The day I've been dreading is here. I have no idea why I've been dreading this so much, but I have. Ten years is a long time to live without your son. While I know that there will be many more years without him, this milestone just seems so heavy to me. I haven't been sleeping well. My dreams are interrupted with snipets of his hospitalization. I don't get it.
In a way, Allan and I should be celebrating that we made it this far. Ten long and hard years. Instead, I am hunkering down so that the date on the calendar will change. Then I can breath again, for a day. The day after I will just want that calendar date to change so that Ava's 4th Anniversary will pass. .
After the passing of their Anniversaries I try to feel Christmassy. They anticipation, the excitement, the Holly Jolly. But it's never the same. Yet, it's not devoid of joy. It can't be. That would defeat the purpose of the birth of Christ. I do feel joy. I am just without the jolly. It's nice to no longer be swaddled in grief every minute. Now my grief is different than that. My perspective is different. I love to give gifts, yet at the same time I don't really care. Not out of a pity party that I don't have two of my children here, but because it's not what makes happiness stick.
There is anticipation and excitement to unwrap the pretty packages under the tree. To see if you get what you wish for. What you may even long for. Those gifts, while fun and exciting, are temporal. I'm not saying that we shouldn't give gifts at Christmas. It's just that for, me I need to remember WHY I give the gifts. I give them out of the love I have for my family and friends. I give them to celebrate that fact that Jesus' birth was God's gift to us. Had that not happened, I would have spent this last decade of my life down trodden and empty. I would be without hope.
I think of so many of our Joy-Hope families who are new on this journey through grief. They are trying desperately to assimilate the weight of the emptiness around their Christmas Tree with their external need to feel "jolly". That just winds up ugly and in a pile of tears. You feel like you are doing something wrong, because you don't feel like celebrating, or shopping, or wrapping, or mailing out cards. Each year I try to handle only what won't put me over the edge. Sometimes I run out of steam sooner than others. I pray and ask God to fill my tank and help me face those traditions I dread. Then I ask for a little courage and a little time to just cry as much as I need to.
Will you pray for us? Will you pray for our Joy-Hope families? Will you pray for those in your life who are facing this time of year with heavy hearts? I would love to change focus from the "have to be" to "get to be" joyous. Having to be joyous at Christmas really is external. Getting to be Joyous is Eternal. When you think about and realize why Jesus was born, you can't help to feel a tiny bubble of joy in the recesses of your soul no matter how dark and heavy your burden. God came to earth as Man so we could relate. So He could die. So we, who believe, can live with Him in Heaven.
That's a tough pill to swallow for those whose hopes and dreams have been crushed by a God whom we think owes us good things and all our hearts desires. God wants good things for us, however Christianity is not a "get out of trouble" free card. We still live in a world of brokenness, sin and hurt. We live in a world where we sound the gong for peace and living in harmony. We live in a world where it seems to be a good person is enough. We dangerously live in a world where Jesus is not the root of all these ideas. Yet, although we don't recognize it, He is. Living in this world with peace in my soul comes from listening and talking with God. He is the reason that some of you think I'm brave. He's the reason I have gotten out of bed each day over the past 10 years without my son. He is the reason for you to have joy and hope in our hurtful and broken world.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Friday, August 16, 2013
A Decade of Discovery
Ten years ago today, my life long dream came true when my baby boy was born. He was 5 weeks early and had the most amazing eyes. I was in love. No better feeling in the world. I was finally a Mom. Such a crazy notion to wrap my head around. It didn't matter, I was all in.
When we first learned that something was "wrong" with our beautiful, blue eyed boy our little family utopia began to unravel. This was not what I thought parenting was while I was playing Barbie as a child! How could this be? I would just hold Eric and sing to him. He couldn't hear but he'd face me and stare at my mouth with those piercing blue eyes. Then he would slowly put his head on my chest to feel the vibrations of my voice. When I stopped, he would pick his head up and look at me like -umm where's the song? Naturally, I'd continue.
Just after three months old we learned that Eric was not "just" deaf. Things happened so fast from there and on December 16, 2003 Eric died, in our arms.
I remember leaving the hospital, shell shocked, exhausted and lost. Allan sat beside me and I have no idea what he was thinking- I couldn't even comprehend my own thoughts let alone reflect on his grief.
The next morning I wondered- "Am I a Mom?" and "What do I do now?"
Being Eric's mom was the most amazing feeling. He was who I was waiting for to enter my life. It's so hard to remember that feeling without him here. But he is the only one who gets to hold the title of "making" me a Mom.
This birthday is just so tough. They all are in some ways- watching the days slip away and the distance between then in now is just so vast. But 10. That's a big one. I remember when I couldn't WAIT to be two full hands old! I see Eric's contemporaries playing sports and celebrating the big 1-0. I can't believe that he is not here and that in 4 too short months this grief, while it waxes and wanes, can be so heavy still.
