A note to an old friend...

To my dear friend,

I remember the first time I met you.  Someone introduced you to me in the girls' locker room in 9th grade.  I wasn't sure where our friendship would lead but I felt a strange sense of pride and comfort standing there with you.

Over the next 4-5 years, we spent a lot of time together.  We changed together physically and emotionally.  You were never too fashionable, but neither was I.  Each new version of ourselves was better than the last though.

I loathed carrying you around during the summer, but loved your warm embrace in the winter.

You shared many laughs with me and our mutual friends.  Most of my closest friends were close friends with you too.  I still keep in touch with them today.

You held me close during some of my most fearful times as a teenager.  You were the Superman "S" when I needed confidence to perform under pressure.  Today I still remember your gentle encouragement every time I give a speech, every time I'm handling live animals, each time I get the opportunity to work the earth, and even when I'm experiencing tearful public disappointments.

The day we parted ways was a sad day.  I knew things between us would never be the same even though I'm privileged to still see you around today.  I've watched you embrace many other little ones, some of which I deeply love too.  I see you nurturing, protecting, and training them in the way only you can do.  

With convention coming up I can't help but think about you.  May you never fade away old friend.

I'm forever yours.  Forever Blue.

(A letter to my FFA jacket)

Letters from Lendy: Dear Jesus....

Dear Jesus,

It's me, Lendy again.  I always begin our convos like this and You always remind me You know who I am.  (Isaiah 43:1).  Thank You for this brief season of rest leading into the new year.  As I sit and reflect on this past year and all that I hope the new year brings, seal it in my heart and mind You are still King no matter what lies behind us or before us.  Thank You for all of the blessings...the new babies, nuptials, sweet time with family and friends, good health, and material provision given in the past year.  Thank You for walking with us (me) through the challenges and heartbreaks.  There have been quite a few.  As one woman so candidly put it, "I don't have to understand, my God understands for me." Takes a lot of pressure off of a weak vessel like myself.

We are on the cusp of a new year, another new season.  Rather than write out a list of my 2015 ambitions, I've sending up a list of petitions.  Lord please hear my petitions for myself and my loved ones:

• Please teach us to number our days.  To value and use each moment You have given us to Your glory. 
• Lord help us to leave the heavy lifting to You.  Let us set down our pride, ambitions, anxieties, hurts, our futures, and our pasts before the throne and trust that You will use it all for our good.
• Lord help us to be good stewards of the material provisions and spiritual gifts You have bestowed upon us.  
• Please help us to seek truth and discern it from the world's lies.
• Please teach us to love others as You do, extravagantly, and not according to the world's standards.  
• God, make us desperate to spend time in Your word and in prayer.  Make us thirsty for You.  
• Lord, heal those who are physically or spiritually hurting.  Please use us as Your hands and feet to help and support them as You see fit.
• Bless the seeds of truth You have planted in the hearts of unbelievers.  Please work through us to serve as salt and light to them and to those who have yet to hear Your gospel.  

Lord, there are lots of other petitions I could offer.  There are several specific items I could pray over.  People with sick family members in need of healing, those who have lost loved ones, people seeking employment, still other people seeking a fresh start and better days in the year ahead.  I know You're listening and we will visit over them as situations arise.  Given the dark days lately, I do want to close by asking for special protection over our country and a spirit of peace that goes beyond all understanding.  The hearts of so many are filled with hate these days.

We love and praise You,

LJ

There is something oddly peaceful about a hospital in the middle of the night.  The bright fluorescent lights are dimmed from suntan stun level to the homiest glow they can muster.  As I walk the deserted halls all I hear is deep breathing, soft beeping from some machines, and the steady hum of the air unit.  I'm thinking if I never see the inside of a hospital again that would still be too soon.  

