Jesus Loves Me This I Know

Happy Easter!

I thought I’d share the story of how Jesus came to be my Savior.

I always had a thing for God as a child. I liked reading my children's bible. I liked going to church. We grew up a Catholic: I liked the smell of the church, I like to kneel and genuflect, I like to pray, I like to sing, I liked taking holy communion. I did not like confessing my sins. That meant I was in trouble (again). 

I was teaching aerobics in 1980 at a health club. One of my clients, JoAnn Ripp asked me if I would teach her my class. She was going to start a ‘Christian’ aerobics class with Kim Singletary (Mike Singletary’s wife) at Willow Creek Community Church in South Barrington. Willow Creek was a newer seeker-sensitive, non-denominational church. I agreed but wondered how the heck could you do an aerobics class to Ava Maria and Hymns. At the time, the music I used was Michael Jackson, Donna Summers, or Blondie.

JoAnn showed up with a stack of Christian albums: Keith Green, Amy Grant. The upbeat songs surprised me.

Out of nowhere, without even knowing why, I said, “What’s all this Born Again stuff?” We sat down on the carpet and she explained to me the Gospel. To this day, I don’t remember what she said or what it all initially meant. They were just words to me.

As fate would have it, that night, Willow Creek was celebrating something (I think their 5^th Anniversary). JoAnn said, “If I can get you there tonight, would you be willing to come to this event at Willow?” Getting me out of the house, to a religious event, without my parents freaking out, was going to be difficult. However, she got Nancy Plank, the wife of Chicago Bears, Doug Plank to pick me up in her sporty convertible. I also knew Nancy since she was a member at the health club where I worked. It was a perfect connection. It was a perfect night.

I can remember where I sat, up front and close to the stage. The room was large, no obvious religious symbols, and the vibe was electric. Before anything even started I noticed one thing that struck me and altered the course of my life; everyone in the room looked joyful and at ease. I thought, “I don’t know what these people have but I want it.” I had never experienced the pure happiness of people gladly being together. I realized we were created to live in community large and small (at least that is what my innate intuition told me). I was at peace and I had a deep need to belong to something safe and jubilant. The contrast with my home and personal life couldn’t have been more obvious.

I would have considered myself a happy person by nature. But by the time I was 17, my life was complicated and stressful.

My home life was filled with lots of spoken and unspoken tension and strife. I was always on my parents Shit-List. My grades were reflective of what was going on in my heart. However, nobody asked deeper, compassionate questions to why I was distracted and struggling. I was just told I was lazy, stupid, and I’d never amount to much. I was already having sex and madly in love (as all promiscuous 17 year olds are at that age). I was full of insecurities, jealousies, and fears. I was a social butterfly and Pollyanna on the outside, but James Dean on the inside. 

God speaks to us in different ways. He knows what we need. God used music to get my attention and show me the love and forgiveness of Jesus through music. That night, there was no sermon or homily. The music was alive. The people were alive. There was even an Elvis impersonator on stage. Laughter filled the room. Oh I needed to laugh. I could feel the vibration of joy in my being (now, granted, I could have felt the same thing if I went to a Grateful Dead concert).  However, the musical message wasn’t about rebelling or tuning out. It was about this remarkable, intentional love of God—for me! 

God loved me. That was mind blowing because I didn’t think anyone really loved me. At times, when hurt or angry, I could be pretty unlovable. Later that night, by myself in my car, I remember crying (heaving sobs) of repentance for my sins. I knew I was a sinner. I had been told that I was bad most of my life in one-way or another. But this was different. This was an invitation to let go of what I was carrying: my shame, my guilt, and my fears. I felt spiritually cradled in my Heavenly Fathers arms as he held me, and listened, and understood every stupid, wrong, sinful thing I did up until that point.

Only God knew how much my epically flawed self needed to feel protected. Repenting is easy when you feel safe.  I had never been so purified by unburdening my heart. From that time on, Jesus, the kind and gentle forgiver of my sins, became my Savior and Lord. I don’t know how to do life without God. 

