Did you know about ALL these Menopausal Symptoms?

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      We are all familiar with the typical menopause symptoms: hot flashes, moodiness and irritability, and fatigue. These are bad enough, but I recently discovered a myriad of symptoms I never associated with menopause before. In hindsight, it all makes sense.

       Do you feel like you are always sick or that there is always something wrong with you? Are you frustrated with missing out on life because you are too miserable to enjoy it?  There is a good reason for it.

       Here is a list of symptoms that may suddenly occur or intensify at the onset of menopause. I bet you will be as surprised as I was.

      Cheer up! At least you have a valid excuse for your misery. I know it is no consolation now, but this too truly will pass. I made it to the other side of this rocky path called menopause without tearing my hair out (or anybody else’s), killing anyone, or going certifiably insane. You can too.

    Remember, Lamentations 3:23 says, God’s mercies “are new every morning: great is His faithfulness.” He will give you the grace to fight this battle of out-of-control hormones one day at a time. And when you fail (we all do), God’s mercy will renew and refresh. After all, tomorrow is another day.

    If you would like to learn more about these symptoms, go to http://www.kuhlcare.com/menopause-symptoms/qw9qw78.

 You can also click on any symptom to learn more about it.  

Did you like this article? Please leave a comment, and don’t forget to follow me before you leave. God Bless

 

           

  

 

 

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It’s Me Again, God #1

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It’s Me Again, God #1

Here I am, seeking refuge from my own humiliating self once again, God. You could have stopped it. After all, You are the almighty God of the Universe. You did’t have to let me walk down the hospital corridor, head held high, with “What a beautiful day,” careening from my mouth. I’d managed to go to the cafeteria and order a bowl of soup. Chicken noodle soup to be exact. This was a great feat for me; I hate eating alone. I have this fear of doing something stupid. I don’t know what gave me that idea. When I finished my soup, I headed back to the hospital room where my husband’s grandmother lay on her deathbed. I was proud of myself, all smiles and full of confidence. I greeted everyone who crossed my path.

When I entered the room, I went into the bathroom to wash my hands. As I was scrubbing I took a peek into the mirror to make sure everthing was in place. My mouth dropped open! Posed, proud as a peacock, on the end of my nose, sat a noodle. A chicken noodle! I wanted to die! How could I face the world again? My heart grimmaced with agony as I realized with much shame that my cheery disposition wasn’t the only thing greeting people that day. I withered at the recollection of the amused look on their faces. I assumed they were enjoying the day, as it was. In reality, they were enjoying the spectacle before them, the jiggling noodle waving hello with every exhuberant bounce.

“God! How could you do this to me? I am so embarrassed.”  I wanted to run home and hide under the covers. That old tune, “Make the World Go Away,” rang through my mind.

I gathered my wits, cleaned off the unwelcome protrusion and plopped myself in the chair by the bed. Grandmother was unconcious. At least she didn’t see my humiliation. Suddenly, her eyes opened, she looked at me, smiled, and then she was gone. All thought of the noodle disappeared.

In the ten minutes I spent fretting over the dangling noodle, she had been clinging to life. God, how could I be so vain? My little non-earthshaking humiliations are nothing in the greater scheme of things. Yes, you could have stopped me from walking down that corridor with a dangling noodle on my nose, but then I may never have learned some valuable lessons. I remembered the title of a popular book, “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff,” by Richard Carlson. The noodle definitely was “small stuff.”

As I sit complaining over eggs cooked too long, millions are dying from starvation. As I complain of the constant flow of people in my home, millions more would give anything to have one person walk through their doors; loneliness their constant companion. When my children frustrate me, I am reminded of the childless couples who would give anything to be in my shoes. Disgruntled over a messy house, I remember millions that are homeless. Maybe a dangling chicken noodle isn’t such a big deal after all!

 

What’s Your Story?

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What’s Your Story?

I watched for her today.

The hunchbacked lady

In her soiled garb;

Scars of the yesteryears

In her face and arms;

Past agonies veiled

Behind lackluster eyes.

*

What’s your story old lady?

Who are you?

Where do you come from?

Where do you reside?

In a house?

Outside a dumpster?

In a cardboard box?

*

What’s your story old lady?

Does anyone love you?

Does anyone care?

If today you disappeared,

Would anyone search for you?

Would anyone notice

If you suddenly weren’t there?

*

What’s your story old lady?

Did your papa beat you?