Mothering a child who has died is tricky business. He's no longer with us, but our love for him is just as poignant as if I were scrambling to make a special breakfast, and buy birthday balloons today.
I've been a mom for 10 years. A decade, one 1/4 of my life. This milestone is squelched by the need to speak about it in hushed tones for fear that someone will become uncomfortable with the unfortunate stories of my life. Even though he is not here and I am not after him for picking up his shoes, toys and not putting his dirty clothes in the laundry I am still Eric's Mom. I am proud of that fact, because frankly, he was one heck of an awesome kid. He had an old soul and an easy going nature. He was bubbling over with personality so much that it makes me wonder what a handful he would have been if he could actually produce energy.
I wish like you would not believe that I was too busy with birthday prep and lots of crazy kids running around this morning. But that was not the plan for my sweet boy's big ten-oh day. I know that God is keeping us together as we walk though these milestones empty handed. At the same time I know that I would want no other plan for Eric's life (he wouldn't have been him if the plan were different).
These ten years have been tough. I suppose that would be quite the understatement, actually. I remember seeing a patient soon after Eric died. She was telling me about her children. As she was telling me about them, she paused and went for it. She has a son who was a "blue baby in those days" and just like that she was right there with him, her eyes brimming with love and sadness 53 years later. It gave me permission to feel "that sad" missing my boy.
I am not talking about the "stay in bed, don't move past it" grief. I am talking about "that sad because I love" grief. The "God will carry us but it still hurts grief". The "sometimes I don't want to be brave" grief. Grief will always be a part of my life. When Eric died I never ever wanted that event to define me. But over the past decade it has. The experiences in your life morph into how you view the world, how you shape your actions.
What a sticky situation. You are hurt, because living just hurts sometimes. You expect that God will provide all the answers and you will ride off into the sunset. You think "those things just don happen to ME". I know you do. I did too. Sometimes I revert back to the idea that it shouldn't have happened to me. So now in the crisis- what is left? A life changing event, grief and a God who knows best.
HOLD. THE. PHONE.
God knows best? He has MY best interest at heart? (Helloooooo? Where the heck are my babies???) YUP. It's true. I have these awful gut wrenching events that occurred in the last 10 years. I can EASILY decide that I am going to take the reigns of my ship and glibly move forward feeling wronged and entitled, letting those feelings as a result of our tragedy reign supreme and define me.
That's not what God wanted for us or for Eric and Ava. They were not mistakes. They were gifts. Yes, it's absolutely stinky and crappy that they are gone. Some may even think that it's unfair. (Although I try not to focus on that, it does crop up during some world class pity parties I admit.) But I stand before you today, 10 years later, saying that it was God's plan. Our family would not be who we are today if we didn't step out onto the plank of grief and jump- trusting that God would catch us and move us to safety.
That is Eric's story. He made me a Mom. I learned to love in a whole new way. I learned to hurt at a whole new depth. I am learning that God, even when you don't love the choices He's made, molds me and is the one who defines me. Not through my sorrow and despair (and oh yes those feeling still are present) but through Joy and Hope.
Join me through tear filled eyes as I wish my sweet sweet boy a "Happy Birthday." Oh my goodness, how I miss him.
When we first learned that something was "wrong" with our beautiful, blue eyed boy our little family utopia began to unravel. This was not what I thought parenting was while I was playing Barbie as a child! How could this be? I would just hold Eric and sing to him. He couldn't hear but he'd face me and stare at my mouth with those piercing blue eyes. Then he would slowly put his head on my chest to feel the vibrations of my voice. When I stopped, he would pick his head up and look at me like -umm where's the song? Naturally, I'd continue.
Just after three months old we learned that Eric was not "just" deaf. Things happened so fast from there and on December 16, 2003 Eric died, in our arms.
I remember leaving the hospital, shell shocked, exhausted and lost. Allan sat beside me and I have no idea what he was thinking- I couldn't even comprehend my own thoughts let alone reflect on his grief.
The next morning I wondered- "Am I a Mom?" and "What do I do now?"
Being Eric's mom was the most amazing feeling. He was who I was waiting for to enter my life. It's so hard to remember that feeling without him here. But he is the only one who gets to hold the title of "making" me a Mom.
This birthday is just so tough. They all are in some ways- watching the days slip away and the distance between then in now is just so vast. But 10. That's a big one. I remember when I couldn't WAIT to be two full hands old! I see Eric's contemporaries playing sports and celebrating the big 1-0. I can't believe that he is not here and that in 4 too short months this grief, while it waxes and wanes, can be so heavy still.
