Peace Archive

How I Lost 75 Pounds in Seven Months, Part Two

Posted February 20, 2014 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

In yesterday’s post, I shared the first thing I did to lose seventy-five pounds: significantly reduced the stress in my life. Eliminating the major stresser and simplifying my life were critical, yet surprisingly easy to accomplish once I set my heart on doing them.

The second thing I did was I set my body in motion. I know what you’re thinking. I set off on a long bicycle ride across the country and you could never do that. I wholeheartedly agree. That’s not the point. The point is I got moving.

Our bodies are divinely designed for motion. Yet, mine was rusting as I plopped into the recliner chair at night for hours without so much as a thought of moving. Just as the railway cars do once they are sentenced to sit in the train cemeteries, I was rotting right where I was.

My joints were freezing up, my muscles were tightening up and I was shriveling up. With each motionless day that passed, my body was growing weaker. It was out of its element.

Personally, I decided to take a long bicycle ride. Most people can’t do that but they can move. They can go for a walk. They can sit on the couch and curl a can of peas. They can move their joints in a pool or hot tub of water.

When I set out on my bike after being away from it for so long, it was painful. I was also in the mountains loaded down with fifty pounds of gear and horribly out of shape. I was so tired by the end of the day, I did what we women do: I cried.

I wouldn’t recommend you do that but I urge you to get moving. Find something you enjoy doing and just do it. I have a friend who loves to garden. Super! Get out there Geneva Green Thumb! I have another friend who loves to go bowling. Outstanding! Get that ball rolling Barbara Bowler!

The point is, get your body moving. You may have been in sedentary for so long, your body doesn’t want to move. You might have to force it a little. I’m not suggesting you injure yourself. In fact, that would be harmful to achieving your goals.

What I am pointing out is that your body will initially work against you. It doesn’t want to move. It’s like the lazy hound dog on a hot summer day that’s been snoozing on the porch for hours. It just doesn’t want to move.

But, just as you have to kick Rover and get him off the porch, you must make yourself move. Deliberate motion in some direction every day will make all the difference in the world.

As soon as my body recovered from the shock of being back in motion, it once again became a well-oiled machine. My metabolism soared and before long, the weight just simply began to drop. Today, I have seventy-five fewer pounds to haul around with me as my body moves.

I can honestly say my body is responding better today than it did when I was twenty. I’ve never felt better. I have more energy, more stamina, and more zest for life than I’ve ever had. And, I’m loving it!

So, get those doggies moving!

How often do you get in motion? Do you engage in deliberate movement every day? Share it here!

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Put Simply…

Posted November 22, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

All week long I’ve been driving around town to meetings, to Barnes and Noble and on errands. It was a radical departure from my walk-everywhere-I-went recently. And I have to say, I don’t like it. 

Little Girl on Road

Since I was tall enough to reach pedals in a vehicle, I’ve been driving. And before that, I sat in someone’s lap. In the country and on a ranch, driving is as natural a part of a child’s existence as eating. I’m skilled behind the wheel. And I love to drive. But yesterday it saddened me.

Since I took to walking around, life has been overwhelmingly simplified. There’s no tension in traffic, no watching for other motorists doing something really stupid. No one honks at me when the light turns green and things are just slower.

Heavy Freeway Traffic

When I was a kid, I walked everywhere. To the store to buy candy when I got a dime. To my friend’s house to play cowboys and indians. To school and then back home again. Interestingly, in addition to being in great shape as a child, I was also in touch with myself. I had time to think on those long walks back and forth. 

In today’s world–at least in my part of the world–people think it’s odd when they see someone riding on a shanks pony. That’s what we call it when someone walks. They think we’re upset or in trouble. They want to stop and help, to smooth things over and help us to feel better. 

Family Running Together

The joy and simplicity of walking has been edged out by horsepower and expressway systems. The hurry-up-and-wait mentality has grabbed us by the neck and is choking out our true freedom, peace and the simple life we were created to live.

It’s not complicated. 

Today, my preferred mode of transportation is my own legs, one in front of the other under their own power. I walk (or run) so many miles every day. I’ve reacquainted myself with the little girl of my youth. I’ve reunited with a slower paced existence and caused my heart to sing in gratitude. 

Road Through Forest

I suppose I’ll have to jump in the car and drive someplace. It’s inevitable,  but whenever I have the choice, I will choose hoofing it. What a joy it is to slow down and enjoy life the way God intended. I urge you to do that, too!