Yes there was the hell issue back then. I also didn’t want to go to hell. But over the years, hell became less and less an issue of fear for me. My religious training was Jesus came to this earth to show us who God is incarnate—to show us love and grace. He came to heal the broken hearted, give sight to the blind, and restore the crushed with forgiveness. The mysteries are countless. I don’t have all the answers. In fact, I could even be entirely wrong (I hope I’m not.) However, I have faith in a good and gracious Creator of the universe. I believe that no matter where you live, who you are, or who you worship, God loves you!

I live life way different then I did when I first became a Christian. I’m learning how to live in the present moment. I do less fearful praying and more praising. I imagine that God is way more compassionate then many of the messages and conditioned dogma I grew up learning. Some legalistic religious ideologies I have shed. Some internal faith beliefs will never leave me. I have faith that I will one day see my Lord face to face. I will bow down at his feet. Then a kind hand will reach down. I will be lifted up to my feet, embraced, and once again, invited to walk along side of him throughout eternity. 

Hormones (The horrors and the moans) PSA

“The body is fearfully and wonderfully made.” --Psalm 139:14

I’ll talk about the “fearful” stuff first: menopause.

I was in a training in Denver last month called, Yoga For The Change: PMS to Menopause. It was a class I need for my continuing education towards my yoga 500hrs certification. I thought it was perfect timing since I am officially in menopause, and well, life, as I know it, has changed. Drastically! 

The class was very helpful. However, all the women who were peri-menopause and menopause scared the crap out of anyone who wasn’t in their 40’s. 'Brace yourself, it's coming!' we insisted. I will never forget the look on their horrified young faces of the girls in their 20's and 30's. 

The first 9 months after my hysterectomy I was fine. No unbearable night sweats or hot flashes. I was convinced that I controlled that with diet and exercise. Yay me! I got this!

Then, when I came home from a two-week vacation I was more tired then ever. What the heck? I was in Hawaii. I didn’t feel I had the right to complain. But, when I sat with the feeling, it wouldn’t go away. My body was begging me to rest. I couldn’t read a book to save my life. I’m in a book club and I’ve basically faked my way through it since November by reading the first and last paragraph of every chapter. If it takes longer than 10 minutes to concentrate, I can’t do it. I can’t even read a magazine. I felt like I was suddenly ADD. Facebook has been an escape for me the past four months. There is no concentrating on any one thing. I can be like a bee pollenating FB posts. I can rest my tired eyes by watching a random videos of puppies playing with pigmy hippos. Some days it is so bad I think I can see fog in my mind when I close my eyes. 

A year earlier, when I had my post-op hysterectomy appointment, I asked my doctor about this fearful thing called ‘menopause weight gain’. She said, “Yeah, it’s a bummer. You’re going to have to eat 1200 calories a day THE REST OF YOUR LIFE to lose weight and then maintain the weight loss. If she would have been a male doctor, I would have thought, “no uterus, no opinion.” But she is a respected GYN who also was menopausal and thin.

At first, 1200 calories felt like a death sentence to me. I left her office and bought a whole Sara Lee Cheesecake (which by the way is my ultimate default food when I feel utterly depressed and hopeless). When I finally put down the fork, slapped myself upside the head for being stupid, I thought, “pull it together, Kim. You can do this.” I’m usually not hungry in the morning (save 500 calories right there); and I love to workout. It’s all math (so I thought).

I was able to sustain that for about 6 months. By the time I got to Hawaii, I was exhausted and my hair was falling out. I felt like someone let all the air out of my happy balloon.

Then the mother of all horrible things started happening in November—seemingly overnight. I started gaining weight quickly. My face started looking like a puffer fish and my abdomen became barrel-like. I was doing my best not to be damning to myself, but my self-esteem was teetering. “Breathe, Kim. Breathe. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” I didn’t. I was breathing heavier while walking up the stairs. My joints were more inflamed. I needed to work out more but I had less energy. I’d have a smile on my face but I was not happy. Every morning I was asking God to help me “pull it together.” I’d start out good but was ravenously hungry. And, by the end of the day, I was craving sugar like a meth-addict, and occasionally sneaking off in secret to Starbucks to get 3 vanilla bean scones and a small ice tea with sugar. Who is this alien person taking over my body and my mind? 