Mothering a child who has died is tricky business. He's no longer with us, but our love for him is just as poignant as if I were scrambling to make a special breakfast, and buy birthday balloons today.
I've been a mom for 10 years. A decade, one 1/4 of my life. This milestone is squelched by the need to speak about it in hushed tones for fear that someone will become uncomfortable with the unfortunate stories of my life. Even though he is not here and I am not after him for picking up his shoes, toys and not putting his dirty clothes in the laundry I am still Eric's Mom. I am proud of that fact, because frankly, he was one heck of an awesome kid. He had an old soul and an easy going nature. He was bubbling over with personality so much that it makes me wonder what a handful he would have been if he could actually produce energy.
I wish like you would not believe that I was too busy with birthday prep and lots of crazy kids running around this morning. But that was not the plan for my sweet boy's big ten-oh day. I know that God is keeping us together as we walk though these milestones empty handed. At the same time I know that I would want no other plan for Eric's life (he wouldn't have been him if the plan were different).
These ten years have been tough. I suppose that would be quite the understatement, actually. I remember seeing a patient soon after Eric died. She was telling me about her children. As she was telling me about them, she paused and went for it. She has a son who was a "blue baby in those days" and just like that she was right there with him, her eyes brimming with love and sadness 53 years later. It gave me permission to feel "that sad" missing my boy.
I am not talking about the "stay in bed, don't move past it" grief. I am talking about "that sad because I love" grief. The "God will carry us but it still hurts grief". The "sometimes I don't want to be brave" grief. Grief will always be a part of my life. When Eric died I never ever wanted that event to define me. But over the past decade it has. The experiences in your life morph into how you view the world, how you shape your actions.
What a sticky situation. You are hurt, because living just hurts sometimes. You expect that God will provide all the answers and you will ride off into the sunset. You think "those things just don happen to ME". I know you do. I did too. Sometimes I revert back to the idea that it shouldn't have happened to me. So now in the crisis- what is left? A life changing event, grief and a God who knows best.
HOLD. THE. PHONE.
God knows best? He has MY best interest at heart? (Helloooooo? Where the heck are my babies???) YUP. It's true. I have these awful gut wrenching events that occurred in the last 10 years. I can EASILY decide that I am going to take the reigns of my ship and glibly move forward feeling wronged and entitled, letting those feelings as a result of our tragedy reign supreme and define me.
That's not what God wanted for us or for Eric and Ava. They were not mistakes. They were gifts. Yes, it's absolutely stinky and crappy that they are gone. Some may even think that it's unfair. (Although I try not to focus on that, it does crop up during some world class pity parties I admit.) But I stand before you today, 10 years later, saying that it was God's plan. Our family would not be who we are today if we didn't step out onto the plank of grief and jump- trusting that God would catch us and move us to safety.
That is Eric's story. He made me a Mom. I learned to love in a whole new way. I learned to hurt at a whole new depth. I am learning that God, even when you don't love the choices He's made, molds me and is the one who defines me. Not through my sorrow and despair (and oh yes those feeling still are present) but through Joy and Hope.
Join me through tear filled eyes as I wish my sweet sweet boy a "Happy Birthday." Oh my goodness, how I miss him.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
ADVENTURES WITH AVA.
TODAY IS AVA'S BIRTHDAY WE MIGHT GO PUT FLOWERS AT HER GRAVE. WE HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH AVA. SHE CAME TO PRESCHOOL WITH ME. SHE HELPED GIVE OUT CANDY AT HALLOWEEN. I GOT TO FEED HER AND HOLD HER. I LOVE HER SO MUCH. ~ LOVE, ALEXA
I love ava .
AVA, I AM GLAD YOU ARE MY SISTER. I REALLY MISS YOU. YOU MADE IT THE BEST. WE ARE SAD THAT YOU HAD TO GO. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AVA. I REALLY LOVE YOU. LOVE EMILY.
Ava's Birthday
ELAINA AVA EMILY ALEXA MOMMY DADDY
ERIC JOY-HOPE FOUNDATION
AVA'S FAVORITE COLOR IS YELLOW.
NOW AVA IS WITH JESUS. SHE DIED ON 12/18/09.
WHEN SHE DIED WE WERE VERY SAD.
AVA
ELAINA
I LOVE HER.
ERIC JOY-HOPE FOUNDATION
AVA'S FAVORITE COLOR IS YELLOW.
NOW AVA IS WITH JESUS. SHE DIED ON 12/18/09.
WHEN SHE DIED WE WERE VERY SAD.
AVA
ELAINA
I LOVE HER.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Just keep Swiming?
