart's passion to nurture children in our faith. Way more riveting than a movie!

The movie... theatre was packed. All of the seats except the one row with cutouts for wheelchairs were accessed only by climbing or descending stairs. Two of my friends stayed with me on that row and the rest went towards the front a couple of rows, down two, shallow steps.

I sat there feeling guilty for being the reason the group couldn't sit together. This is the worst part about disability... the way it can impede experiences of community because of physical barriers.

The trailers were just beginning, when I had a lightbulb flash. "Hey Jen and Jeanetta! Lets' go down there and sit with them. I can roll down those itty bitty stairs!" NOT!!! At the first stair, the cushion on my wheelchair slid forward and dumped me awkwardly flat on the ground!!! A sweet man sitting on that aisle and my friends rushed to help. What they didn't realize was that getting to my feet or back into the chair would likely be an involved process with me needing to give verbal directions and make numerous attempts before creatively figuring out how to align the vector forces in the physical space to do this thing. I entreated them to just wait until the movie was over and let me sit on the aisle through it. Oh well, at least I had achieved my goal: we were all sitting together in the theatre! My friends were absolute loves. Jen reached out and squeezed my hand. Michelle moved my chair so I could lean back against it for a backrest. Those small acts spoke loudly of love and compassion. It's okay to sit on the floor when you know you are loved. Truly.

I confess, I was distracted through the movie, even though I enjoyed it immensely. I was busy plotting different possibilities for getting up when it was over that wouldn't involve having to call the Knoxville Fire Department. Oh, and fervent prayers, and I do mean fervent, that my bladder would not fill during the two hour movie. (I had 2 diet cokes and two cups of coffee at dinner, so this was a VERY REAL concern!) I know my bladder and when it is full, if I put pressure on it through exertion, urine doesn't just leak but erupts and I am unable to stop it. Talk about turning an already difficult situation into something off the charts! (I won't keep you in suspense. Apparently God heard my prayers. I even made it all the way home before going to the bathroom after the movie. Crisis averted. I love you, God!

Let's finish this story in the next post shall we?
Did the firetruck make a run that night to the Turkey Creek theatre?
Am I writing this today, days later, still stuck on that aisle floor being kept alive with popcorn and milk duds?

Stay tuned...

It Took Becoming Disabled to Become an Athlete

I was always the last chosen for teams in gym class. I begin this post with that disclaimer because I want to be very, very clear that I have been as far from athletic as one can possibly get. Back in the day, before my inherited disease was diagnosed, I was just seen as super clumsy and everybody thought I was nonathletic because I preferred reading and crafting to rowdy outdoor play.

How very, very odd to be feeling like an athlete for the first time in my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm still significantly disabled. Still can't walk worth a lick. Couldn't jump an inch off the ground to save my life.

So, how can I make such a preposterous statement? Because, for the first time in my young life, I have rippling muscles. Yes, rippling! As a result of working out with resistance bands, I can flex my arms and see muscles dancing up and down my arms. Not there yet, but I see ripped,wiry, slim arms emerging. Arms of an athlete.

When I toss my wheelchair out of my car, lean over and snap the wheels in place, and transfer my body from one driver's seat to the other, I feel graceful and athletic in the fluid mastery of this task. I'm not ever gonna be pictured on the front of a Wheaties box. No matter. What does matter is that I feel like a champion. I feel strong and empowered. Graceful and lithe. And getting more so with each passing day.

Isn't that a delicious irony?

Abundance (and I don't mean the stuph)

I'm tired, but happy, after a day long road trip with a friend to travel part of the 500 mile yard sale along highway 127. We had a hilarious day. First, on the way there, we got lost (sorta) and ended up in a wildlife management area. I kept urging, "Just a little further and I know this comes out in the vicinity of the highway." And so we went deeper into the woods. Diana put her foot down that we were turning back when we came to a single lane, flat, wooden bridge barely above the creek's surface. It looked a little scary, even to me, and since we had no phone service, and since she kept calling it "Deliverance Territory", it seemed prudent to turn around.

Going "junking" is not an easy task in a wheelchair. We stopped in one little town to ask directions only to stumble upon the quaintest old-fashioned store, complete with 2 screen doors, an old-fashioned soda fountain, and chock-full of every manner of country collectibles and primitive antiques. I salivated from the doorway, unable to actualy enter the shop due to two steps. Two measly steps. I stood up and sheer determination almost propelled me up those stairs; but, once again, prudence whispered, "Is it really worth risking a fall and ruining the day?" I sat glumly outside and forced myself to stop feeling sorry for myself.

In due order, with better directions, we were soon upon the world's longest yard sale. Apparently, dealers and sellers from near and far come to this place to peddle their wares. The sheer volume of "stuph" was staggering. We stopped at one large field where dozens upon dozens of vendors had assembled their treasures. I was so happy that I have been working out... because of the extra strength I have gained in my arms, I was able to arm wrestle my wheelchair across the field and bartered to my heart's delight for my own little pile of stuff to carry home from the 22nd anual 127sale. For a self-proclaimed junkophile, it was pretty darn fun. (I sit here reflecting happily on the day and am especially thankful that I got to do this. When I began using a wheelchair, I thought my "junking" days were over. Not so. All it takes is determination, a willingness to work a little harder than most, and the ability to shrug and say "oh well" when I hit a truly insurmountable obstacle.) One happy experience from the day: numerous times when I was struggling a bit to move over an incline or bumpy terrain, lovely strangers offered a hand.