And then to top it off, our Chicago winter of 2014 was unrelentingly cold. When I wasn’t teaching a yoga class or working with a client, I was upstairs in my bedroom under the electric blanket. 

There was 3-week period over the course of 4 winter months where I was lamenting having to go gray (because of allergic reaction to the dye). So 10lbs of my weight, I own. I emotionally ate it. Then I got myself together and was doing everything I could think to help me get more energy.  Digging deep and trying to step up, I started juicing more and eating less.

The problem was I was running up a down escalator. 

One day, Rich said to me, “You know, you’ve been trying to think of what’s wrong with you, trying to do everything you can think of to help yourself lose weight and get more energy like going to Pilates classes, ionic foot bath detoxing, juicing, or eating less, taking naps to feel better. The one thing you’ve never mentioned was maybe this is all due to having been surgically induced into menopause.”

Two things floored me: 1^st, the man with no uterus may be onto something; 2^nd, why didn’t I think of that? 

I thought menopause was going to be about my emotions being out of control. They weren’t. I wasn’t crying or depressed (I know what depression looks like and this was NOT depression). I wasn’t a crazy raving maniac who wanted to rip someone’s head off if they looked at me the wrong way (that was my PMS 20’s). It’s been years since I’ve yelled, “SHUT THE HELL UP, I HATE YOU” because I felt hormonally demonically possessed. 

Recently, I just felt like flat pop. For some women it is lack of sleep. I’ve been sleeping way less since I turned 44 so that didn’t register in my mind. For some women it’s hot flashes or night sweats. Those was rare and mild and didn’t bother me. For others it is lack of libido. Since my kids and grandkids may read this someday, I won’t say any more about that. Your welcome! J

The bottom line is every woman is different how she experiences the ‘change of life.’ The good news is there is hope.

Remember that fearfully and wonderfully made psalm?

Now for the wonderful stuff: Get your hormonal panel done! Let me say that again. If your mind or body is behaving badly (okay, better put, different), no matter what your age, get your hormonal panel done. RUN, DON’T WALK!!

I had a saliva hormonal panel done and it showed the true story of why I was physically expanding exponentially and tired. I wasn’t a bad or lazy person. I wasn’t crazy. I was just uninformed of the real physiological story. My symptoms are my body’s way of trying to get my attention. Your hormones are the TRUE barometers of your health. It’s not too terribly expense and worth every penny. We have been condition to do all sorts of things that may be damaging to our bodies without a hormonal panel: calorie restriction and intense workouts. 

Why doctors DON’T suggest this easy test, I have no idea. (Don’t even get me started.) It will show if you are estrogen dominant in your 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s--which helps you know if you are set up for disease such as cancers because estrogen makes things grow (good things like blood vessels, but bad things too, like cancer).

The wonderful thing about all hormones is they are synthesized from Cholesterol. From Cholesterol two umbrella hormones: DHEA and Progesterone. Under the DHEA umbrellas is Testosterone and Estrogen. DHEA has to do with mind, sleep, sex drive. Testosterone has to do with muscle mass, sex drive, ‘your get up and go’. Estrogen makes things grow like blood vessels. But it also other things like cancer. Under the Progesterone Umbrella is Cortisol and Aldosterone. Progesterone is our protection hormone. It offsets harmful effects of estrogen. Cortisol helps with sleep, anti-inflammation, metabolism of cholesterol, carbohydrate sugar, and immune function. That is sort of the gist. I didn’t go to medical school, so talk to your doctor for more information.

My hormonal test panel came back showing that my body was behaving very badly.

My progesterone was dangerously low…in fact…terrible low. If normal is a range between 200-400, my Pg/e2 was 29. I was unprotected.

My adrenals were in need of repair because of being in an insulin resistant (constant stress state).  I’m pre-diabetic (good to know). I have NO, NONE, NODDA, ZIP fat burning capacity. That is why I was gaining weight so easily. I was only burning sugar carbohydrates. My metabolism was tanked. Ladies, does this sound like you too? 