In my daily wanderings if am told "I don't know how you do it"- in reference to working, homeschooling, Mommying, wifeing and running Joy-Hope Foundation. Well, here's the tip. I don't, remotely "do it" all. No way, no how. Not a chance. You should see my house, but I won't let you because it's THAT disgusting. Seriously, I wish I was blessed with the ability to not see the grime. Alas, that would be too easy. I see it. It torments me. It eats me and makes it hard to focus on the stuff I have to do.
This weekend was the first weekend we had "off" in months. By "off" I mean we had nothing on the calendar, at least for Saturday.So here we are, a free Saturday. Guess what kids? Want a fun family weekend??? Let's clean! (Oh they were just SO excited!) Clean we did, and I don't mean the cursory "someone is coming over in 20 minutes clean sweep" clean. I mean, let's start under the kitchen sink- (oh look at the science project.) We should investigate said project. We are now proud owners of a new garbage disposal. (Not a leaky connection. A HOLE in the wall of the dispenser.)
Here's the kicker. When you deep clean, and you are one who tends to be ultra hard on herself, and you find one of Ava's old wipe dispensers (with wipes) behind the front load washing machine- cleaning becomes way more than making the house gleam. Just when you think all they lurking Eric Ava memories are in their proper places, bam! There is a baby hat that you gave to the girls for their dolls.
It's depressing and frustrating. Makes you want to scream, "Hey God, I'm trying to CLEAN here. You know, so I don't hate my house and myself. You know, so I can step into the shoes YOU asked me to wear. Thanks for the breakdown in front of my 8 year old. Thanks a ton."
Instead, I composed myself, tried not to let it beat me and kept up the cleaning. It's hard to continue and fight through the grime and the emotions without feeling emotionally spent. (I'm totally beginning to understand why people become hoarders.) Of course becoming emotionally spent then leads to frustration that you can't get anything you start finished. Which leads to "why are we doing what we do?" and "How can we trim the fat, so to speak."
All of this is such a negative cycle. It serves nothing and leads to nowhere. It's not how God wants us to look at ourselves. It certainly is not how HE looks at us. To break up the self loathing, it was off to the store to get a new disposal and a new vacuum cleaner, why wouldn't that be broken, too?
Monday I found myself, still on the fritz. I found out that after 15 months battling with planter's fasciitis and a Hail Mary pass of my PT trying to strengthen and loosen my hip (that's hurt for at least 15 years) we decided it was time to take the plunge and try an expensive treatment on both my feet. Non invasive, same technology as what they use to break up kidney stones. A "you can be on your feet the same day treatment". A "94% are cured" treatment. So off I go today, ready to come home and bake the cookies I promised my Dad for installing the disposal. I'd be more optimistic about it's restorative/curative capabilities, but since when do I get the medical "miracle"? It always gives me pause to see that those experiences with Eric and Ava have trained me to stop and think that it is never "just" (insert run of the mill diagnosis).
This treatment will keep me from running for about 12 weeks. I KNOW how fast 12 weeks can fly (ahem, where the heck did our summer go?), especially with our two biggest fundraisers on the horizon and 6 families that need to get out of dodge in queue. 12 weeks of not being able to pound out the crap in my head, to put distance on my grief and clear the grime in my mind seems like a life sentence. These 12 weeks are a big issue. These 12 weeks are during the bulk of anniversary time that Eric and Ava were on earth. I guess I can't run away from the smell and reminders this season, no more than I can run from lurking wipes and baby hats.
Yet, I treasure the smells and the lurking momento. I sometimes relish the sucker punch, the excuse to cry. I desire the physical reminders that they were HERE. In my arms, keeping me up at night doing what babies do best, here. But, I hate them all the same. For the same reasons, actually.
So today, my Dad takes me to my appointment- which is in the same building that my OB used to be in. I come home, sore, numb and tired. Can't walk around, cause I can't feel my feet. So I spend the day on the couch wishing I could be in the kitchen, making cookies for my Dad. (Which I did make the batter, since I felt I had SOMETHING to prove. What that something is remains to be seen).
Like a flood- the frustration of C-section recovery- sitting on the couch, wanting to care for my family came billowing back. In 1 week Ava and Eric's birthday's will pass. Sitting on the couch today just made me wistful for the frustrated, stuck on the couch feeling- but with a baby- whom you love more than you could ever express.
I've played more Candy Crush then I care to today. I can't make my left foot function right yet and I am praying for bedtime to descend upon us. That's when Elaina, who loves animals more than life, comes flying down the stairs. 2 of our 3 fish have succumbed for Ich.
The tears, the sobbing from three kids all at once. Those pitiful puffy eyes, the vacant looks of dread. All back, over fish. They were able to tell us that this reminds the of Ava dying. Emily was sweet and said that maybe Ava died so that they wouldn't be so upset about their fish. So we talked about perspective and how God sometimes uses events in your life to give you a different vantage point on a situation.
