This week I stepped on the scale for the first time since before Thanksgiving. I have done really well when it comes to moderation in all things food while also letting myself enjoy the baked goods and sweets of the season. I was hoping to just maintain and even said that in my blog two weeks ago. However, when I weighed, I was down 6 pounds since the day before Thanksgiving! That is a huge win in my book. The last time I lost weight over the Holiday season was in 2019 when I was at the height of my weight loss the first time around. I will take this and move forward with great momentum swinging in my direction. I have an Ireland trip to think about in 10 months and I want to average at least 10-15 pounds of weight loss per month before I travel there. I CAN do it. It’s just a matter of if I WILL get it accomplished. The weather is super nice right now. We have had no snow and temps are hovering in the upper 50’s to mid 60’s and that makes it nice for walking. Not to mention the days are growing longer and in a few weeks maybe there will be enough daylight left at 5 for me to get a walk in after work. Even still, with all that, I am happy with my place in this journey right now. Keep praying for me!
I stopped by a friend’s house the week before Christmas. My friend was expecting me, but when I approached and knocked on the door, they didn’t hear me. I knocked a second time, this time a little harder. I gave it about 30 seconds and still no answer. So, I knocked pretty aggressively yet a third time thinking that would do the trick. Nope. I waited again and still no answer. I finally grabbed my phone and called to let them know I was at the door. They apologized and came to let me in right away. We chuckled about how sometimes, even when you are expecting something, you miss all the clues and signals that it has arrived. After I left, I started thinking about how much of life is like that. And right now, most directly, this feels like a perfect picture of my health. For many years I have been concerned about my health and have known I should be taking steps to get healthier overall. And now I find myself praying that I never have to worry about bad health and disease calling at my door. But if it ever does, I need to be aware enough to hear it, answer it, and deal with it right away.
Health has a funny way of introducing itself into our lives. It rarely kicks the door down without warning. Most of the time, it knocks. Slowly at first. Quiet enough that we can ignore it, excuse it away, or tell ourselves we’ll answer later. We hear it when our jeans feel a little snug, when we get winded a little faster, when our joints ache just a bit more than they used to. We hear it when our energy dips, our sleep suffers, or our patience shortens. But because the knock is gentle, we often don’t respond. We tell ourselves we are just tired. Or stressed. Or busy. Or that NOW isn’t the right time. So we keep moving, keep pushing, keep surviving. And the knock continues . . . patient and persistent . . . until one day it’s not knocking anymore. It’s pounding.
I have learned that health issues don’t usually arrive with sirens blaring. They sneak up on us while we’re living life . . . raising families, building careers, caring for others, serving faithfully, and doing the best we can with what we have. They creep in quietly while we convince ourselves that we’ll deal with it later. Later when things slow down. Later when the kids are grown. Later when work isn’t so demanding. Later when the holidays are over. Later when everything else is handled.
But “later” has a way of becoming “too late” if we’re not careful.
I’ve been on both sides of that door. I’ve been the person who ignored the knock because I was overwhelmed, burned out, or just didn’t want to face what answering it might require of me. And I’ve been the person who opened the door only after my health had already banged its way inside, rearranged the furniture, and made itself at home without asking permission. Neither experience is one I’d recommend.
What I am learning, and relearning, is that the steps we take NOW matter far more than the ones we WISH we had taken then. Small changes, made consistently over time, can quiet the knocking. They don’t guarantee we’ll never face illness, injury, or hardship . . . because this is still life in a fallen world . . . but they can mitigate the damage. They can buy us time, mobility, strength, and clarity. They can allow us to greet health challenges as something familiar rather than something terrifying.
If I am going to answer a door, I want it to be a friend. Or a loved one. Or an opportunity. Not danger. Not regret. Not consequences I could have softened had I listened earlier. The same is true when health comes knocking.
There is something deeply humbling about realizing that our bodies keep score even when our minds are distracted. They remember the years of neglect, the shortcuts, the excuses, the emotional eating, the lack of movement, the chronic stress. They remember the times we chose comfort over care. And eventually, they speak up. Sometimes that voice is a diagnosis. Sometimes it’s pain. Sometimes it’s fear. Sometimes it’s the quiet realization that we’re no longer able to do the things we once took for granted. And sometimes, if we are fortunate, it’s still just a knock.
I believe with everything in me that many of us are living in that space right now. The space where health is asking for our attention, not demanding it yet. The space where change is still possible without crisis. The space where prevention can still soften impact. This is where I have found myself lately. I am not starting from scratch but I did have to start again. And there is something different about this season. It’s not frantic. It’s not fueled by shame or desperation. It’s steady. It’s intentional and hopeful. I’m listening more closely now . . . to my body, to my limits, and to God’s gentle nudging that reminds me I am worth caring for.
Because here’s the truth we don’t talk about enough . . . taking care of our health isn’t selfish. It’s stewardship. We only get one body to carry the soul God entrusted to us. One vessel to show up for our families, our callings, our friendships, and the plans He still has ahead of us. When we neglect it, we don’t just suffer alone . . . the people who love us feel it too.
I don’t want to sit out experiences because my body can’t keep up. I don’t want fear to dictate where I go, what I do, or how visible I allow myself to be. I don’t want pain of any kind to be the loudest voice in my life. And I don’t want to look back one day wishing I had taken the knocking seriously when it was still polite.
There’s an Ireland trip waiting for me. Now, while that is a tangible motivator, it’s also symbolic of something bigger. I want to walk freely. I want to climb stairs without bracing myself. I want to fit comfortably in airplane seats and restaurant booths without anxiety tagging along. I want photos without positioning myself behind someone else. I want memories without limitations. But even more than that, I want longevity. I want quality years. I want to age with strength instead of fear. I want to wake up with energy instead of dread. I want my health to support my life, not compete with it.
That doesn’t mean perfection. It never has. It means awareness. It means consistency over intensity. It means choosing progress even when motivation wavers. It means answering the door when health knocks and saying, “I hear you. I am paying attention now.”
Some days that answer will be a nice walk. Some days it will be choosing more water than coffee. Some days it will be rest. Some days it will be discipline. Some days it will be grace. But all of the days it will be grit.
And all of it matters.
I don’t do this alone. My faith is woven into every step of this journey. I don’t believe God is waiting for me to “get it right” before He walks with me. I believe He’s already here . . . encouraging, correcting, strengthening, and reminding me that my worth isn’t measured by a number on a scale. But that number does reflect choices, habits, and stewardship . . . and those things matter, too.
I pray daily that I won’t ignore His whispers and wait for Him to shout. Because sometimes the knock isn’t just physical. It’s spiritual. A reminder that life is fragile. That time is precious. That we are not promised unlimited tomorrows. And that caring for ourselves is one way we honor the life we’ve been given.
If you’re reading this and hearing a knock of your own . . . maybe in your health, your habits, your energy, or your peace . . . I hope you’ll listen. Not with fear, but with courage. Not with shame, but with resolve. Answer the door while you still can. Invite health back in . . . both physical and spiritual. Take the steps now that your future self will thank you for.
I’m choosing to answer the knock. I’m choosing to move forward. I’m choosing to believe that what I do today matters tomorrow. And I’m praying. Not just for weight loss; not just for strength; but for wisdom to recognize the difference between a gentle knock and a dangerous pounding. If I am going to open a door, let it be to life. Let it be to healing. Let it be to hope. And if health is knocking, I’m listening now.
Losing Lacy 