Category: Coping with an Aging Body (Page 3 of 3)

Physical Limitations

October 9, 2017 / juliesc@pacbell.net / 10 Comments

I just can’t do as much as I once did. If I try to push myself too hard, I become dangerously tired and need to recuperate for days. I realize that cannot get through the day without relying on God. My own power will not be enough.

This might seem horrible to an outsider, but I choose to embrace it. It keeps me in relationship with my faithful God, allows me to slow down and savor life, and reminds me that at the end of my life I’ll be trading in this weak and limited “earth suit” for a new and perfect body that will last through eternity.

This post is part of a 31 Day Blogging Challenge entitled Embracing Fifty. Please click here to find all the posts in this series. You can find the work of more bloggers participating in this series here. You’ll be glad you did!

Wrinkles

October 7, 2017 / juliesc@pacbell.net / 2 Comments

I love to laugh. I love to be in the sunshine. I.m not a plastic surgery, Botox, or serum kind of gal, so the result as I approach fifty are some fine lines around the corners of my eyes and around my smile area that previously did not exist. I know I could research the best way to eradicate these from my face so I would appear years younger, but I’m proud of my wrinkles. I’ve earned every one of them through years of smiling and experience. It is a sign that I have enjoyed life and lived on the edge. My wrinkles seem to multiply as my body weight decreases. It shows a life well-lived. I don’t know how I’ll feel about them when I am 90, but for now I will enjoy my wrinkles!

Aging Gracefully with my Husband

October 5, 2017 / juliesc@pacbell.net / 2 Comments

My beloved husband and I met at the end of our teens and now have known each other for over 30 years. In that time, we have changed quite a bit from immature teenagers to parents-in-law turning 50. When we were first getting to know each other in the years of big hair and endless energy, I don’t think we ever considered that the time would come when our knees would crack, our backs would ache, our hairlines would recede, our eyesight would fade, and our strength would diminish, but each of those changes has occurred in the Clark house.

Yet when I look across the room at that distinguished man who became my husband, I embrace the changes. We can lament and laugh together as gravity and age reshape our bodies. Instead of staring at each other with rose-colored glasses, I have to grab my purple frames for distance and hubby grabs his readers. We can always tell when the other one is getting out of bed because of the groans and cracks. We understand one another’s exhaustion at the end of day.

We may not look like we did in the late 1980s, but we’ve earned every gray hair, wrinkle, muscle ache, and cracking joint. There’s still nobody I’d rather have by my side.

Introduction to Embracing Fifty

October 2, 2017 / juliesc@pacbell.net / 0 Comments

In two months and seven days, I will celebrate my 50th birthday. I’m shocked that it is coming so soon. I remember when the age of 23 seemed ancient, and now I’ve more than doubled that. As milestone birthdays approach, I reflect back on all that has happened in my life and look forward to the years to come. More than ever before, I want to use my life strategically to love all I can, influence all I can, and leave a legacy that will outlast my lifetime. I can’t wait to ponder and share my heart about the aspects that are nearest and dearest to me. Come visit me for the next 30 days, and together we’ll explore how to live a life that counts!

Life is a Gift!

June 20, 2017 / juliesc@pacbell.net / 0 Comments

Today marks another anniversary that will always stick out in my mind. It may not sound like a positive experience, but it truly was a gift that redefined my life.

Three years ago today started as a fairly normal day with house chores, going out to lunch with a friend, then preparing to go to work. Then the day took a dramatic turn….I suddenly felt complete fatigue and collapsed on the coach. As the day progressed, so did my weakness, until I couldn’t move from the couch and I was struggling to swallow and breathe. It was frightening yet not totally unfamiliar. At the age of nineteen, I had been diagnosed with a neuromuscular disorder called myasthenia gravis. I had experienced bouts of weakness over the past 25 years, but this one felt the most severe. My husband was immersed in a project with a swiftly impending deadline, so I didn’t want to bother him, but I knew that I needed more help than rest on a couch could provide.