We (by we I mean Allan)cleaned the tank, (which if you know us is just a miracle), medicated the water and are hoping that Rebekah the lone fish does not fall to the fate that Ich holds for a fishy. Well, if I be honest I kinda wish we didn't have any fish left- we've had them for about 4 1/2 years and they are a pain. But for my broken hearted girls who are learning a hard perspective tonight, for their sake, I will rally around Rebekah the fish.
Who would have thought that fish would live longer than your baby? You would think that the death of a pet would prepare you for loss you are sure to face. I can tell you nothing can prepare you, on either side of the coin. Nor can you be prepared for the intrusive reminders, smells and thoughts whether you clean or not. They will still come. Why? Because God is giving you perspective.
I need to remember that I am His not mine. I need to see myself and this world through His eyes, not mine. I am reminded that this week, in particular, we Benton's apparently need to grieve a bit more and gain some perspective.
This weekend was the first weekend we had "off" in months. By "off" I mean we had nothing on the calendar, at least for Saturday.So here we are, a free Saturday. Guess what kids? Want a fun family weekend??? Let's clean! (Oh they were just SO excited!) Clean we did, and I don't mean the cursory "someone is coming over in 20 minutes clean sweep" clean. I mean, let's start under the kitchen sink- (oh look at the science project.) We should investigate said project. We are now proud owners of a new garbage disposal. (Not a leaky connection. A HOLE in the wall of the dispenser.)
Here's the kicker. When you deep clean, and you are one who tends to be ultra hard on herself, and you find one of Ava's old wipe dispensers (with wipes) behind the front load washing machine- cleaning becomes way more than making the house gleam. Just when you think all they lurking Eric Ava memories are in their proper places, bam! There is a baby hat that you gave to the girls for their dolls.
It's depressing and frustrating. Makes you want to scream, "Hey God, I'm trying to CLEAN here. You know, so I don't hate my house and myself. You know, so I can step into the shoes YOU asked me to wear. Thanks for the breakdown in front of my 8 year old. Thanks a ton."
Instead, I composed myself, tried not to let it beat me and kept up the cleaning. It's hard to continue and fight through the grime and the emotions without feeling emotionally spent. (I'm totally beginning to understand why people become hoarders.) Of course becoming emotionally spent then leads to frustration that you can't get anything you start finished. Which leads to "why are we doing what we do?" and "How can we trim the fat, so to speak."
All of this is such a negative cycle. It serves nothing and leads to nowhere. It's not how God wants us to look at ourselves. It certainly is not how HE looks at us. To break up the self loathing, it was off to the store to get a new disposal and a new vacuum cleaner, why wouldn't that be broken, too?
Monday I found myself, still on the fritz. I found out that after 15 months battling with planter's fasciitis and a Hail Mary pass of my PT trying to strengthen and loosen my hip (that's hurt for at least 15 years) we decided it was time to take the plunge and try an expensive treatment on both my feet. Non invasive, same technology as what they use to break up kidney stones. A "you can be on your feet the same day treatment". A "94% are cured" treatment. So off I go today, ready to come home and bake the cookies I promised my Dad for installing the disposal. I'd be more optimistic about it's restorative/curative capabilities, but since when do I get the medical "miracle"? It always gives me pause to see that those experiences with Eric and Ava have trained me to stop and think that it is never "just" (insert run of the mill diagnosis).
This treatment will keep me from running for about 12 weeks. I KNOW how fast 12 weeks can fly (ahem, where the heck did our summer go?), especially with our two biggest fundraisers on the horizon and 6 families that need to get out of dodge in queue. 12 weeks of not being able to pound out the crap in my head, to put distance on my grief and clear the grime in my mind seems like a life sentence. These 12 weeks are a big issue. These 12 weeks are during the bulk of anniversary time that Eric and Ava were on earth. I guess I can't run away from the smell and reminders this season, no more than I can run from lurking wipes and baby hats.
Yet, I treasure the smells and the lurking momento. I sometimes relish the sucker punch, the excuse to cry. I desire the physical reminders that they were HERE. In my arms, keeping me up at night doing what babies do best, here. But, I hate them all the same. For the same reasons, actually.
So today, my Dad takes me to my appointment- which is in the same building that my OB used to be in. I come home, sore, numb and tired. Can't walk around, cause I can't feel my feet. So I spend the day on the couch wishing I could be in the kitchen, making cookies for my Dad. (Which I did make the batter, since I felt I had SOMETHING to prove. What that something is remains to be seen).
Like a flood- the frustration of C-section recovery- sitting on the couch, wanting to care for my family came billowing back. In 1 week Ava and Eric's birthday's will pass. Sitting on the couch today just made me wistful for the frustrated, stuck on the couch feeling- but with a baby- whom you love more than you could ever express.