Your Uncle molest you?

Your mama run off and leave you?

Were you trapped

In a world full of people,

Yet all alone?

*

What’s your story old lady?

Did your child die in a great fire?

Your one true love in Vietnam?

Was everything you loved

Snatched from your embrace?

Was your heart torn asunder,

Damaged beyond repair?

*

What’s your story old lady?

Why do you look like that?

Smell like that?

What drove you to eat from garbage cans?

Shut out the world?

I am obsessed with who you are,

With a need to know.

*

What’s my story?

Why do I persist?

Am I like the rest?

Look but do not see?

Pity, but keep my distance?

Wrinkle my nose in disgust,

Devoid of sympathy?

*

What’s your story old lady?

I must know.

Fear overtakes me;

Sweat pierces my brow.

You could be my mother, my grandmother,

If life had been different.

You could be me.

*

Do I hold the fate of my story

In the palm of my hands?

Who would I be

After a lifetime of grief?

A lifetime of sorrow?

Would I find myself alone?

Would your story become mine?

*

She stops;

Scavenges in the garbage can;

Searching for five-centers,

A morsel of food,

A discarded treasure.

She looks at me.

Can she sense my curiosity?

*

With a swish of her hand

She wipes the drip from her nose.

One more spot on her

Grotesquely soiled sleeves.

There she goes;

The old hunchback lady

With the story nobody knows.

Step One – Let Go of Fear

 

 

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1. Let go of fear
Hot Flash
: The future is not something to fear, but something to spring into with great anticipation and excitement for what is to come. What do you fear? If you were to ask me, I would give you a long list: snakes, spiders, bats, and the dark are but a few. Yes, I am a wimp!  But . . . my fear does not control me. It does not hinder my life. Romans 8:15 says, “For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba Father.”  Fear unto bondage is fear that hinders us from doing the things we know we need to do. The Bible gives us permission to fear, even commands us to fear one thing, one Person. “The fear of the Lord tendeth to life: and he that hath it shall abide satisfied; he shall not be visited with evil” (Psalm 19:23). So I ask you again, what do you fear? In order to live life to its fullest we must defeat fear. Old age, death, taking risks, and rejection are all major fear factors as we begin this journey. Give them to the Lord and go forward into the abundant life.
Practical Application
: Fear is debilitating. It will keep you from living life to its fullest. Face your fears and break free from the bondage that hinders your zest for life.  If you fear aging, study the lives of people who’ve accomplished great things after the age of 50; it will inspire you. Take time to read Bible passages that remind you of the breathtaking wonders awaiting you in glory. Start with these: John 14:2, 1 Corinthians 2:7-9, Revelation 5:9-13, Revelation 22:1-5. Pray daily asking God to help you conquer your fear. When you gain victory over fear, your entire perspective on life will change.

 

This is step one in my new E book “Menopause and Beyond: 12 Steps to Living Life to its Fullest . . . Now! To order the book click here: 

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JU52LXA

 

“Menopause and Beyond” is encouragement for the menopausal woman struggling to find purpose for her life. It encourages her to live life to its fullest, step outside her comfort zone, and serve God with more gusto than ever before. Now is the time to make a bold statement for God, for womanhood, and for all those who will come after her. Now is the time to make a difference!

 

Identity Crisis

Identity Crisis

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            As a little girl I found my identity in my long, golden locks. Time and time again people exclaimed how beautiful my hair was. “Don’t ever cut it,” they said. Of course not; why would I cut my hair when it was my identifying glory? I was proud of my long locks and swooshed them back and forth to make sure everyone noticed them. My hair was me; after all, everyone told me so.

            Just before entering first grade, my mother informed me that I was going for a haircut. Shocked and bewildered, I just stood there and stared at her. A haircut, how could this be possible? My hair was me. Without my hair I was nobody. My individuality would disappear and no one would like me anymore.

            I worked myself into a frenzy. My mother was betraying me. Didn’t she understand what this would do to me? Gone would be her little girl with the long, beautiful hair.

            I screamed and cried but my efforts were useless. I was marched to the neighbor’s house and thrown into her scissor-crazy, life-destroying, identity stealing, hands. As I sat on the stool, huge crocodile tears streamed down my face. She raised the scissors. My life flashed before my eyes. Then it happened! I heard that first cut and let out a death curdling scream. Unheeded, unloved, and mutilated, I sat there deflated as a punctured balloon.