I was shocked. I told my doctor that I teach yoga and have no serious stress.  I have a pretty calm and relaxed life that I’ve created for myself. He said that even though my mind is in the present, my body is acting like it did 30 years ago when it was in a stressed out state. It defaults to that state because it was never fully repaired. Our bodies never forget. It will take a few years to rehabilitate and heal my adrenals.

The other red flag was I was high in testosterone and really low in estrogen. So my body’s hormones are going the wrong way.  Low estrogen will contribute to weight gain too. And just because my testosterone was high didn’t mean I wanted to rip off my husband’s cloths. There was too much hormonal imbalance in other areas for high testosterone to work in my favor. ;-) 

The wonderful news is I will start feeling better within days or weeks. I felt like Steve Martin in the movie, The Jerk when the new phone books arrived. For me it was “My bio-identical hormones arrived, my bio-identical hormones arrived!!!” I’m on adrenal supplements, and specific exercise to heal and rebalance my hormones and a strict diet: No sugar (duh), gluten free only, no grains, no fruit (for now), no cows milk, and get this, NO EXERCISE. I can only walk 30-60 minutes a day. What?? No Pilates or Flow Yoga classes, no biking, etc. My doctor told me to ‘trust’ him.

It’s all so counter-intuitive to not feel compelled to work out like a maniac. In the past working out like a crazy women is the only way I lost weight (hmm, should have known my hormones back then). But I’ll do what my doctor tells me. If he told me I had to rest in bed all spring and summer I’d do it. I intuitively knew the last 4 months is not how I'm suppose to feel. I just didn't know what to do. There is no reason to feel as whacked out as I have felt. And if my body wants to heal (which is what I tell others all the time), then I’ll do my part. 

My doctor, Dr. Sean Patterson wrote a book called the Pre-Diet Plan.

He says our culture is all jacked up. There are things we need to do BEFORE we diet to TRULY heal our bodies and lose weight.

*Don’t eat in the car while driving.

*Don’t eat while using phone, watching TV, or using the computer.

*Eat like a European: slowly. Take 15-30 minutes to eat by  yourself, 1 hour to eat with company or family.

All those things we do are messing with our hormonal balance (men too). 

You know those Pubic Service (PSA) Announcements? That is what this really is all about. We talk about hormones but in ways that are vague. Doctors recommend that you should get a mammograms and pap smears. Ask (demand if you have to) for a hormone panel. Don't personalize this. Be your own advocate. 

We are fearfully and wonderfully made.

 Know your 'inner and outer' bodies.

 There is information you can have that will balance you out. 

The body wants to heal. 

50 Shades Of Gray

~Conversation over lunch~

Friend: What’s new? [She tries to divert her eyes from the thick streak of sliver gray blazing down the center of my head].

Me: I’m going gray. [Might as well cut to the chase].

Friend:  I can see that. I was wondering when you were going to get your hair dyed?

Me: Oh, I’m not going to dye my hair ever again.

Friend: [blank stare at the top of my head]

Me: [chuckling]

Friend: You’re too young to go gray, Kim.

Me: I already am gray. I’ve just been hiding it for the last 30 years.

Friend: Me too.

Me: I can’t dye my hair anymore. I’ve had a severe reaction to the dye the last 6 times I’ve dyed my hair. My body has spoken.

Friend: That’s awful.

Me: The reaction was physically horrible, but it was more emotionally painful. You know, when my friend Mary had cancer last year, her color came back white and glorious. Oh my God, she looked more beautiful then ever. If I had cancer, losing my hair or going gray would be a no brainer. I wouldn’t think twice.

Friend: That’s true.

Me: It was agonizing to come to grips with going gray at first. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth because I couldn’t imagine being 50 and all gray.  And my hair may not look as stunning as Mary’s hair. What will people say? What will Rich think?

Friend: He will love you no matter how you look [as if the poor guy had no choice.]

Me: I’m not my grandmother. I’m cool.

Friend: Isn’t there something you can do? You can’t go gray.