I topped off the day with an hour on my Nustep and noted that I have now completed four weeks of totally "on-plan" eating with the Medifast 5:1 plan. My wellness journey has hit a smooth patch of trail, and I'm striding happily forward.

Fun Finds Me (Part 2)

When I was ten years old, my dad finished our basement and turned it into a family room. While he intended the space under the stairs as a storage area, I saw it as a clubhouse. I carpeted the floor with cast off carpet tiles and taped posters of Donny Osmond and David Cassidy to the walls; I turned it into a ten-year-old's version of an art studio.

My friends and I spent hundreds of hours in that little, damp space creating tissue paper flowers, telephone wire rings, beaded bracelets, and treasures. We painted cast-off bottles and turned them into vases. (We were the forerunners of the "green" movement.) I remember how hot it was that summer (before my family could afford central air-conditioning), and how cool it was in our little, groovy studio under the basement stairs.

This summer, the summer of my fiftieth year, I'm playing like a ten year old. I'm turning a spare bedroom into a grown-up version of that clubhouse of my childhood. My sewing machine, which had been stored in a closet gathering dust, is set up on a wonderfully shabby oak library table. I purchased second-hand industrial shelving and have an entire wall organized with bins of crafting materials. I've been scouring thrift stores for objects to re-purpose. I'm hanging posters of Donny and David. (kidding) I'm decorating it with things things that sing to my soul: fun snapshots of my kids, my sash of badges I earned in Girl Scouts, old laboratory glassware, a rock collection. When I'm in this space, with praise music playing on the radio, and with glue and scissors in my hands, I find myself able to pray again.

(Wellness: It's not just about losing weight. It's about gaining abundance and balance. For me, balance is found in adding play to the mix. Thank you Fun for playing hide-and-seek with me. I'm glad you found me!)

Fun Finds Me

"Lynna, as your therapist, let me say that you need more fun in your life."

A few years ago, while dealing with the aftermath of a failed marriage, Grace smiled on me in the form of the kindest, most wonderful therapist who offered his services to me at an insanely reduced rate. (I don't know which was better: the reduced rate or his belief in me and desire to help me heal.)

I remember tearing up when he told me I needed more fun in my life. In a split second, I accessed the filing cabinet in my brain and pulled out the file "All the Things I once Loved That I Can No Longer Do". It's a thick file and the pages are stained with tears. I wanted to say to him, "Don't you understand? With a progressive neuromuscular disease, it's risky business to take pleasure in activities... you never know when your body will no longer co-operate and you'll have to add a new page to the expanding file of losses. Surely, there's a limit to the weight of grief and mourning that a human being can endure... at least this human being."

I did respond by telling him, "My fun is helping other people. I take enjoyment and pleasure in helping other people thrive."

That was true. My job was "fun" in the sense of being satisfying, creative, rewarding. Unfortunately, I had few other outlets for enjoyment that weren't in some way related to my job and the people at my church. For the past few months, since I resigned under duress (which added about an inch of paperwork to the "Losses" file), my "fun" tank has been bone dry.

I've been casting about for another ministry in which to immerse myself. While I've been preoccupied in that regard, Grace has arrived with a handful of helium balloons and an invitation to play.

"God, I've been asking for meaningful work and you are offering play. That is SOOO YOU!"

(See the next post for details!)

I'm Magnetic

Magnetic for Carbs, that is.

I don't get it. Everywhere I turn these days, I am SURROUNDED by people tempting me with unsolicited food... carbohydrate-laden food. While lingering over conversation with friends following a delicious tomato/basil salad, the devil walked up and with the sweetest little voice drawled, "Would you care to sample our fresh bear claws?"

The next day, again at lunch with a friend, and again choosing items from the menu that are compliant with the Medifast program, I'll be doggoned if that same devil didn't reappear in the form of our waiter. "Ma'am, I know you ordered the steamed broccoli, but they made a mistake in the kitchen and gave you mashed potatoes. I'll bring your broccoli, but go ahead and enjoy the potatoes." (Just like the waitress the previous day, he looked like a young, fresh-faced college kid. I KNOW the truth, though!)

Again today. Lunchtime. I'm happily minding my own business when my darling, elderly, next door neighbor pecks on my door. "Lynna, I've brought you a plate of Italian bread with my homemade pesto." Four, count-em, FOUR! honkin' slices of bread slathered in her fresh-from-the-garden pesto.

Funny thing, though, I haven't experienced much desire to eat the proferred food. As wonderful as I know that bread would taste, I'm savoring even more the experience finding new vitality, both physically and emotionally, as I am gradually freed of the extra pounds that have weighed me down for the past ten years.

There will come a day when a slice of bread will be a wonderful treat; but for today, manna comes in the form of a protein shake. I'm grateful for that.