I've played more Candy Crush then I care to today. I can't make my left foot function right yet and I am praying for bedtime to descend upon us. That's when Elaina, who loves animals more than life, comes flying down the stairs. 2 of our 3 fish have succumbed for Ich.
The tears, the sobbing from three kids all at once. Those pitiful puffy eyes, the vacant looks of dread. All back, over fish. They were able to tell us that this reminds the of Ava dying. Emily was sweet and said that maybe Ava died so that they wouldn't be so upset about their fish. So we talked about perspective and how God sometimes uses events in your life to give you a different vantage point on a situation.
We (by we I mean Allan)cleaned the tank, (which if you know us is just a miracle), medicated the water and are hoping that Rebekah the lone fish does not fall to the fate that Ich holds for a fishy. Well, if I be honest I kinda wish we didn't have any fish left- we've had them for about 4 1/2 years and they are a pain. But for my broken hearted girls who are learning a hard perspective tonight, for their sake, I will rally around Rebekah the fish.
Who would have thought that fish would live longer than your baby? You would think that the death of a pet would prepare you for loss you are sure to face. I can tell you nothing can prepare you, on either side of the coin. Nor can you be prepared for the intrusive reminders, smells and thoughts whether you clean or not. They will still come. Why? Because God is giving you perspective.
I need to remember that I am His not mine. I need to see myself and this world through His eyes, not mine. I am reminded that this week, in particular, we Benton's apparently need to grieve a bit more and gain some perspective.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
#Remember
I've been wasting time lately. I don't really have it to waste, but yet there I sit, crushing candy, guessing the phrase and trying to come up with the most points on words with friends. The big surprise in my laziness is that lessons can be learned in such a back door fashion.
Guess that Phrase has the trending category #firstworldproblems. This category usually makes me laugh. Then there was a bombing at the Boston Marathon. Now it highlights so much more.
Our country seems to be having growing pains there are so many huge events, laws and movements gaining steam and drawing attention it's hard to keep up. The issues are polarizing and if you have an opinion, you tend to be labeled for it. Forever. It's on Facebook, Twitter, Google+, and Istagram so it MUST be who you are. FOREVER. (Or at least for our 20 second attention span.)
We get frustrated because we have to wait in line, be on hold, our parents won't pay for a smart phone. We don't want to be inconvenienced and we are impatient to have what we want, when we want it. Want to try a new recipe? Let's jump in the car and go buy marzipan.
Hard times hit. They inevitably will. Our "easy" living intersects with searching for a deeper understanding of who we are and who we've become in light of the "event". We spend time trying to figure out how to assimilate who we were into who we (mostly involuntarily) are becoming. We stretch, (hopefully grow), and look for "something" to aid us in the discoveries we make about ourselves. We seek and search for goodness to prevail and for life to become stagnant again.
I lean on God. I Run. I try to help others. I Pray. I Run. I Give my ideals over to what God wants me to do. I Run. I Pray while I Run.
Running is great. It's right out the door. Literally. It's healthier than drinking, drugs, binging on food, giving in to the anger that is sure to come with the involuntarily change. It's a chance to disconnect. It's a chance to work out the emotional pain, which is far greater than the physical pain from running.
Running provides camaraderie, service and a chance to accomplish something you never thought possible. It doesn't matter the distance, the time or if you have to take a walk break. It's YOUR accomplishment. It's about encouragement, and supporting each other. It's not always about when you cross the finish line, but why you did and who is there to share in that moment.
So I Run. I do the best I can in that moment. I Run to support a cause, to support a friend, to remember that Eric and Ava never could make the energy so they could live.
4.15.2013 Tens of thousands of people who, just like me (with a lot more natural talent and sheer determination and drive), took their first steps onto the pavement for their own personal reasons. These people kept on trucking to their BQ and were, in that moment, experiencing their dream come true.
The bombs exploded and lives, countless lives were changed in a heartbeat.
The country is reeling. The FBI is searching. Families are crying in agony.
My heart is deeply wounded and bleeding for all who are affected. I can't comprehend the place you have to get to to think that violence is the answer.
I escape on my phone. My phrase is "I'm thirsty and I only have water."
We are Americans. We mostly fight against each other in opinion, law making and who is ultimately right. We are so blessed that the ever present threat of a bombing does not loom daily. We are so blessed that we had first responders and hospitals with in reach so those injured could have medical attention as quickly as possible. One life lost is devastating. Living in constant fear of the potential of something going wrong is debilitating.
While we groan and moan and feel entitled. Let's remember that in America we are blessed to worry about the miles we get in. We are blessed that we don't have to always worry about if a bomb will go off in our front yard. We are blessed to have a military full of men and women who are willing to lay down their lives and separate from their families so we can can live the way we do.