Me: No. It’s time to look my age. I’m 50.

Friend: There are natural dyes and hennas.

Me: My gray is so stubborn it wouldn’t cover well or look very natural and would fade quickly. Besides, who am I kidding? Everyone will notice sooner or later. You have no idea what I was doing by week three after dying my hair. The roots were already showing. So I had to use a brown hair color pen and then dust it with brown eye shadow. That was on the days I wasn’t wearing a hat. It’s ridiculous what I was doing to prevent anyone from seeing a single gray hair.

Friend: Is that why you wear hats all the time?

Me: No, I’m a hat girl. Some days I’m just lazy.

Friend: Some women can pull off gray well; others look terrible.

 Me: [Noticing my inner defensiveness to her fearful projections about going gray hair.] I am actually at peace about it.

Friend: I could never go gray now. My husband wouldn’t like me looking like his mother.

Me: Well, I don’t look like my mother; I look like my grandmother. She had elegant white hair; I’m hoping I get her silver white hair gene like my brother and my dad.

Friend: So are you going to cut your hair off soon?

Me: There are three options: 1) Buzz it off now and let it grow in. 2) Let it grow out 5-months and then do a pixie cut. 3) Or let it grow out entirely, having two-tone hair for the next 18 months.  I’m going with the last option.

Friend: [Blank Stare]

Me: That is the option I’ve decided to do. Many women do it; kind of a reverse Ombre look. I know myself, if I cut it to a pixie cut, I will never have long hair again.

Friend: But you look cute with short hair [trying to talk me out of doing the long haired two-tone-grow-out-look].

Me: I was worried what other people would think. But I realize it will be a good Zen practice ‘not to care’ what other people think. I teach that, right? What other people think of me is none of my business. 


Friend: That’s hard to do.

Me: It will look odd at first; as if I got adult braces. Some people will judge with their eyes.  I’ll notice and try not to take it personally. The transition will be like18-months of people looking at my two-toned head instead of looking at braces on my teeth. After that, everyone will be used to it. Maybe I should get braces too to mess with their minds? Besides, I am more than my hair, right?

Friend: So, you’re going to have long gray hair? [Again with the doubting]

Me: I don’t want to be the stereotype old gray hair lady with short hair. I know others who look great with short gray hair. I want to rock long gray hair. By the mercy of God, I found (on Pinterest) pictures of beautiful women in there 40’s, 50’s, 60’s, who have long gray hair. I would have never thought it possible. [Whipping out my phone showing her a picture of Sara Davis Eisenmen…the most gorgeous silver beauty.] 

Friend: She is gorgeous.

Me: I know! I’m learning as I go in this process that silver is just another color of hair. And speaking of process, the chemicals that we put on our hair are frightening. They may not cause brain cancer (that we know of), but they are petroleum based tar products that are endocrine inhibitors. Endocrine inhibitors mess with the hormones. Phenylendiamine PPD is bad stuff for the body (even listed on many non-permanent ‘natural’ products.) This is probably why my hair was falling out and eyebrows were thinning. It’s stopped shedding in clumps since I’ve stopped dying two months ago.

Friend: Really?

Me: Really! We don’t want to eat GMO’s in our food. Poison in our drinks (like diet pop). We want to go green when we use chemicals to clean our house.  We want natural creams for our skin but we’ll put this toxic poison on our porous heads.

Friend: I’m not going gray with you, Kim!

Me: [laughing] I get it. I am the last person who ever wanted to go gray. I used to say, ‘if you are my true friend, and I’m unconscious in the hospital, when I wake up, my gray hair better be covered.’

Friend: I know. I can’t believe you of all people are going gray.

Me: I honor the hair color dye choices of other women. I have moments where fear creeps in (it’s part of letting go). I find myself kind of mildly obsessing looking at brown haired dyed brunettes who walk passed me.

Friend: I can tell this is a big deal for you.

Me: There are a few things that I’ve got complete clarity about: 1) there is a huge ageism issue out there about women and gray hair. In spite of that, gray hair is not a blow to my self-esteem or womanhood. 2) That coloring our hair is not safe. 3) Gray or silver is just another color. 4) I want to be an example about how to ‘do this aging thing’ well.

