Recently, I did something that I haven’t done in quite some time – something I’m embarrassed to admit as a now 3-time published author; I read a book from cover to cover. It felt so good to read one book that I finished another, the same day I finished the first.
There’s a good amount of shame and embarassment as to why I haven’t been able to finish a book in nearly a decade. In some ways, it’s equally embarassing that I’ve published more books than I’ve read – and comprehended – fully. Ten years. I lost ten years of my mind, life, memory and presence because I chose alternate methods of occupying my mind; things that never fed me as much as I fed them.
Today was one of the hardest days I’ve had this year. I woke up at 3:30am, only to be more permanetly woken up at 5am when Atlas decided it was time to start the day.
Before he woke up, I could tell that I was void of peace. For the last two weeks, I’ve battled this gnawing feeling in my gut, stemming from feeling unheard, unappreciated and trampled on by others who seem to want far more from me than the the scraps they offer in return.
Logically, I can justify the feeling of being unheard as it pertains to Atlas. As a four year-old, I don’t expect him to have a 1:1 track record for following my instructions. What got under my skin involved a number of relationships – personal and profressional – that seemed to follow this trend of steamrolling me in conversation, being cut-off while I spoke, or having no sense of boundaries during communication.
In the nature of being transparent, I have to admit that I’ve battled something internally for many years; a deep-rooted belief that I would follow in the footsteps of my Dad – dying an early death due to health complications. Part of me deeply feared that I’d one day hit a brick wall of cancer or heart disease, while another part of me believed the lie that it was unstoppable fate.
“It’s a mighty thin pancake that doesn’t have two sides” my Dad was known for saying. In this respect, the other side of the premature death ‘coin’ have been genes that work substantially well in my favor. For Plaats, it seems like we don’t have to do much to put on muscle, stay trim or have tremendous amounts of energy as soon as we wake up. If any of these things aren’t present, it’s an indicator that we’ve fallen off the wagon of being laxadasicaly active in the realm of fitness or diet. I was.
A few months ago, I felt as if I were able to articulate and recognize my own fear/narrative that I’d follow in my Dad’s footsteps. Just as clearly as I was able to discover it was there, I felt one question – and an answer – arise in my spirit:
“What are you going to do about it?” followed by “You’ve got a choice in the matter.”
I spent years wondering why my Dad didn’t take better care of his health, wondering how a Father of six could let himself go in all of the ways that contributed to his death. In my case, I pondered this question while eating yet another Domino’s pizza.
“You’ve got a choice in the matter.”
I deleted the Dominos app and traded in my beloved handmade pan pepperoni pizza’s for a 35lb kettlebell, which I later upgraded to a gym membership and 1-2 daily gym visits during my days away from Atlas – prompted largely by a question he asked me one night, after a few weeks of getting lazy with the kettlebell:
“Dad, why did your arms get skinny?’
Out of the mouth of babes…
That question from Atlas might have saved my life. Of all of the voices that might have told me that I ‘look great’ – there was one voice and opinion that truly mattered, and wasn’t afraid to speak the cold, hard truth.
“Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.”
Atlas asking me that question was like taking a cold plunge in Lake Erie in the middle of January. It wasn’t a comfortable question. However, it shocked some sense into me – while reminding me that he is always watching (and noticing) his Dad.
Jesus once told a parable about how a man let a stranger into his house, who then went on to invite in seven more strangers. This parable represents the cancer-like way that sin (and the demonic realm) operates. In similar fashion, one good choice leads to many more that follow.
Putting down pizza resulted in picking up the iron. Picking up the iron resulted in me putting down the vape(s). Putting down the vape(s) resulted in having a clear mind to focus, write, read and see things clearly for what they were/are, rather than though a foggy haze of compromise.
I see clearly now. I’m not looking to the left or to the right, as much as I am the finish line – and I’m sprinting wholeheartedly in that direction now to the arms of my Father who is cheering me on with every stride. I’m not worried about what others think of me as I take radical steps toward Jesus, nor am I ashamed to speak that name or proclaim His power.
Every day I see a new glimmer of hope, God’s mercy and purification as I reject what was once, while sprinting toward the future God has for me, no longer content to be who I was the day before, or surrounded by the crowds I once followed instead of the difficult and lonely walk Jesus made to Golgotha.
As sister J once said:
“Every day is a beautiful day.”
No Comments