A few hours later, due to an insistent phone call from our daughter, Darren took me to the emergency room, and I was admitted to the neuro ICU and hooked up to a number of machines, especially one to help me breathe. Once I was settled there, Darren needed to go home and finish the project. I was still fully conscious, and my thoughts were beeping and whirring around in my head much like the machines that surrounded me. How had my life changed so profoundly in the course of a few hours? I’d always thought of the Intensive Care Unit as a place where people don’t often exit alive. Was the end of my time on earth near for me?

As I lay alone, I heard an electronic melody and immediately identified it as “Brahm’s Lullaby,” a song my mother had sung to me as a child. Was Mom sending me a message from heaven, calling me to join her? I later found out that the hospital PA system plays the song each time a baby is born in the maternity unit!

I reflected on my life…I had graduated both high school and college, married the love of my life, experienced motherhood with both a son and a daughter, and watched those two children graduate from both high school and college. Would this be the complete experience of my life? How would people remember me? I still had so much more I wanted to do with my life!

I received the blessing of a second chance. I stayed five days in the hospital before gaining enough strength to be released. The summer of 2014 was a limited one, spent mostly in a wheelchair at my dining room table with my Bible and a journal. I memorized the book of Philippians and found out just how much God loved me. He loved me so much that He didn’t want me living an over-stuffed, stressful life but instead one filled with purpose and love.

Three years later, I am in the best condition of my life–both physically and emotionally. Each day is a challenge to see just how many people I can make a difference with, care for, and love. I know firsthand that tomorrow is not assured, so I choose to live each day like it is the most precious gift that I could ever receive.

The Race Set Before Me

May 8, 2017 / juliesc@pacbell.net / 0 Comments

I moved from California to Ohio between my freshman and sophomore years of high school and joined the cross country team to become involved in my new school. I had never been a fast runner, but in my unrealistic teenage thinking, my change of location would make me the fastest one on the team. I was the slowest member of the team, and I experienced significant knee pain. My high school cross country career ended after one season in 1983, and I never thought I’d run a race again.

One of our first races together!

My husband began running for exercise and recreation in the fall of 2009 when our children were in their senior year of high school. He enjoyed it, but I resented the time and money he spent on his new hobby. I had allowed the excuse of busyness and raising a family derail me from a regular exercise routine, and I had steadily put on nearly 80 pounds since my cross-country days. Running was the last thing on my mind or to-do list. Nearly three years later, when he couldn’t run a 5k for which he had registered, he asked me if I would walk it with him. I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. In fact, as I approached the finish line, I joyfully broke out into a sprint over the finish line. I was hooked!

On my first solo run, I could only run one block before I had to stop and walk. I would head out a few days a week and increase my distance each time. I finally could start running 5k races. My husband was supportive, and it strengthened our marriage that we could share this hobby, even though he was much faster than I was. He began running half-marathons and even a full marathon, but I was content to jog no further than 3.1 miles.

After some severe health setbacks, I became determined to complete longer distances. My husband and I signed up to walk a half marathon as he recovered from injury and I recovered from illness. We crossed the finish line of the Running with the Bears half marathon in 4 hours and 23 minutes on August 15, 2015. Since then I’ve gone on to run a number of 10k races and 2 more half marathons.

Crossing the finish line of my first half-marathon!

Crossing the finish line of my second half-marathon exactly one year later. What a difference a year makes!

It isn’t easy to lace up my running shoes in the early morning when I’d rather be in my warm, comfortable bed, but I’ve never regretted the decision to exercise once I’m dressed and out on the road. I have dropped 60 pounds and gained great confidence. The stress melts away as my feet move to the beat of the worship music playing in my wireless headphones. I’ll never be the fastest, leanest runner of the pack, but I am faster and leaner than I used to be, and I am thankful to run the race set before me.

Pure joy on my face after shaving 33 minutes off my personal record for my half-marathon!

A Different Kind of Easter

April 17, 2017 / juliesc@pacbell.net / 0 Comments

Our children up at Grandma Lu’s house on Easter, 1996.