Mikey's daddy is dying.  Very suddenly but also very slowly and painfully at the same time.  Mr. Johnson's past medical history is very complex and he is very fortunate that after 2 organ transplants he has lived an additional 17 years with fairly good quality of life.  It seems now that his body has just had enough and is turning against him for the last time through his blood.  It is amazing to me that here at the last he still knows who we all are, tells stories in detail about friends and family from the past, and is deeply concerned about our future once he, "goes home." He made me promise to take care of his "buddy." I only promised to not give him anymore gray hairs.  :) 

This has been a truly heartbreaking week.  Mrs. Johnson's quick diagnosis and death last Fall was tough, but this is worse if you can imagine that.  Mikey relies on his Daddy.  He calls him to ask questions.  They religiously discussed sports, especially racing, and they are both sickeningly in love with their iPads.  :)  When I had food poisoning last week, Mike slept on the couch while I puked my guts up and our little dog enjoyed my tainted chicken sandwich for the second time.  Less than a week later, I've witnessed the same man literally feed and help his Dad drink fluids since he can no longer do it for himself.  He has helped his Dad do things that most of us would blush even thinking about.  Mikey has gone with very little sleep or peace and had to face decisions this week that no one should ever have to face.  He has done it all without complaining and only letting his guard down in private.  I have so much respect for my husband's incredible strength and unselfishness in the face of such heavy burdens.

In typical fashion I'm trying to be strong and calm in the moment while I feel like I'm coming undone on the inside.  Aside from watching this physically and spiritually big and strong man slip away, it is soul crushing to me to watch Mikey endure yet another great loss.  I have to take long walks and get it out of my system.  Tonight I walked to the chapel.  Jesus and I ate a bag of baked cheddar ruffles sitting on the floor.  He listened while I cleansed my eyes and my soul for a good hour and after I was done He showed me some messages that other people had written to Him and left in the Chapel.  He was listening because these people were also discussing some of the very things I had laying on my heart.   

         

I begged for sweet mercy for Mr. Johnson and forgiveness for my ungratefulness.  Watching someone who is losing their life express how appreciative they are for material provision, of all the people they love or have loved along the way, and the second chances they were given (even those not taken) will convict and slap some sense into an ungrateful heart.  Lord, I've been living in a fog but I know someday I'll understand completely.  "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then I shall know just as I also am known."  

Please pray for my sweet Mikey and for his Daddy.  I know many of you already have been, and for that I am truly, deeply, sincerely, eternally grateful.

The Name Game

Today the elastic in my big girl panties broke and I decided to go public with the fact it frustrates me to no end when people do not take the time to understand that my name...however weird, unusual, or quirky it may be... is Lendy and that it is not ok when people do not take the time to call me that especially after I politely correct them multiple times.  WHEW! That was a mouthful.  First time offenders, fast food / Starbucks people that I never intend to see again...no harm no foul.  Everybody needs grace but when you are simply too lazy, too distracted, know me personally, have seen my name in print, or think that my name should be something other than what it is...the fact that you will not take the time to get my name right makes me feel disrespected.  My blood pressure hits the midway point which is high for my typical collected-ness.  The straw that broke the camel's back was this afternoon when I stopped in to check on a gift I ordered at a local store.  I had to complete an order form when I purchased it so my information was clearly on file.  The lady behind the counter asked for my name.  I politely , compliantly, and quietly (my public front) replied, "Lendy Johnson." After a few seconds she said, "I don't have a Wendy Johnson." Slight intake of breath..."It's Lendy.  L-e-n-d-y Johnson." Slight pause.  "I'm sorry ma'm I don't have Wendy or Lendy Johnson listed.  I do have Lindsay Johnson?" There are probably 1,000 Lindsay Johnson's in the greater Raleigh area but only 1 (maybe 2) Lendy's that I personally know of including myself.  Facepalm.  Sometimes my overactive imagination laughs at how I can get away with pretty much anything... I can just blame it on any one of my other identities Wendy, Lindsay, Linda, Leslie, Linday, Lyndee, Lindy, etc., etc.  Wendy and Lindsay are my go-to girl's when I want to be hateful.  Those are the names I get called the most.  God help the reputation of all you Wendy / Lindsay Johnsons out there. 

