Monday, November 29, 2010

Weigh-In 63

Happy (late) Thanksgiving to you! I hope you had a great holiday.

We shared the time with family, including 4 generations of aunts, uncles, and cousins on my Dad's side. It was great to reconnect with family and share some of the same old stories of when we were younger. It was also incredible to share the new stories about kids, and grand kids (not mine!), and people that weren't part of the family last year.

This brought me back to a theme I've been on before: Story.

We all have a story. Some of us might have more than one story. We might not even know all of our story. There could be parts of the story that happened before we were even around or happened without us ever knowing about it. Or we may have just forgotten about some parts of it (for good or bad reasons).

In the mood of sharing stories with everyone, I mentioned that my right leg is about 1/2 inch shorter than my left leg (I'm not sure why this was relevant but it fit the conversation at the time so bear with me...). I passed it off as just one of those things. But my Dad was right there and said "And tell them why that leg is shorter..."

I just kinda looked at him and shrugged my shoulders. At which point, my father bean to tell a story that I had no memory of (even though I was the main character and point of the story).

As only Dad can, he spun the story of a 4 year old at a playground at the State Park in my hometown. This strapping lad had gotten a "for real and official" Batman costume, complete with cape, for his birthday and could not bear to part with it.

So, the scene is set with this 4 year old in full Batman regalia (don't forget the cape) at the playground. Enter our antagonist: The slide. But not just any slide. This monument to evil rose almost 12 feet off the ground with a ladder to rival that of a firetruck. It had the magnetic effect on a 4 year old boy that the Sirens had on the sailors in the Odyssey.

Step by step, inch by inch, the young Batman protege moved closer and started up the ladder. While the parents were right by the slide, they were in no way prepared for the next moments.

Standing atop the slide, surveying the playground as if it were the mean streets of Gotham City itself, the young man was filled with the confidence and power that only a utility belt and cape could bestow. Puffing up his chest (because that's what heroes do), he then leaped out into space to fly through his domain!

Wait... What?!?! "Batman can't fly!" I can hear some of you saying out there. Turns out, neither can a 4 year old boy, with or without a cape. What he can do, however, is hurtle to the ground from 12 feet up and manage to break his fall (so to speak) by getting one leg under him before the ground met him.

I don't recall those events at all. I don't remember the trip to the ER or being at the hospital. I don't even have recollection of the Batman costume. I do not remember the things that my Dad does about the even or the aftermath (like how I was worried that I had disappointed the real Batman with my failure to fly - C'mon! I was 4 years old!).

But my father remembers it. He recalls every anxious and agonizing second of my short lived flight. He has a memory of me laying on the ground screaming out. He also remembers picking me up and carrying me. Getting me help. But that's not the thing he keeps in his heart when he thinks of me. He doesn't define me by a slight limp or a medical bill that would have been hard to pay back then. My identity in his eyes is a beloved and cherished son.

And I believe that is how our heavenly Father sees us. Not the agony, exasperation, disappointment, anxiety, and pain. But as His beloved children. He knows our whole story, even if we don't, and loves us in spite of, and because of, the limp.

On to the numbers....

I was away from the "official scale" while we were traveling so I didn't get to weigh in until Mon morning. And I dutifully stepped up on the scale to see


All that good food and sharing stories over dessert caught up with me this week and I added a pound back. It's gonna be tough hitting the 210 in 2010 goal. I've got 33 days to drop these 8lbs to hit 210 before the new year. And this is one of the worst seasons for maintaining dietary discipline...

But we'll see how it goes. I appreciate all the encouragement and support this community has been giving me. Thank you all so much.


Photo credit to squeakymarmot.


Rachelle (Rose) said...

Awesome story and inspiring point!

Bubba said...

Thank you, ma'am.