It’s Easter afternoon, and just my husband and I are home. We did not have an egg hunt or a make your own pizza party as we have in years past. We gave the kids and significant others their Easter gifts in reusable bags on Tuesday when we met for lunch. We’ve napped on and off this afternoon. I am just beginning to smell a delicious glazed ham baking in the oven. It has been such a peaceful day, focusing on why we celebrate this holiday.

It may seem odd that we aren’t spending it with our children. For the first Easter in her life, our daughter does not live in the same town as we do. She and her fiance are involved in church activities, and school resumes after Spring Break tomorrow. They have enough going on in their lives without insistent parents demanding that they come up to visit for the second time in a week. Our son does live in town, but he is involved at his church and is a staff member in a college ministry. His day was busy, and hanging out with mom, dad, and the pets in his childhood home isn’t the most exciting way to spend Easter.

We could have driven the 90 miles up to my in-laws’ house in the rain, but my husband had a busy morning helping with children’s ministry at church. He ran sixteen miles yesterday, and I ran ten. Our bodies are tired. It feels so good to rest. Monday morning will start with a bang in just over 14 hours, and we are finding that our weeks run so much more smoothly if we have taken the time to fully decompress and prepare for the coming weeks on the weekends.

We do look forward to many special times spent with our children and the families they will create, but we have learned to choose our battles in parenting. whether our children are three years old or 23 years old. We treasure the memories we have of all the Easters we have spent together, but for today, it feels wonderful to put our feet up, savor the silence, and thank God for sending His Son to pay the penalty for our sins and triumph over death. Happy Resurrection Day to each of you, however you celebrate it!

The Day My World Hit the Cement

April 6, 2017 / juliesc@pacbell.net / 8 Comments

This past Monday started out like any regular day, but I don’t think I’ll forget it for the rest of my life. I woke up and began preparing for a full day when I received a text from my mother-in-law that she would be in town. We only see her 6 or 7 times a year, so we wanted to make her visit a priority. My husband had already made arrangements to take the day off work because we had more than the usual activities going on that day. My daughter’s fiance’s parents were coming to town for lunch, to look at the wedding venue, and to scout out a place for the rehearsal dinner, and we were joining them. In addition, my husband had a doctor appointment, a lawn care person coming to the house to help us rescue our lawn, and a late afternoon training run for his upcoming marathon. I had my usual Monday schedule of walking 3.75 miles with the moms from my Mornings for Moms group at 8:30am and meeting with two friends for Bible Study at 10:30am.

It was a beautiful day for a walk through Bidwell Park’s lush foliage. We had never seen so many butterflies in one morning. My three friends and I were engaged in conversation about the joys and trials of family life. I tried to stay in the moment, but I was a bit on edge with our late start to our walk and the full afternoon awaiting me. As we rounded the last corner before heading to our cars, I stumbled over a piece of bark, causing my ankle to give way and hurling me toward the sidewalk face first. I didn’t have time to react before hitting the ground with a sickening thud. I pushed myself up to a sitting position and noticed the scrape on my sunglasses, the concerned looks on my friends’ faces, and the blood dripping onto the cement from my mouth and chin. I ran my tongue along my upper jaw and felt two teeth dangling precariously. The pain throbbed throughout my body.

My friends sprung into motion as Carol called her dentist to see if we could rush me in, Tiffany gave me her baby wipes and prayed for me, and Lori bandaged my largest wounds. Within minutes, I was in Carol’s Suburban heading to the dentist, stunned by how my day had derailed. The next hour was spent in a dentist’s chair as the dentist and his assistant fought to save my teeth and stitched up a gaping hole inside my mouth. My mind raced with thoughts of the effect this would have on my week and life.

I did not join my daughter’s future in-laws on the afternoon outing, but I did visit with my mother-in-law and her best friend. I expressed my hope to be teaching again by Wednesday morning and have everything back to normal. I awoke Tuesday with a groan as my body shouted in protest from head to toe. My reflection frightened me with abrasions littering my face. I knew it would be a long week.