Have you taken time to slow down or simplify your life recently? If so, how did you feel? Share it here!

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Nostalgia Ride

Posted September 30, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

Yesterday after church, I rode Dakota to the Mayport Ferry. The strong headwind fought against me as I cranked along. It also brought in a smell that I’d so quickly forgotten: the salt marsh. There’s nothing like the scent of brackish water when the St. Johns River mixes with the tides of the Atlantic Ocean.

Salt marsh in north Florida

Salt marsh in north Florida

I climbed the Wonderwood Bridge, a monster that had been constructed after my relocation from Jacksonville, Florida. It towered over the Intracoastal Waterway, granting me the best seat in the city over the marsh.

On the beach side of the waterway, I rode through Florida hammock, trees that grow on each side of the roadway, creating a tunnel. Spanish moss hung from the branches. I marveled at how something so beautiful could be deadly to the trees.

I wound through the jetties, fishermen on one side of the road, and the naval base on the other. To the left I could see the shrimp boats. On the right, frigates and aircraft carriers, a fitting portrait of freedom, and the price that’s paid to insure it.

Shrimp boats docked at Mayport

Shrimp boats docked at Mayport

A mile later I wheeled into Mayport, a coastal town turned port in Jacksonville. Remnants of Old Florida lined both sides of the streets. I tried to imaging what Mayport was like when the Timacuan Indians paddled across the river in canoes to Ft. George Island, or as they called it in their native tongue, “Alimacani”.  Today, the Mayport ferry transports cars, trucks and pedestrians from side to side.

Rustic seafood restaurants were full of Sunday afternoon sightseers and seagulls hovered hoping for a morsel of fish from the patrons.

Singleton's Seafood Shack

Singleton’s Seafood Shack

This is old Florida, the place I remember when I first came. Palm trees, hammock lined roads that lead to brackish fishing holes. Wooden buildings that had long since grayed from year after year of salty winds from the sea.

I miss old Florida. I’m glad I got to see it today. I’m thankful I smelled the marsh and grateful for the odor of freshly caught shrimp lingering in the nets of the boats that docked for the day along the shore.

The St. Johns River from Mayport

The St. Johns River from Mayport

As I rode home, I felt blessed by having experienced the blistering feel of salt water, wind and sun on my face, and the sound of sea oats rustling in the ocean breeze. Though Florida is no longer my home, I am grateful for the Nostalgic Ride through the Florida I remember and can start back out on the Road to Freedom this week knowing I made memories today that will keep Old Florida alive in my heart.

What Nostalgia Ride have you taken recently? Share it here!

 

 

 

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Light in the Midst of Darkness

Posted September 19, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

After I tore the ligament in my knee and was picked up on the side of the road and taken to the farm outside Henderson, Kentucky to recover, my host warned me about it being very dark at night. She helped me up to my room on the second floor and said goodnight.

Oh, that hurts!

Oh, that hurts!

The pain in my knee chased away any hope of sleep so I opened the blinds overlooking the backyard and endless cornfields. She was right. The pitch black reached out to choke out any hope of the light of day. 

Miles away across the fields, a beacon of life flashed. Somewhere in a distant field, a bright white light warned pilots that a tower was beneath it. For the next two weeks, I fell asleep staring at the light in the middle of nowhere.

Though I was not concerned about my knee or what would come of the Road to Freedom Tour, there was still uncertainty. God used that light to remind me to keep my eyes fixed on him when darkness comes. Though my knee hurt, nothing had changed, really. I was still on the Road to Freedom. I still ministered to hurting women. And I didn’t know where I’d go next, how long I’d be there or what would happen while I was there. 

We all face darkness in our lives, times when we are engulfed in blackness that is palpable. You’ve felt it. Maybe you’re feeling as you read this. But there really is a light in the midst of the darkness.

the farm2

It reminded me of when I was a police officer. Because I worked rotating shifts, every January, April, July and October I landed on the midnight shift. I hated it. There was a time in the night that became so dark, I just knew it was going to choke out all life and hope of tomorrow.

But, only a moment later, I was see just the fainted hint of life creeping over the eastern horizon. I soon learned to look forward to the darkest part of the night, because I knew dawn ran right on its heels.

The darkest part of the night is just before the dawn. No matter how dark our circumstances become, there is ALWAYS a light in the midst of darkness. Always.