Ninety-five percent of the time I have difficulty dealing with the name game that I have played my entire life.  The other 5% offer some pretty entertaining stories.  I vividly remember coming home from vacation bible school at the age of 7 with a "Son" visor that we had glued little do-dads on during craft time.  Our teacher had wrote our names on the visors so we knew which one to take home.  She handed me my sun visor at the end of the day and while I recognized the fuzzy blue and yellow pom pom balls I had previously glued on I also noticed my name had changed to Linday.  I was so confused.  Was that my name now? Did she give me someone else's hat????  Where was my hat??? I was experiencing identity crisis / theft at age 7!! I still remember my Mama trying not to laugh as I cried about how my visor was lost or someone else took it after she explained that my name had not changed.  I refused to believe that my teacher had mispelled my name.   

My junior year of high school all of the cool kids were in the FFA and spent the majority of their time hanging out in the "ag department." My friends and I would eat lunch in the "ag office" or hang out in front of the building between classes.  Everyone knew everyone and as juniors we thought we were too cool for many of the freshmen who tried to come in and earn their spot on our turf.  There was a freshmen boy that always hung out after Agriscience class that got unmercifully picked on for not being the, "sharpest tool in the shed" but he did (does) have a kind heart.  One day he shyly admitted to one of my girlfriends that he had a big crush on a hot upper classman.  He said, "Uh well I think her name is Wendy... Wendy Beaman." I never lived that one down.  My friends got a riot out of this and so Wendy Beaman has messages written to her in my senior yearbook.  :)   

In the heat of my frustration I posted a status on Facebook announcing my hate of the name game.  I found out quickly that there are many of you that feel my pain.  Even people with seemingly "normal" names battle folks calling them pet names or nicknames that they never wanted.  There are people that go by abbreviated names or nick names that battle folks wanting to call them by their "formal" name.  I have to admit that I am the worst for giving people pet names.  My poor husband Mike has been permanently branded by most of my friends as "Mikey." I have a close friend I refer to as "boo." Another good friend I shared an office with is my "wifey" even though we are happily married, straight ladies.  I have several Jennifers that became Jenn's.  My dog's name is Bella but we call her "Pookie." At work there is Mac Daddy, Ms. Tripp, Meg, Shon, Real-lo... wow that makes us sound like a gang rather than a group of professionals.  If anyone out there that has been given a title they didn't like...please let it be made known.  There is no room for politeness on this issue.  I would hate to make anyone feel the consternation I feel when people don't get my name right.... and obviously others feel the same way. 

Here's a kernel of truth / my unsolicited advice on this issue...If you don't know how to pronounce a person's name or know what they want to be called...my suggestion would be to just ask.  It may feel awkward but most likely they'll appreciate it and you won't feel like an idiot when they correct you.  If you do mess up and get their name wrong, have the decency to pay attention (hard right?) and get their name right the next time.     

If at first you don't succeed...tri..tri..again

If you follow or read any of my social media then you know the past year has been a time of transformation of some sorts. I have never been a "little girl." I'll never forget during my first year of teaching, one of my students from the sticks referred to me as being "corn fed." All you ag people out there understand the difference between grain fed beef and grass fed beef.  I’m not opening an argument of which one tastes better…just saying.  I have always struggled with my body image and particularly my weight / size. At some point during my graduate career I was able to finally level off and settle into a size that I felt looked good but maybe wasn't as small as I would like. Let me rephrase...I may have been small enough but definitely was not concerned with how soft I was. When I started my job at the Bureau people teased me constantly, "Wait until you put on the FB 15 (pounds)." (Think college freshmen 15). One of girlfriends was quick to say try the FB 60. I swore then and there that I would have no part of a FB 15 or FB 60. But as the weeks wore on and meeting after meeting there was nothing but country cooking or fancy meals and soft cushy chairs or long truck rides I began to notice a difference in how my clothes fit and not in a good way. I decided I needed to do something and quick.

