Catching Up

I feel like I've written a thousand blog posts. But I haven't. They've all been in my head. 

So in my head I share with everyone about how I went on an airplane at the end of July for the first time post op, and how I didn't even touch the person next to me. 

Or I just know I wrote about how hard getting back in the gym has been, and how soul crushing it can be to see how much weaker I am. 

In my mind I wrote about taking my nieces to LegoLand, and how I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to ride the ride in there, and even if I could I wouldn't be able to peddle. I was so afraid of being embarrassed in front of them that I was having a mild anxiety attack in line. But then I got on, and I fit. I fit, and I peddled my heart out the entire way. 

I was almost sure I had a blog or two about training for this 5k and how far I had fallen behind. And about the constant battle in my brain between determination and shame. Maybe one day I'll actually learn mercy in the middle. 

But then I logged on just now and saw that none of that was there. It was all just in my mind. And truly, I'm ok with that. 

Except that I'm not. 

Because I think this blog, as silly as I genuinely believe it is, has become something so much more. It's become a place to share my heart. Throw all of those thoughts and feelings into the nebulous web, and you, yes you, actually give a damn. Partially, I think because you just care about me, your friend, your sister, daughter, cousin, co-worker, whatever I am to you, but also because I think that in throwing all of this out there I get to just say "sometimes life is hard", and that's something we can all relate to. 

So, yes, my journey is to lose dang near 300lbs, and maybe you've got 20 to lose, but both are seemingly impossible mountains. Maybe it's not weight at all. Maybe it's getting over fear, or shame, or just knowing that there's a stinking goal in front of you that you want to run through, and reading this blog simply means nothing more than you're not alone. 

But that's saying a whole lot, isn't it? 

You're not alone. 

I'm here. And I'm sorry I haven't taken the time to write more. Please forgive me.

This morning I got an email from a woman who doesn't know how much she has meant to me. Her daughter was my first best friend when my family moved to Fort Worth. Her son one of my brother's best friends and therefore one of my first crushes at the age of 6. She and my mom were best friends, and because of that I got to see a side to my Mom that I grew up idolizing. They were fun together, they sang and laughed, rode horses, and I wanted to be just like them. 

I don't know what happened, other than just life. Time and distance can part the closest of friendships, and I kinda hate that, but I also understand. So this morning when I got an email from her I was instantly excited to see what was going on in this wonderful woman's life. What I read crushed me.

She has cancer. 

It's treatable. But it's cancer. 

She has cancer, and in her email she is encouraging me to keep writing and sharing my journey with her, you, and everybody. Some stupid blog about losing weight, which half of the time I still think I cheated on by having surgery, except that the surgery saved my life. 

But then that's when I realized that this isn't some stupid blog about losing weight. 

It's about hope. 

Hope that death and disease doesn't win out just yet.

Hope that even when it's impossibly hard, there is grace. There is mercy. And there is a new day coming. 

Hope that we can laugh at ourselves. 

Hope that its ok that we cry. 

Hope that even if all we can do is breathe and blink today, that there might be singing and dancing to come. 

So here's to you Jody. Here's to you and all of the Jody's and Kelly's out there. Whether its cancer, or weight, or a struggling marriage, or financial trouble, sick children, or just the fear that you went too far to be forgiven this time. 

Here's to hope. 

And to the One who fulfills it.