Heading Out at Sunrise

Had I not positioned myself to see the light in the dark fields on the farm, I would have missed it. I would have looked out into pitch blackness in the pain of my circumstance: a torn knee ligament. But I looked for a light. When I found it, every night I fixed my eyes on it and let it draw me near. The darkness only served to brighten the light.

No matter what your circumstances are right now, there is a brightly shining light in the midst of your darkness. Focus on that. Draw near to it and don’t take your eyes off it. Soon enough, the darkness will surrender to the dawn of a new day and you’ll be filled with hope! 

Are you in a dark time right now? Or did you just come out into the light? Share it here!

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Your Life in an Hour

Posted August 30, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.
Helga and me... new budds

Helga and me… new budds

Remember Helga, the German lady I wrote about in my Bride # 497  blog post? I had privilege of seeing her again yesterday. I could tell she was a bit down, and lonely.

I settled into a chair across the table from her as she reached into her memory and began to pull out stories. She recounted nights in Germany when she danced the night away with soldiers who were lucky enough to punch her dance card. 

She also told of walking out of the bomb shelter to find a German and Russian tank about the square off. She ran back into the shelter while a man waved a white flag to let them know there were innocent people inside who meant not harm to either army.

We laughed when she remembered how Russian soldiers who came to her home accidentally flushed potatoes down the toilet, not knowing what it was. They’d blasted it with their machine guns while screaming, “SABOTAGE!!!!”

I’ve never heard these stories on the news. Nor have I read them in a book but they are so vital and full of the realness of what

individuals suffered in World War II.

Helga’s face lit up as she regaled us with story after story of dancers, soldiers and coming to America. She left the big city of Berlin andSoldiers Executing Improvised Explosive Device Sweep in Iraq landed on a farm in the back country outside Nebo, Kentucky. Chickens and horses harassed her on her trips to the outhouse. She was completely out of her element, and yet, love made a way.

Love taught Helga how to live in America. She followed her husband to the hills where he’d been bread, across a wide ocean in a terrible war. She worked hard in a strange, new world and found a way to be happy, content and successful.

Today, Helga lives alone and doesn’t get many visitors. Her daughter-in-law, Clydean, takes food to her every day and sits with her while she eats. Her life and history are so rich with amazing experiences and yet, there is no one there to listen.

So Helga barely took a breath during our hour stay. She forgot about her loneliness. She forgot about her pain. For a brief hour, she was waltzing with a handsome man around the dance floor in her homeland, knowing she’d been lucky enough to grab the greatest catch.

As I hugged her goodbye and rode off, I wondered if I’d be able to tell my life story in an hour. I wondered if anyone would be there to listen when I’m 89. Helga is one of the most wealthy women I’ve ever met. No, her wealth does not reflect in her bank account and she lives in a modest home. Her wealth is in the rich life she’s lived.

WaltzingHelga’s story should be told. The history of the war from the eyes of a child is priceless. The struggles she faced as a young bride in a strange culture are revealing and her zest for life is infectious. I was filled to the brim when I walked out of Helga’s home. In my mind’s eye, I was right there in that bomb shelter with her. I danced the polka with her. I suffered through the outhouse.

I thank God that Helga and my lives have crossed. I’m richly blessed by her life, both the history of her life past, and the fullness of her
presence today. I hope I can have that rich, full life to talk about when I have an hour with someone willing to listen.

God bless you, Helga, dear friend.

If you had an hour to tell your life story, what would you say? 

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Live On Purpose: Tribute to Todd Satterfield

Posted August 19, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

Gift from Girls in McDonalds in Henderson KYI never met Todd. He passed away more than a week ago from cancer. He was 33. What I did meet was his influence from total strangers in McDonald’s in Henderson, Kentucky.

On Saturday, I told the story of two young ladies who Blessed me… on purpose. They approached me in the fast food joint and asked, “Are you the bicycle lady?” When I confirmed my identity, they said, “We’ve been sent to bless you… on purpose.”

They handed me a $10 McDonald’s gift card, a small bottle of water and a note that said, “You’ve been blessed on purpose.” It also contained “+1”.

When I reached my destination, over grilled hamburgers I told the story. They knew exactly what it meant and they told me about Todd.

Candlelight Memorial for Todd

Candlelight Memorial for Todd

Todd was diagnosed with esophageal in 2011. He knew he had a hard road ahead of him and determined he was going to live his life for God, “On Purpose”. 