About 5 years ago Mike and I were at the State Farmers Market picking up some fresh veggies and I noticed all of these women milling around me with race bibs and bright pink shirts, shorts, shoes, costumes, etc. They had just finished the Race for the Cure...one of the largest attended 5K runs in the triangle area that is a charity run for breast cancer research. I had never put much thought into running...honestly I never thought I could run but something about all these ladies training and running for a purpose got my brain to turning.

It took me several years and some tight jeans to stir my memories of those 5K finishers one night as I desperately started looking for a gym, personal trainer, something to help me battle the bulge. My mom had been recently diagnosed with Type II diabetes and I knew that the risk for me was now a reality. I needed a long term action plan. I googled and found a local running coach who had great reviews for helping new runners. I wasn't a new runner at that point...more like remedial. I e-mailed her sort of hoping that she would accidentally not get my e-mail but low and behold she e-mailed me the next day, excited to meet with me the following week. We met on a cold March morning in 2012. They had called for sleet and ice first thing and I was desperately hoping she would cancel and reschedule. No..no...I met her at the Neuse River Trail at 6:30am bundled in cotton and fleece...terrible attire to run in but I didn't know that at the time. Other things I didn't know...how weak I was and maybe most importantly how to eat properly before running. I was fine for the first mile running and walking at intervals but about halfway through our second mile I realized I had some serious ish. The bottom of my gut was about to drop out.  The Neuse River Trail is pretty but without any bathroom facilities.  It also borders several expensive neighborhoods in the Wakefield area of Raleigh. There was a black canvas wall blocking out a tree protection area off the trail a little ways. I hurdled myself over the canvas and yes I straight did my business in the wooded area behind someone's multi-million dollar home. I joke with my friends that I'm sure someone had a glare on their security camera from my white rear-end shining. I'm also sure the other people on the trail were impressed with how totally obvious I was. Needless to say it was a very humbling moment in my life. On the way back over the canvas wall following my moment...I caught my yoga pants on a spike. It didn't tear my pants but it tore my thigh. Karma much?

I left that day thinking I would never see my running coach again or really wanting to run. For someone who is as competitive and afraid of failure as I am...that morning was a total disaster, cluster, trainwreck, hot mess, etc, etc.  I ran on and off a little...ALONE....throughout the rest of March and in to April.  I ended up running (mostly walking) in an Autism Awareness 5K in my hometown at the end of April. While I do hate failure and rejection, etc... I'm not a quitter. I looked up the race results after the 5K and was seriously displeased with my time. I don't know what I expected...I hadn't really trained...but it did light the fire back under me to start working again. I contacted my running coach and we've been working together ever since. We don't necessarily meet up very often but we talk at least once a week.

I trained through last summer and fall and ran my first half marathon in February. I cannot tell you the joy I felt crossing that finish line!! I was also shocked and humbled at how many people supported my training despite the fact that they may not like to run themselves. My time for the race wasn't close to what I had hoped and I often feel discouraged when I see how my other friends have progressed so quickly with their training and their race times but I'm trying to keep in mind that my ultimate goal was to be healthy and have fun...not to be some elite athlete. I would like to work my way up to having better race times and more strength but these things take time and discipline. I'm pretty sure God is trying to teach me some patience and perseverance.

Next Sunday is my first triathlon. The change in my training and mandatory strength training have been a good change of pace from simply running but I'm not expecting to break any records or even finish midway in the pack. I'm just going for a finish... until the next one.  If I can get out there and pretend to be somewhat athletic I’m pretty sure anyone that has any gumption or desire whatsoever to do something physical can get out there and get it done.  One of my running buddies says, “Don’t worry about how slow or dumb you look, you’re lapping everybody on the couch.”