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FROM THE FRONT PORCH continued
One Step...Then Another
by Rebekah Sykes
Ever feel like you are going a million miles an
hour down a dead end street? You wake up one
day and question, “How on earth did I ever get
here?” You find yourself living the consequences
of another’s choices, of living others’ dreams
rather than your own. Non-stop, maxed out
days wherein you feel guilty about bathroom
breaks and about going to bed before midnight;
you feel helpless in meeting everyone’s needs,
inadequate you couldn’t solve every problem.
Health issues creep in; sleep patterns get all
mixed up. With each doctor check up, you know
it’s coming—the look on his face when he asks
you to describe a normal day. Your normal
becomes his “Shock and Awe,” as warnings about
slowing down proceed. After so many similar
talks, you begin to think all of the doctors are
talking behind your back, yet you soon realize
there are no connections, no discussions, no
conspiracies. When the conversations become
the same from all different angles, you start to
listen. You wake up and realize you can’t give
what you don’t have; after too many withdrawals
and no deposits, you start running on empty.
Break down becomes inevitable; buckle up
for the crash. Better yet, wake up, and change
directions with one step... then another.
Life coach Holley Gerth perfectly
communicates the path, “A full life and life to
the full are two very different things. One is
about grasping, the other is about receiving.
One is about cramming in, the other is about
room to breathe. One is about striving, the other
is about trust. One is about control, the other
is about letting go—sometimes for a moment
and sometimes for always.” Of course, many
different personalities come into play as some
carry the load; others give the load. For those
carrying more than their share, it’s time to
release the burden not made for you to carry.
With your knees buckling, throw off the weight
and with the lightening, you will soAR! You’ll
begin to see glimpses of your own dreams
through the misty fog. In the freeing, maybe just
maybe you’ll carry the load given to you—your
hopes, dreams, and burdens. No path is easy; no
journey without potholes, but in time hopefully
you’ll jump the potholes rather than drown in
them. Truly the way becomes easier with the
Good Shepherd leading as, “I shall not want”
when “He leadeth me beside the still waters. He
restoreth my soul.” (Ps. 23) Calm, restoration.
For those too busy to stop and smell the
roses, this is the year to step up and enjoy! Upon
a rare treat of a massage, my massage therapist
stressed the importance of two things—staying
hydrated with lots of water and taking deep,
cleansing breaths. Quietly, slowly, definitely
Donna spoke as I listened from the floral sofa.
An awakening moment enlightened as I had
the water part down, just not the breathing. I
realized my short, fast little breaths mimicked
my racing here, there, and everywhere. Thinking
back to all of the labor and deliveries of bringing
my sons into the world, deep breaths were
insisted upon by the coaching nurses. Long,
deep, slow counting to 10. Intentional breaths
have become a goal; it’s making the time that
becomes the challenge. As we slow, the quiet
begins to speak bringing those quiet still voices
whispering truth. Ultimately the One who
whispers in the wild, the still small voice Elijah
recognized after the wind, an earthquake, and
fire still speaks.
As the New Year opens new calendar pages
holding classic cars, maybe beaches, birds,
horses, athletes or beauties, the days will become
marked off in no time. Without intentional
living, our goals we so hoped to diligently
accomplish magically drift into oblivion as we
race into another day. Maybe we aren’t racing
too fast any more as life to the extreme begins
to catch up with us. Exhaustion, obesity, high
blood pressure, high cholesterol, high blood
sugar—such are the common ailments of classic
Americana which could be alleviated through
simple, definite choices. Sure you can have the
biggest house on the block; the biggest mortgage
comes along with it. You can have the latest
fashion, current gadget, newest car as credit
accounts become maxed out. Sure you can.
Inevitably, it seems along with the debt comes
the vicious cycle of extra weight, exhaustion,
and stress. As everything spirals out of control,
there comes a point wherein you stop, breathe,
and take charge.
No one is going to make the gut–wrenching,
soul–searching decisions for you. No one. You
must become your own advocate, find your
voice, own you. Only you can shred the cards,
lose the weight. You have to take that first step
around the block, that first mile, that first 5k.