In America, we can get the water. We can run and we are free to worship. We do not need to be debilitated by fear of "what if".
I am ready. I am ready to step out of fear and dark shadows. I am ready to unite and take my steps out the door.
I will Pray. I will Follow Him. I will be Free. I will get my water from my race belt when I'm thirsty. I am grateful and I will #RememberBoston. I will RUN.
Guess that Phrase has the trending category #firstworldproblems. This category usually makes me laugh. Then there was a bombing at the Boston Marathon. Now it highlights so much more.
Our country seems to be having growing pains there are so many huge events, laws and movements gaining steam and drawing attention it's hard to keep up. The issues are polarizing and if you have an opinion, you tend to be labeled for it. Forever. It's on Facebook, Twitter, Google+, and Istagram so it MUST be who you are. FOREVER. (Or at least for our 20 second attention span.)
We get frustrated because we have to wait in line, be on hold, our parents won't pay for a smart phone. We don't want to be inconvenienced and we are impatient to have what we want, when we want it. Want to try a new recipe? Let's jump in the car and go buy marzipan.
Hard times hit. They inevitably will. Our "easy" living intersects with searching for a deeper understanding of who we are and who we've become in light of the "event". We spend time trying to figure out how to assimilate who we were into who we (mostly involuntarily) are becoming. We stretch, (hopefully grow), and look for "something" to aid us in the discoveries we make about ourselves. We seek and search for goodness to prevail and for life to become stagnant again.
I lean on God. I Run. I try to help others. I Pray. I Run. I Give my ideals over to what God wants me to do. I Run. I Pray while I Run.
Running is great. It's right out the door. Literally. It's healthier than drinking, drugs, binging on food, giving in to the anger that is sure to come with the involuntarily change. It's a chance to disconnect. It's a chance to work out the emotional pain, which is far greater than the physical pain from running.
Running provides camaraderie, service and a chance to accomplish something you never thought possible. It doesn't matter the distance, the time or if you have to take a walk break. It's YOUR accomplishment. It's about encouragement, and supporting each other. It's not always about when you cross the finish line, but why you did and who is there to share in that moment.
So I Run. I do the best I can in that moment. I Run to support a cause, to support a friend, to remember that Eric and Ava never could make the energy so they could live.
4.15.2013 Tens of thousands of people who, just like me (with a lot more natural talent and sheer determination and drive), took their first steps onto the pavement for their own personal reasons. These people kept on trucking to their BQ and were, in that moment, experiencing their dream come true.
The bombs exploded and lives, countless lives were changed in a heartbeat.
The country is reeling. The FBI is searching. Families are crying in agony.
My heart is deeply wounded and bleeding for all who are affected. I can't comprehend the place you have to get to to think that violence is the answer.
I escape on my phone. My phrase is "I'm thirsty and I only have water."
We are Americans. We mostly fight against each other in opinion, law making and who is ultimately right. We are so blessed that the ever present threat of a bombing does not loom daily. We are so blessed that we had first responders and hospitals with in reach so those injured could have medical attention as quickly as possible. One life lost is devastating. Living in constant fear of the potential of something going wrong is debilitating.
While we groan and moan and feel entitled. Let's remember that in America we are blessed to worry about the miles we get in. We are blessed that we don't have to always worry about if a bomb will go off in our front yard. We are blessed to have a military full of men and women who are willing to lay down their lives and separate from their families so we can can live the way we do.
In America, we can get the water. We can run and we are free to worship. We do not need to be debilitated by fear of "what if".
I am ready. I am ready to step out of fear and dark shadows. I am ready to unite and take my steps out the door.
I will Pray. I will Follow Him. I will be Free. I will get my water from my race belt when I'm thirsty. I am grateful and I will #RememberBoston. I will RUN.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Why I Run
Frustration. Exhaustion. Apathy.
I've been living here for a little while. It happens when life gets busy enough that you can't look ahead with so much in front of you. I find the negative emotions are so intertwined and can sneak up on me and cause catastrophic thinking if I am not too careful. It always starts with benign thoughts of "I can't", "I shouldn't" and the seed is planted. Mix that with extra shifts at work, tummy sick kids x2 weeks, a literal mountain of laundry, homeschooling, a load of non profit work, a budding jewelry business with Premier Designs, and feeling "off". It's no wonder I'm about to crash and burn.
I've been struggling with my fitness for over a year now. I am sad to say that the defeatist attitude is winning the battle. It began with a stress fracture and now I am battling plantar's facitis. This PT stint has been going on now for 2 months. I am progressing and trying to be patient with it. But today, I hit a breaking point. Who knew that the inability to do a proper squat would be the catalyst for the release of a bunch of pent up, unidentifiable emotions. Yup. Squats.