            She continued to slice and hack my hair until my blond tresses that once fell to the middle of my back now only reached to the bottom of my ears. My mother called it a “Pixie” cut.

            No crying left in me; I stepped down from the stool and quietly followed my mother home. I hid in my room, not wanting to see anyone, or let anyone see me. Fear paralyzed me. Who was I now that my hair was gone? Would anyone recognize me? Would they want me as their friend? What would they say now that I was no longer the little girl with the long, beautiful hair? Would they call me names? Would they call me the little girl with the short, ugly hair that looked like a boy?    

            No amount of begging could convince my mother to let me stay home that first day of school. Not wanting anyone to see how much it mattered to me, I held my head high, chin in the air, and walked to school. Insecurity overwhelmed me.       

            Now the test, my friends ran towards me. It was the first they’d seen me since my haircut. At first they just stopped and stared. Then . . . my worst nightmare . . . they burst out laughing. One jokingly said, “Where’s Lisa?”

            “It’s me,” I said, but the damage was done. Truly I was not the me that I used to be. Who was I now? And thus my first major identity crisis began.

            What’s the big deal? How can a haircut change my entire perspective on life? To an adult, secure in their identity, it is no big deal. But to a five-year-old, it was confusing and unbearable. To this day, I think long and hard before getting a haircut.

            Insecurity stemming from so long ago digs its ugly roots deep and it is hard to cast aside. Is my security found in my hair or in the way others think I should look? I would like to say, “Absolutely not.” But I can’t.

            It is still a struggle to keep my eyes focused on where my real identity lies; in the person of Jesus Christ. The onset of menopause ignited those insecurities big time, when, for a few years, my hair fell out by the handful. My mind ran wild with worst case scenarios. I envisioned my self a recluse, lonely and bald the rest of my life! I can laugh about it now, but, for awhile it was quite devastating.

            I know in my mind God is the only One I need to please. My heart fights that battle everyday. I have learned, as my faith matures, that my heart is deceitful (Jeremiah 17:9), and to follow my heart without first lining it up with God’s perfect Word leads to disaster. He only speaks the Truth to me. His Word tells me that “I am his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:10). There is no shame or insecurity in that.

            Your identity crisis may not have started with a haircut. Maybe it was something much more serious. Regardless the initial cause, God’s Truth remains the same for each of His children. “We have been bought with a price,” (1 Corinthians 7:23). That makes me special. That makes you special. In that knowledge we can hold our head high. Our identity is found in Christ alone. We are His! Nobody can take that away!

 

My Next Fifty Years

My Next Fifty Years

            I remember when I thought fifty was ancient. Not only was everyone over the hill, but I was positive their usefulness in life was limited. Now, on the other side of fifty, I realize my foolishness.

            Don’t get me wrong, things are different, much different than before. Sickness lingers a little longer and bones creak a little louder. I dye my hair more often and exercise fiercely on a regular basis, desperately clinging to my waning youth.

            Other things have changed as well. My “babies” are grown and have babies of their own. My youngest biological daughter (I have 2 adopted), has been alive for more than a quarter of a century. Her wedding was the clincher for me. Yes, I am getting old and there is nothing I can do about it.

            She was a beautiful bride. I remember through the years how she tormented me with her untraditional ideas. She wanted to wear black at her wedding. I threw a fit and warned her I wouldn’t come. I know things are changing, but that was just too much. Fortunately, her sensitive spirit took pity on me and she wore silver instead. Her hopes and dreams for life were just beginning.

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My daughter in her silver dress walking down the aisle with her “daddy.”

            Not so for me, some aspects of my life seem to be winding down and fading out. Many things about my life are uncertain. The future is unpredictable and scary at times.

The children are grown and moving away, even the grandchildren who worshipped the ground I walked on are turning into teens and have new friends and less time. Mortality slaps me in the face as I witness my husband struggling to stay healthy in his tired, uncooperative body.

            Yes, life is changing and I can do nothing about it.  It is not better or worse than before, just different. It is the path every person must eventually travel.  If I am not careful, these things will make me sad and nostalgic for the yesteryears, but I refuse to give in to depression.

            Instead, I choose to live! I will not go down without a fight. I plan to live my next fifty years (which is possible because two grandmothers lived to over 100), making a difference, serving God, loving outside the box, and accomplishing more than ever before. These are exciting times and I don’t plan on wasting a second. What about you? How are you going to make a difference in your next fifty years?