Todd studied his Bible while receiving chemo therapy treatments and determined that, no matter how he felt, he would always try to influence at least one more (or +1) to move closer to Christ.

Though he left this small border town over a week ago, his influence is already far reaching and getting stronger by the minute. That’s what compelled two young women to approach a total stranger in spandex and helmet hair, reach out to her in a random act of kindness. 

As I talked to the local people, two things became crystal clear:

 

1) EVERYONE knows Todd Satterfield, either personally or by his reputation to put others before himself.

2) His spirit is alive and well in this town.

Right now, as I’m on this bicycle tour, I am living on purpose, but as I listened to his story, I lamented over those endless days I’ve let slip by without a purpose. Without reaching out to others. Without giving a drink of water in His name.

Todd was married "on purpose"  in Hospice

Todd was married “on purpose” in Hospice

Todd passed on to eternity the same way he lived… on purpose. He refused to let anyone say he lost his battle with cancer. He fought the good fight and God healed him the way He saw fit. There is no loss in that.

Todd will be missed here in Henderson but he will not be forgotten. His influence will be found on the local baseball fields where he once played and coached. It can be seen in the candlelight memorials as locals come out to honor him and commit to living their own lives on purpose. 

Todd gave me water +1 by ministering to me in a very big way. 

Do you live your life on purpose? If not, why not start now? Thank you Todd for reminding us all we’re not in a dress rehearsal and we must live life on purpose TODAY.

 

Rest in peace, brave soldier. You have fought the good fight. Your name and your mission will live on in the hearts of us all. 

 

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Fried Green Tomatoes

Posted August 18, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.
Fried Green Tomatoes

Fried Green Tomatoes

Last night, after spending the day wandering around the quaint little town of Henderson, Kentucky, my new friends made a southern delicacy: Fried Green Tomatoes. Along with fried okra, this was the highlight of my day. 

Winding along the Ohio River was great. Visiting the John Audobon State Park was beautiful. Fried green tomatoes were the perfect end to a southern August Saturday. 

I didn’t like them when I was a kid. Ice cream was much better, but Danny cooked these to perfection. I couldn’t stop eating them. And he had plenty that he pulled from his garden out back. 

As I sat eating them and writing this blog post, I asked an online friend if she’d like some. She

Fried Okra

Fried Okra

turned me down flat. I asked her if she had ever eaten them but she hadn’t. 

I have to admit they don’t sound at all. That’s probably why I wouldn’t eat them as a kid. As I washed them down with sweet tea, I wondered how many blessings we miss out on because we aren’t willing to try something new, or to get out of our comfort zones.

Fried green tomatoes are a symbol of something really good that is hidden behind a belief of bad. So much of life is a blessing in disguise. God places so many blessings in front of us but we don’t see them because we can’t get past our belief that it isn’t a blessing.

For a woman who lives in fear or suffers from PTSD, their entire world is fried green tomatoes. They have a bad taste in their mouths because of what’s happened to them and in most cases are unwilling to put their emotional taste buds to the test again. 

Henderson, Kentucky

Henderson, Kentucky

But blessings in life are rarely served up in an ice cream sundae dish. Many times they are deep fried and appear to be something really awful. Only when we taste and see will we enjoy the glory of God’s hidden blessings. 

I’m so glad I had fried green tomatoes tonight. Not only is my belly satisfied, but my heart soars as I remember to taste and see that the Lord is good. 

So, have you had your fried green tomatoes? 

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More Than You’re Capable Of

Posted August 14, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

From the Farm in KYI did not post this as early as I normally would for two very important reasons:

1) I was exhausted from Monday’s 4 thunderstorm day and needed a really good night’s sleep before I wrote this.

2) I wanted to make sure I formulated this idea before putting it in print.

 

At the beginning of this adventure, I told you I’d not only share the good, but the bad as well. Monday was surely the worst “bad” of this journey… perhaps even in my life.

As I look back on that time, I realize I was accomplishing much more than I”m capable of doing in myself.

The rain was coming down so hard, I could not see more than a few feet in front of me. I’d picked up about fifteen additional pounds in Kentucky Countrysiderainwater on my tent and gear. Thankfully my panniers were waterproof.

If I lost my footing, slipped or got out of balance and dropped my bike, I would have not been able to pull it back upright. 

I pushed up Balls Hill in six inches of rain water rushing down the hill in the opposite direction. I have a shoulder injury. It was the end of a long day of climbing really tall hills. Each time I planted my foot, my leg wobbled unsteadily. I was at my limit.