Two days later, muscle relaxants are my friends. I have not yet resumed my normal activities and am not sure when I will able to again. Sleep is uncomfortable. I have only left the house to go to Prompt Care and the chiropractor. I still don’t look like myself. Eating is difficult at best.

We never know what will occur in our lives from day to day. We can’t emotionally budget for the unexpected, but we have to accept it as it comes. When hard times come, we have to look for the lessons in them and how much worse it could be.

How was your life changed by unexpected circumstances this week?

Resisting Busyness

March 22, 2017 / juliesc@pacbell.net / 0 Comments

Image result for stop the glorification of busy quote

It is the middle of the afternoon, and I am wearing slippers. I am so tempted to throw on shoes and run errands. After all, I have Kohl’s cash burning a hole in my wallet and a major sale at Family Christian Stores beckoning me. But it’s Wednesday.

Wednesday mornings are one of my favorite mornings of the week. I have the honor of teaching 11 four, five, and six year old children from the Bible book of John for two hours at Bible Study Fellowship. This morning, we drew, built with Duplos, talked about all that had happened since before Spring Break, flew like jets to and from the bathroom, did fingerplays, heard a story about how Jesus prayed for us just before he went to the cross, had an indoor snowball fight with pantyhose stuffed with cotton, worshiped God, ate snack, shared a few quiet moments before God, played Looby Loo and Mulberry Bush, and skipped. As my children were waving goodbye, a group of four two year olds came in to play for a few minutes while their loved ones finished cleaning their classrooms. Needless to say, my body complained the whole way home.

Wednesday evenings are one of my favorite evenings of the week. We get to eat dinner with our son who lives in town and any extra college students he brings. We haven’t seen him in two weeks and love laughing and catching up with him and his friends at family dinner. Then my sweet hubby and I head off to Wednesday evening church. After we get home at nine, we wind down by watching Jeopardy and Survivor.

In order to live life at full speed for my Wednesday mornings and Wednesday evenings, I must make the decision to keep my Wednesday afternoons quiet. I texted my friend, Nancy, in the early afternoon to tell her of my temptation to run errands and my resolve not to do it, and she commended me for “resisting busyness.” I like those words!

Busyness is a status symbol for today’s women. How often do we answer, “Busy” when asked, “How are you?” Is busy best? If we have fifty events on the calendar this week, are we more spiritual or better than those who only who have five or three or one?

My father taught me the acronym for busy when I was a young woman, and I am still learning this for myself and applying it to my own life.

Buried

Under

Satan’s

Yoke

I am so guilty of getting on my own hamster wheel and thinking I will progress if I just run a little faster, but the faster I go, the more I have to keep up with a frantic pace. This is so unhealthy for my body, mind, and soul!

How do you resist busyness?

I Don’t Feel Old Enough

March 14, 2017 / juliesc@pacbell.net / 7 Comments

Tomorrow I am going to drive myself down to Winters to the childhood home of my daughter’s fiance, Joe, to spend the day with Joe’s mom for her birthday. We plan to go out to lunch and try on dresses for our children’s wedding coming up in July. After we finish our fun day together, I will drop her off then drive over to my daughter’s house to spend the night with her. All of it sounds very wonderful, and I’m really looking forward to it.

Then what could be the problem?

Although my outward appearance proves otherwise, inside I barely feel old enough to be married, let alone old enough to have a daughter getting married. I’m not one of those women who normally does the whole “lunch and shopping” kind of day, yet I know that this will bring Joe’s mom and I closer together and help us get ready for this wedding. I am still surprised I am considered grown up enough to be out on my own, yet my 23-year old daughter is living in a different town, successfully navigating her way through her first year of teaching. I still feel so young and uncertain inside, much like a young teenager.

But in a few short months, I will be celebrating my 50th birthday! The wrinkles congregating in the corners of my eyes and my cracking knees testify to this fact.

I’m wondering when I will ever feel fully grown up in my heart of hearts. When will I have the confidence to believe that I am really an adult?