Friend: Men have issues around gray hair too. It’s pressure to have to look younger in our society.

Me: We’re not young anymore. And we've created this false vanity society, not men.

Friend: Men want younger women. That’s a fact.

Me: Is it?

Friend: Companies want younger women. Women who let their hair go gray are seen as giving up.

Me: I hear ya! I’ve been confronted by my own fearful past thoughts about gray haired women and aging. I cringe when I think about it. I was so afraid. I went up to a woman, about my age, at the store last week and told her I loved the color of her silver gray hair.

Friend: That was nice of you.

Me: It felt right. I had no idea how painful and scary this process is for women to go gray until I had to do it myself. I see them as brave and honest.

Friend: Kim, you’ll look great. You have a young face. You always have.

Me: I never knew how attached I was to that praise my whole life: “You have a 28 year old son? You look so young! You can’t be _____fill in the age.” I wasn’t a magazine beauty, but I looked young. And you know what? I loved being told that. I’m not going to get that praise anymore. I had no idea how people’s kind words would set me up to feel bad about myself at the thought of going gray. Sad, huh?

Friend: Everyone will still praise you.

Me: [Laughing] I’m not looking for praise anymore. I’m so glad I faced my fears. I feel empowered. I’m excited that in 18-months I’m going to be truly me; All 50 shades of gray.

Friend: You go girl. Look out!!!

Me: No more pretending. God has given me silver highlights. Now, I look in the mirror and whisper to my silver gray hair, “Hurry up and grow!”

Friend: You are handling this well.

Me: Rich has been beyond supportive.

Friend: He always is. 


Me: He’s helped me process this metamorphosis. Really, I’d like to be one of those women who help change the conversation on the stereotype of gray hair. I’ve met some amazing ladies on a closed Facebook group called Gray and Proud. Oh my gosh, these women talked me off a ledge. They are stunning, sassy, fearless, and full of solidarity for being natural and healthy. And I’m not talking Granola Types who only make soap. I’m talking everyone from models to moms.  


Friend: [laughing] Have you started making soap yet?

Me: Not yet [laughing]. The process of going gray is misunderstood in our society. We’ve created a culture of fear around getting old and looking old. In our quest to stay young there is a beauty industry that promotes fear and prays on our vanity. And it may be at the expense of our health too? My own hair stylist admitted to me that she was in the business of coloring hair; that’s how she makes her money. She knows there are PPD chemicals in the dye. Yet, she doesn’t want to or can’t discourage women to stop coloring their hair; it’s her livelihood.

Friend: It’s really crazy what we do to maintain our youth.

Me: Isn’t it interesting how we don’t put that kind of pressure on men?  We gift them the freedom to go gray naturally without pressure to meet our expectation of youth. And we love them and accept them.  Even call them silver foxes or distinguished.

Friend: That’s for sure. I love my husband’s gray.

Me: Me too.

Friend: Are you going to continue to let others see your silver gray hair while you grow it out? Or are you going to cover it up. [Ah, the gray elephant in the room].

Me: Depends. If you see it, then I feel comfortable with you and don’t care what you think. I’m letting my yoga students see it. If I think people are going to judge, I may wear a hat. But then again, I’m lazy and will wear a hat even if I don’t think someone will judge me. Actually, I’ll play it by ear. I do know that if I go to a wedding or have a special event, I’ll probably wear a cute hat to match a cute outfit. Which means I have a great excuse to go shopping. So, I’m happy.

Friend: I’m on your side. I can see you all silvery and glowing.

Me: Thank you.

Friend: How can I support you?

Me: Sometimes, I wish I had bigger boobs so people wouldn’t look at my hair.

Friend: Then you’d need a support push up bra.

Me: [Laughing] Right, one more thing to pretend I’m something I’m not. Seriously, in the meantime, keep reminding me NOT to cut my long hair; tell me to hang in there during the awkward two toned grow-out-transition over the next year or two. And if you see a cute hat, buy it for my birthday.