I wanted to crawl into a ball like a rolly-polly bug.

Kentucky HillsideSuddenly the faces began a slide show in my mind. One by one, my heart replayed the encounters I’ve had along this journey. The lives God has touched through our paths crossing. I thought of how their lives will improve for them having faced their fear and found their freedom.

I realized that I would not be used of God to help more women overcome their fear if I rolled up in a ball and called it quits. A strength rose up from within me. Something more than I’m capable of in myself. With a new commit–for them–I defied the elements and pushed up that hill. 

Looking back on that moment, I realized a few things that I want to share with you:

1) God doesn’t usually take over until you reach the end of yourself. Had he done that before, I may have accidentally thought my strength was improving with the exercise I’m getting. What’s more, though I’d reached the end of my strength, God’s strength is limitless.

2) No matter how bad the conditions become, there is always–truly, ALWAYS–a way out. I was able to get to a home where Pat gave me sweet tea and her husband, Charlie, loaded my soaked bike in the back of his truck. He drove me the last three miles to my destination. 

3) The decisions I wanted to make in that desperate moment would have been the wrong one. Thankfully, God has shown me over Chief Latiga Campground, AL 4and over again that I should not make decisions in those heated moments, but rather get through the incident, then reassess. I’m so glad I did!

4) Never make a life altering decision before you’re rested. Now that I’ve had a couple of nights indoors in nice, soft, dry beds, I know I need to press onward. Without the rest, I may have hitched a ride with a southbound trucker. 

For women who are faced with fear after a violent assault, these principles apply to their lives as well. That’s why I’m writing this today. I want them to learn from my desire to quit and from my turning to God, relying on His strength.

No matter what you’re facing, through God’s unlimited and all-powerful strength, you can accomplish more than you’re capable of. You may reach the end of your own strength, but that’s where He takes over and continues to move you in the direction He wants you to go.

Rely on Him! He will get  you through whatever you’re facing. If God can empower a drenched and drained 56 year old woman in the middle of a blinding thunderstorm to push her bicycle up a mountain in six inches of rushing water, He can help you with whatever you’re facing!

Trust him today! You’ll be glad you did!

 

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Blessings Out of Nowhere, USA

Posted July 23, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.
Camping in the Pavilion of  North Glencoe Baptist Church

Camping in the Pavilion of North Glencoe Baptist Church

Sunday night was quite an exciting adventure. I got caught in a very large and powerful thunderstorm. The good news was that I found refuge in McDonald’s. The bad news was that would close at 11pm. 

In the middle of nowhere. In the middle of the night. In the middle of a blinding rainstorm. I think that sums up the three strike rule. 

A call to the police department just confirmed they would not allow me to pitch my tent anywhere. So, I did what any female traveling alone in a strange town on a bicycle on a stormy Sunday night would do. I prayed.

I finally saw a nice looking elderly lady come in with what appeared to be her great grandson. I asked her if she was coming from church. She proudly said she was. I explained my dilemma and she referred me to a Baptist church a half mile up the hill. I packed my stuff back onto my bike, put on my rain gear and turned on my lights. 

I prayed my way to the church. Thank God there were still people there. The pastor said I could pitch my tent but suggested I walk my

Something will always get in your way. Relax and enjoy it!

Something will always get in your way. Relax and enjoy it!

bike about a half mile up a trail to their recreation facility where they had pavilions. I could pitch my ten under one of those and stay dry for the night.

The Lord faithfully provided!

The next morning, I packed up my gear and was on my way. My next destination was Huntsville, AL. Though I had no plans to go to Huntsville at the beginning of the trip, for whatever reason, the Lord was sending me back to my roots. I was born in Huntsville. That’s where my parents were laid to rest. I haven’t been back to Huntsville since 1996. 

And, no worries. The only thing standing in my way was 75 miles and two mountains: Sand Mountain and Montosano. No big deal, right? After getting a stern warning about hit and run drivers in Boaz from a police Leutinant in Atalla, I headed north, toward the brick wall that awaited. 

Right before the ascent of Sand Mountain, I stopped to pray and mentally prepare for the hardest ride of my trip, a car pulled over in front of me. A man got out, walked back to my car and said, “D0 you know what’s up ahead, lady?”

Unfortunately, I did.

