Monday, May 21, 2012

Abundance

Our family just got back from vacation.  While I spent the days leading up to it doing laundry, packing, re-packing and cleaning the house, my husband worked away at his latest project:  an irrigation system.  He was literally tweaking and testing that thing up until the minute we left for the airport.  We crossed our fingers and hoped that it would keep our garden alive while we were away.   

Eight days later (with not a drop of rain) we got home and rushed to the backyard.  We were amazed. Not only did our garden survive, it flourished.  

I sat and stared.  


Because isn't that what we all want?  To flourish.  It's not a coincidence.  We don't grow on accident.  

I'm new to this gardening thing.  I don't know all the lingo or the tricks for ensuring success, but here's what I have learned.

Soil.  It breathes life or births disease. You can spray and weed and fight, but if the soil isn't rich, if the foundation isn't healthy, we will not thrive.  

Water.  Often times, especially here in the Pacific Northwest, nature takes care of the watering.  But when the dry spells come, when the days are long and hot, you get out that hose and water (you even build an irrigation system if you have to).  One way or the other, we need to be watered.  

Light.  Even when it's gray, the sun is shining.  The clouds eventually clear.  The darkness passes and we grow.  

What happens when all these things work together?  

Abundance.  











And from the harvest...

Caesar Salad - romaine from the garden
(dressing:  1/4 cup olive oil, 3 cloves garlic minced, 1 lime, salt and pepper to taste, Parmesan cheese)

Kale Smoothie (aka: my daily breakfast):
1 cup almond milk, 1/2 banana, Shaklee Cinch Protein, 3 kale leaves, 1 T ground flaxseed, 1 t almond or peanut butter,
1 cup ice.  Blend and enjoy!

Wishing you abundance,
Kim 


Sunday, May 20, 2012

A Familiar Face

Yesterday my family and I went to a birthday party. As soon as we arrived I saw someone who looked oddly familiar.  I couldn't place him at first.  He said hello and shook my hand.  The sound of his voice alone made my mind race and emotions swell.  Who was he?  How did I know him?  He was out of place.  Out of context.  Until I heard his name.

It was my neurosurgeon.  The doctor who stood at the side of my hospital bed explaining my options, the procedures.  The one who nodded silently as I cried.  He left a mark - a two inch scar on my back where he removed lesions from my spine.  I haven't seen him since.

Thank you, God.

Needless to say, hearing his voice and seeing his face brought back a lot of memories.  He remembered my husband and me and asked how I was doing.  I got a little choked up when I looked him in the eye and responded, "I'm doing great."  Because really, I am.  Seeing him reminded me how thankful I am for that.  A part of me wanted to sit him down and re-live bits and pieces of the last twenty months.  I wanted to bring back to life the pain, the fear and the uncertainty.  I wanted to walk him through the journey that followed - the seeking, the fighting, the believing, the healing.  But instead, I smiled, took a deep breath and nodded my head.  Somehow I think he understood.

All I know is that I wanted to get home and write.  I wanted to see the words - black and write, running across the page.  I wanted to come back to where it all started.  I wanted, needed, to write.

Because hope cannot be contained.  Should not be contained.

So let me say this.  I am not doing well on accident.  I didn't get lucky.   I made changes to every part of my life.  I learned to be weak, to be strong. I fought for my future, my faith, my family.  I read everything I could get my hands on.  I juiced.  I fasted.  I believed. I made tough decisions. I surrounded myself with amazing people.  I prayed - for purpose.  I chose joy.  I gave thanks.

I don't forget the nights I poured over my keyboard with tears in my eyes or the days I was angry and frustrated and in pain.  But for now, I am reminded how far we have come and for that, I am thankful.



With love, 
Kim