I got home and decided that maybe I want to quit all of everything. Yup. All of it. PT, pretending to be a runner, work, homeschooling, jewelry, laundry. Why bother?
So I decided to try to deal with my frustration on the pavement. I ran walked a 5K last weekend with my Sister in law, my race wife and my hubby. It didn't reinjure me so I decided that I need to get out there. Downloaded the couch to 5k app on my phone so that I wouldn't get over zealous and do too much and off I went.
The first mile was uneventful and no more encouraging than the tears shed over the inability to so a proper squat. I rounded the cul-de-sac and was looking at the sky. There was a bird. Soaring. I'm always watching birds. Then I noticed a white head and tail. I kept watching and it flew right over my head. A Bald Eagle soaring over the cul-de-sac. I snapped a quick picture with my iPhone and burst into tears. Oh how I miss my sweet baby girl!
In that moment my run/walk transcended. The Eagle was gone as quickly as it appeared. God loves me enough to give me that moment. A single flash in the pan moment of power strength and majesty. He and only He knew what I needed to break down my barriers and my walls.
Our sweet baby girl was in pain and handled it with determination and poise. She was cradled in the hands of God and today she can "soar on the wings of an eagle." She can "run and not grow weary" and "walk and not grow faint."
So while I feel down and out I need to remember that I worship a God who loves little old grumpy me enough to show me through an Eagle in flight. He is the one who laid himself down and was beaten and nailed. He was the one who suffered. He was the one who rose so that I can live. In my walk I will suffer and bad things will always happen. No matter what, God can and will provide you a way to limp along in your muck. You have to open your eyes and be ready to see it, I suppose.
So I will take my emotionally raw self and see if I can turn off the water works. Once they are opened it's hard to stop them. Then I will stand firm in knowing that God took some time and showed me that He loves me and I took some time and saw that.
.JPG)
Small dot taken with my iPhone.
I've been living here for a little while. It happens when life gets busy enough that you can't look ahead with so much in front of you. I find the negative emotions are so intertwined and can sneak up on me and cause catastrophic thinking if I am not too careful. It always starts with benign thoughts of "I can't", "I shouldn't" and the seed is planted. Mix that with extra shifts at work, tummy sick kids x2 weeks, a literal mountain of laundry, homeschooling, a load of non profit work, a budding jewelry business with Premier Designs, and feeling "off". It's no wonder I'm about to crash and burn.
I've been struggling with my fitness for over a year now. I am sad to say that the defeatist attitude is winning the battle. It began with a stress fracture and now I am battling plantar's facitis. This PT stint has been going on now for 2 months. I am progressing and trying to be patient with it. But today, I hit a breaking point. Who knew that the inability to do a proper squat would be the catalyst for the release of a bunch of pent up, unidentifiable emotions. Yup. Squats.
I got home and decided that maybe I want to quit all of everything. Yup. All of it. PT, pretending to be a runner, work, homeschooling, jewelry, laundry. Why bother?
So I decided to try to deal with my frustration on the pavement. I ran walked a 5K last weekend with my Sister in law, my race wife and my hubby. It didn't reinjure me so I decided that I need to get out there. Downloaded the couch to 5k app on my phone so that I wouldn't get over zealous and do too much and off I went.
The first mile was uneventful and no more encouraging than the tears shed over the inability to so a proper squat. I rounded the cul-de-sac and was looking at the sky. There was a bird. Soaring. I'm always watching birds. Then I noticed a white head and tail. I kept watching and it flew right over my head. A Bald Eagle soaring over the cul-de-sac. I snapped a quick picture with my iPhone and burst into tears. Oh how I miss my sweet baby girl!
In that moment my run/walk transcended. The Eagle was gone as quickly as it appeared. God loves me enough to give me that moment. A single flash in the pan moment of power strength and majesty. He and only He knew what I needed to break down my barriers and my walls.
Our sweet baby girl was in pain and handled it with determination and poise. She was cradled in the hands of God and today she can "soar on the wings of an eagle." She can "run and not grow weary" and "walk and not grow faint."
So while I feel down and out I need to remember that I worship a God who loves little old grumpy me enough to show me through an Eagle in flight. He is the one who laid himself down and was beaten and nailed. He was the one who suffered. He was the one who rose so that I can live. In my walk I will suffer and bad things will always happen. No matter what, God can and will provide you a way to limp along in your muck. You have to open your eyes and be ready to see it, I suppose.
So I will take my emotionally raw self and see if I can turn off the water works. Once they are opened it's hard to stop them. Then I will stand firm in knowing that God took some time and showed me that He loves me and I took some time and saw that.
.JPG)
Small dot taken with my iPhone.
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