I am a 41 year old mother to three boys, I'm a wife, a daughter, and a sister. I've moved every three years since I was 17. As a family we have made 4 moves in the past 11 years. I've been a stay at home for 11 years, I've been a room mom, a PTA member, I've headed up school fundraisers and crafted some pretty amazing teachers gifts. I've spent countless hours in playgroups, library story times, mommy and me classes, soccer, flag football, swim team, baseball, basketball and football practices{and I have soo much more to go}. I love being a mother. It's all I ever wanted. When asked as a little girl, all I ever said was I wanted a family. I'm good at it. I'm naturally organized, I love to cook, doing laundry is no big deal, I take making a house a home seriously, yes...I'm abit of a domestic diva or I was. Two years ago something happened. All the things I had identified as my life's passion became not enough. They didn't "feed 'me like they once had, I craved a bigger purpose, I felt the urge to be more, have more, accomplish more. What once interested and gave me energy left me feeling frustrated and tired. Not the mother part, but definitely everything surrounding it. It was frightening. I'm not even going to pretend that it was easy to admit that I had everything I ever wanted yet felt empty. So in the midst of our move to Oklahoma I started to exercise more than I had in the past, really just to cope. It became my outlet. I was lonely from yet another move, I was yearning for more from my life, I was looking to connect with people. I was incredibly unhappy. Really, really unhappy.
Fast forward nearly two years. My outlet-exercise, my passion-pushing my boundaries in all things fitness. I clawed my way into some friendships. I know how melodramatic that sounds, but try moving a couple times, turn 40 and you'll understand what I'm talking about. I found people to help me reach my goals, I was virtually blowing my own damn mind. People would ask me if I was a trainer. "No, I'm not a trainer", I would say. "I only care about my own fitness!", I would exclaim. But as He always does with me {and oh I'm stubborn}, God changed my heart. I think it started when I noticed some girls at the gym doing some things differently, like maybe I had inspired their change?! Then older women hugged me and asked my advice and I felt needed, and I liked it. Then younger girls stopped me and complimented my body, you know, girls that could have been my daughters, and I felt relevant. The more I talked and they listened, the more I realized I did care about someone else's health and fitness. I wanted to inspire change and that maybe I was indeed a person that women could relate to....but. Oooo, there's always a but. I was scared {there's always a scared with me at first too} I had spent some time, in between kids and moves, thinking about what I would do when the times was right. Was this it? Training? I loved fitness so much, a heartbreak in this area felt risky. And by heartbreak I mean FAILURE.
I took the leap and put myself out there with f{re}sh. I am someone with years of experience and that's it. While it wasn't the first time the vulnerability of trying something new fueled a fire in my heart, it was indeed the first time my new passion and purpose lined up perfectly before my eyes. It was an amazing feeling just to be vulnerable, just to trust in God, just to ask Him to make me an instrument for making lives better, but then all of a sudden I had a client and her name....Grace
The significance of her name didn't strike me at first, all I was thinking about was her colorful, passionate goals that I knew I could help her reach. So we got started together. It was as fun as I thought it would, she was a great client. Open and willing to change, focused and determined. We were a couple weeks into the process when there were hurdles to get over, frustrations to work through, expectations to manage, because that's what happens when you are on your way to reaching goals, the road twists and turns. There was a moment in those exchanges, when she was thankful for me and I realized just how much I NEEDED her, more than she needed me. I needed a chance, validation, her trust and an opportunity to prove I could make a difference. I had certainly thanked God for her before, but it wasn't until that moment that I received his Grace. He had built something amazing out of my hurt and agony the year before. He had given me a gift in the circumstances I thought I was only just coping with. He had given my passion not only purpose within my own body but to help others and that was the sweetest comfort of all. To be significant, useful, humbled and inspired by... GRACE