Weightlifting for the Soul

Today I looked at the clock and had a very pleasant surprise. It was 4:30pm. I love it when the day goes by and I don’t feel each minuet tick by. Lately I’ve had a lot more to do, which while bad for blogging is really good for my sanity. I’m really enjoying the recent changes at work and really enjoy working with my new boss. I’m feeling really blessed right about now. I think it’s important to take a few steps back every now and then to evaluate just how much God had done. In my case that would be a lot. I feel like I could sit here and gush for the next hour on how great God is and how awesomely he has blessed me. I think that’s probably the case for most people, but recognizing the blessing can sometimes be a missed step. I went through some stuff to land me where I am today, at the time I was not at all happy with what was going on. But now, I can see that it was all for a purpose and I’d do it all over again. If you knew me in February, you would not have heard me say that. But I would, I’d do it all again. Hard times are just weightlifting for the soul.

Took it all Gone

In my house growing up there was a commonly sung song called “took it all gone”. Looking back, I realize my mom is really funny. Whenever my brother or myself would finish the box of cereal, my mom would break into a rendition of the song going something like this “Laura took it all gone, Laura took it all gone” or “Jeffey took it all gone, Jeffey took it all gone”. Being 3 years younger, I loved the song, but my brother hated it and would start to yell at my mom when she started singing it. It was a battle that took place often. My mom eventually decided to compromise with my brother and only sing the song to me when I had taken the last of the cereal, but in the end it just made my brother mad that he was no longer getting a song. That was a lose lose for my mom. I suppose my brother had been hearing the song for an additional 3 years compared to me and was sick of it. I just used to bop my head to the song and enjoy. There was however a song that I didn’t like, it was how my mom would wake me up in the morning. She would lift the blinds and sing “Good morning to Warwa, Good morning to Warwa”. I have always hated being woken up, I don’t think it was the songs fault. My dad had a different style for waking me up in the morning that I hated way more than the song. He would open my door and flick the light on and off and say “wake up, wake up, wake up”. It makes me feisty just thinking about it right now. I think the moral to my story today is: Don’t wake me up, I hate it.