To Breathe

In the midst of the "everyday", I am finding that I receive constant reminders that I should really be thankful that I have breath and life each day.  Who cares if my hair is out of whack or if my husband isn't treating me the way I'd like him to, or if the class I'm taking has outrageous amounts of work?  I should just be thankful to inhale and breathe the air around me. I should be thankful to be me and want nothing else.

Since 7th grade, I've seemed to have a bit too many encounters with agonizing cramps, fainting, passing out, or asthma attacks where I just have no breath.   Sharp stomach pains, dizziness, being on the ground, and loud gaspings for breath are just too familiar to my life.... not to mention they're embarrassing.  In 7th grade I passed out after a mile run called the "fun run" and was sent to the ER after I had horrible cramps.  While playing field hockey in college, I had a number of episodes where I had asthma attacks or agonizing cramps AGAIN which led me to sound like I was in labor almost every time. One person commented to me once that it sounded like I was having sex.. which again is not the way to attract your future mate.  And the week after I got engaged and about a few weeks after running the Marine Corp Marathon, I passed out, puked, and more after a 3 mile run outdoors.  I was in bathroom stall in fact when I passed out on the floor. And let me tell you, there is not much more humbling that passing out in a public restroom stall. It's pretty disgusting.  Last week I went to spin class and as people filed out of the studio,  my stomach didn't feel right and my head was definitely losing all depth perception and feeling a little woozy...again.   You can only guess what happened.   (I'm waiting a few weeks before I return to class.)

Every time I lose it, a good citizen, often left unidentified helps me off the floor, calls 911, or gives me water and helps me clean up the gross mess I've made of myself.  Thank good for these people. They remind that God still provides and has many helping hands among us when in need and in our weakest moments.   I remember gripping onto the door of the health center in college, not sure if I could make it inside to tell them I wasn't feeling good at all.  Some man discovered me perched on the door handle and went to call the nurse.  I never looked to see his fact, but because of him, the nurse came with a wheelchair and I was soon sent to the ER.  Not only is there a helping hand in these all "events" but in addition, I find myself always humbled, party due to the embarrassment.  I remember that I can't do everything and I'm not super fast best woman after all.  I am put in my weak moments and it returns me to myself and who I really am, someone who needs divine help and the control of a heavenly Father.

I've always hoped that one day I can be that girl or woman that we all know, who is puttogether, stylish, sophisticated, eloquent, and proper in all she does.  I try, trust me, but with my weird quirks, the passing out, and my frugality in buying second hand clothes... which sometimes I find holes in, I am still pretty far from ideal.   I have my good moments but all in all, my slight "brush with death" every few years reminds me that the beauty of having breath, having health, and just being me is good enough.