At first he offered to take me over the mountain. I was grateful. We loaded my gear in his car and Dakota onto his bike rack. When he found out I was headed to Huntsville, he insisted on taking me the entire way: 60 miles one way. Apparently, the storms were moving in rapidly from the northwest, right where I was headed.

Author Suzy Parish and family at Rosie's Cantina. Pure Heaven!

Author Suzy Parish and family at Rosie’s Cantina. Pure Heaven!

He preached to me the entire trip, except for the few moments it took to buy my lunch. He gave me a can of maze to protect myself. I accidentally left it in his car, along with my cycling gloves but it didn’t matter. I have warring angels surrounding me anyway.

Right in the middle of nowhere when I least expected for anyone to reach out and help, God brought them right to me. As I write this, I’m sitting comfortably in the home of a writer friend in Huntsville. We had dinner at Rosie’s Cantina, an amazing Mexican restaurant. Tomorrow, we will visit my parent’s graves. 

I never thought I’d head this way. It started in Atlanta, where I started elementary school and continues now in my hometown of Huntsville, AL. Right in the middle of nowhere, every bit of help I could ever ask for just showed up on a US highway. It showed up on a dark, stormy Sunday night and pointed the way to a dry pavilion. 

If you’re in the middle of nowhere right now, look around. God’s blessings are there. And, they are more than you can ever think, hope or imagine. 

I’ve learned to trust God to a greater degree than I have ever trusted before. God is great and mighty… even in Nowhere, USA.

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Such an Outpouring!

Posted July 8, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

cropped-Lake-Lure-NC-6.jpgOn Saturday, I made a special announcement on my blog. If you missed it, check it out here. I am days away from departing on a solo, cross country bicycle tour to help women who suffer from PTSD. 

Before Saturday, I had only shared my plans with 12 people who I could trust to support my plans. They may not understand why or how I would accomplish such a difficult task, but they understand me. 

But, Saturday I went public with my dream. That’s risky, because everyone has an opinion and don’t mind sharing it. I was expecting those types of responses but, I haven’t gotten a single one so far.

What I got instead was a barrage of comments, notes, phone calls, text messages, emails telling me how much my dream has inspired them. I had countless women email me and open up about the horror they suffer through silently. Until they read my blog post, they thought no one cared, and no one could help them.

Though admittedly, I’ve wanted to ride across country in the past, this is so much bigger than me. It’s bigger than PTSD, the fear bulldog wearing eyeglasses sleeping over a good novelwomen face or even the violent assault we endured. This is a long ride on the Road to Freedom

My New Book Has a Name!

Author Beth Vogt and I have been brainstorming for a while about a title. Thanks to her, I now have one for the book I’ll be writing as I travel:

Breakaway: Leave the Pain Behind and Embrace Your Dreams

That’s what I want each woman to do who has been imprisoned by the terror of PTSD. I want them to overcome… and to become all they were destined to be long before their peace was stolen from them.

It really is possible to get beyond the attack and live a normal life again. You can break away from the shackles that have held you back. 

This week, I’m on countdown. I have a few logistics to work out before I climb onto Dakota (my Waterford touring bicycle) and take to he open road. I’m still ironing out where I’ll actually start from. The weather where I’ve been training for three months has been riddled with almost constant rain. Very unusual weather pattern. I could start from here, but it certainly wouldn’t be a fun way to start a cross country journey.

I’ll either be leaving at the end of this week, or the first part of next week. I need your help. Here’s how:

Please follow my blog as I bring you with me down the Road to Freedom. If you are one who suffers from PTSD or have survived a violent assault, please know that I carry YOUR torch!

Help me get the word out. Share this with those who follow you on Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Pinterest and other social media. Feel free to use any photos I publish on my blog or on social media. Just identify me and my cause.

Write to me. Tell me your story. I’ll maintain your confidence. I want to encourage you. Remember, we’re in this together.

Facing Fear Cover FINAL 6-9-13Buy my current book released on Amazon: Facing Fear and Finding Freedom. Tell others about it.

Let me know if you would like for me to speak to your woman’s group. I can work my trip around any location in the mid to upper US. 

Pray for me. I want to connect with as many women across the country as I possibly can. Together, I’ll help them take back their lives.

I look forward to our journey. Thank you all for being my friends and faithful supporters. I will never be able to return the blessing to Cyclortouringthe degree you have blessed me.

Remember, Life is too short to not live it to its fullest. Your dream is too important to remain unlived.  God bless.

Do you have a dream? Are you living it? What’s stopping you? Share it here!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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