You have to close accounts, walk another path,
one step at a time. The journey is yours.
Patti, a friend of mine shares, “I have been
too embarrassed to post about my weight loss.
Three years ago, I had so many friends who
cheered me on to a weight loss of 48lbs. Then I
relapsed into letting food make me feel better.
The next 18 months I put on 55lbs, so I hid
and lived in denial. I had failed again. A couple
months ago my husband and I began a debt
snowball. We began thinking differently about
money. We began paying off debt. Six weeks
ago we changed our lifestyle. We changed how
we think about food. Today was weigh–in day. I
have lost 30 lbs and Bob 19. Why am I sharing
this? Because other friends may need a boost.
I have hope—hope that I will continue on with
what is right. Every day is a struggle. Every meal
is a struggle. How many other friends do I have
out there struggling over something you feel
you can’t fix?” If we’re honest, we all struggle in
different areas and must choose as did Patti to
get honest, get real, one step at a time.
Another minister of grace, my acupuncturist
Stephanie, who seeks to calm my crazy, reminds
of the significance of white space. As she watches
me take deliberate steps toward healing injuries
from a car accident, she encourages. Yet when
my schedule gets filled with more life, more
goals, more dreams, she warns. When white
space enters, I am reminded to let it. Feel it. Rest
there. Walk there. I find my white space tends to
become a vacuum that sucks in all the color of
my vivid dreams, determined goals. Some times
when life flies untethered, the frantic catching
up confuses the choice to let go. In the release—
release rather than accumulate! Open up the
white space, the water bottles, the windpipes —
and breathe.
I write from Deck 12 aboard the Independence
of the Seas by Royal Caribbean. Live music
serenades poolside where the children play,
piña coladas and strawberry daiquiris pass every
few minutes, yogurt cones from Sprinkles bring
smiles; there is plenty of white space amidst
the color on-board. The salty breezes blow; my
papers threaten a chase from my clipboard.
Deck chairs rest in straight, neat rows; I found
a chair on the end to spread my books and
scribbles. Two weeks from print deadlines, the
crunch time when the days race; words blur in
adrenaline; mind, body, soul strain, I escape
reality and head south to Costa Maya, Cozumel,
warm ports in Caribbean Seas. To my left, the
Captain guides the ship protecting his 7,400 on
board—5,400 guests, 2,000 crew. With this ratio,
no wonder the magnificence, the impeccable
care, the gracious service.
The path to this cornucopia of plenty was
full of dysfunction with a flat tire at midnight
then 2AM, an empty gas tank in the middle of
the interstate, a countdown towards missing
check–in. On board, however, a paradise of blue
skies and sunshine welcome honeymooners
and retirees without a care in the world. I laugh.
Life goes from the crazy to the comfortable, in
a few days back to the crazy. There is no telling
what the ride home will hold as we turned a 10
hour drive into 20 in the coming. Until then it’s
formal night in the dining room—a turquoise
dress the color of the sea; a taste of lobster,
steak, and shrimp with a salad; a sunset of
pinks and purples that promise a fiery golden
sunrise. All this color in the white space makes
life beautiful. In another paragraph or two we
could be shipwrecked, but until then, I’ll sip my
London black tea and enjoy the ride.
Remembering the words shared over dinner
rolls and butter, I smile. When my boys asked
me what I had done that day, I thought about it,
then answered, “Absolutely nothing!” Ha! I have
NEVER—EVER said those words in answer to an
entire day. I was quite proud of myself. Just wait
until I tell Stephanie, maybe she will spare a few
needles and use the smaller ones! I’ve earned
a little grace. Happy New Year! This is the year!
Make it yours! As you find your way, take one
step... then another.
“May the road rise up to meet you. May the
wind be always at your back. May the sun
shine warm upon your face; the rains fall
soft upon your fields and until we meet
again, may God hold you in the palm of His
hand.” (Traditional Gaelic Blessing)
"White Space"
No. 129 The Pinehurst Gazette, Inc. p.3