#sunsetoclock

It is a little known fact that I love sunsets and sunrises... at least it's known if you follow me even remotely on social media or have ever paged through any of my scrapbooks.

The hashtag I have penned for this love of mine is #sunsetoclock and #sunriseoclock and #painthesky. I have been intentionally chasing sunsets for years. I have hundreds (probably thousands) of photos of that I have captured through the lens of various cameras. They fill me with joy. They fill me with peace. They fill me with hope. They simply just fill me.

They represent life and breath, new beginnings and great endings. They are a visible reminder to me of all that God has brought me to and through on the journey of my life. He has been faithfully showing up morning and night, every single day. They give me the promise of things bold, bright, and beautiful through the assurance of my yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows. They represent art, and nature, and purity, and individuality, and God’s abundant love and blessings. They are these quiet, peaceful, awe inspiring, Jesus kissed opportunities offered directly into my hands from Heaven every single day, if I want them.

They are the bookends to each and every day that I have been blessed to receive, that the earth has been blessed to receive. God woke me up, He gave me the day to live, to worship, to celebrate, to proclaim His name, and He brought me through the hours of life for that day and quietly whispered “Rest well my child, rest well…”

The strokes are sometimes bright and bold and vibrant, splashing across the sky in rich and bold streaks, sun rays dancing off clouds and landing with golden kisses on the objects all around and behind it. They change and transform in hue and color as the sun rises or slips behind the horizon, always a slow and silent progression, mix, layering, and fusion of vivid awakening or release. There is never the same sunset or sunrise twice, each it’s own unique painting, it’s own individual story, just like all of us. Some mornings or nights the shows are more stunning than others, some days the rain or clouds hide it entirely, but even though we may not be witnessing it here on this side of earth, I am sure the full Heavenly-sided presentation every morning and evening is beyond imagination every single time. I cannot wait until that day when I can be on that side, when I will get to watch not just the sky changing color, but I will get to watch the Man himself eloquently creating His majestic masterpieces. Oh dear me, the thought of this almost brings me to tears.

These moments of witnessing natures artwork are something I have come to value and intentionally make time for whenever possible. They initially used to just happen by chance, if I happened to look up at the right time, if I happened to be at the right place at the right time. But I came to realize they are going to happen every day regardless if I take the time to stop and watch them or not.  So quickly and easily the hours and moments of our days just slip by if we don’t consciously take the initiative to be aware of the time and location where we are in regards to the canvas God will be painting each days masterpieces on. It’s not always the most ideal time, and often I need to physically realign myself in a location for best viewing, but rarely, rarely am I disappointed in the show. I have never once regretted the time I gave up to slow, watch, reflect, praise, give thanks, and attempt to capture into the memory of my mind, and if possible onto the film of my camera. Although a camera can never fully capture all the magnitude of the moment, I do find a tremendous joy in the attempt.

For me, sunrises and sunsets really have become a time of worship, a time of coming in, coming together, centering and realigning myself, my thoughts, my attitudes, my view, my inner relationship with myself, others, and with God. It’s a time of quite, a time of stopping, a time of marked reflection of the simple and daily provision and gifts from our Creator. He created all of heaven, all of earth, all of creation ~ and He designed it all to dance beautifully together with incredible moments and potential each and every day.

It’s ours to miss, or it’s ours to intentionally seek and find - we are the only ones who make that choice.

It is my hope and prayer that everyone can find their #sunsetoclocks - those individual moments and places where you connect, where you find your passion, where you deliberately watch and carve out the time and space to be filled, to be centered, to be brought to and permeated with great joy and worship. May whatever it is that fills you not be missed and overlooked by the busy and the hustle and bustle of every day's lost living. May we all seek after the slow, the grand, the bold, the magnificent.

“Many times we have been guilty of viewing our future challenges as the sunset of life rather than the sunrise of a bright new opportunity.” -John Maxwell.

May we learn to stop viewing the things that are hard, the things that are challenging, the things that hurt as an ending point, as a hinderance or set back to things going forward… May we learn to view those hard things, those stumbling blocks, those difficulties, as moments and opportunities for change, embracing them as the gift of growth they are actually intended to really be. May we learn to see the full beauty and potential in every day and every situation.

May we remember to view the start and end of each day as the marked blessing that it is. May we be willing to consciously see every opportunity and challenge as part of our journey to greatness. May we all choose to live fully, to see clearly both the big picture, as well the tiniest of intricate details surrounding us.

May we try always align ourselves into the most opportune times and locations to witness and be fully present in all the details and moments of our life’s grand story. May we all fully celebrate and continually try capture the vibrance and beauty of all the hours of our days. May we take nothing for granted, may we leave nothing unseen or unfinished, as todays gift is not a promise we’re guaranteed to have again tomorrow.

We can choose to live a life where we possibly will catch a little glimpse of hope, of healing, of greatness every-now-and-again if we happen to be in the right place at the right time, or where we finally decide to slow down and try fill up only after we crash land and hit rock bottom.  Or... we can choose to intentionally seek it, find it, wait for it, and diligently watch daily for its evolving beauty, majesty, and potential, and do all we can to reach out, allow it, capture it, and hang on tight for the greatest most beautiful ride of our life.

May we live an ever evolving, always changing, brilliantly colorful, unbelievably magical, heavenly kissed, vibrant life from sun up to sun down (and every moment in-between) each and every day.  God is one mighty artist, and He has a great masterpiece planned for the canvas of each our lives.

If you aren’t already - follow me on social media where I share my #sunsetoclock and my #sunriseoclock and my #painthesky moments.  :-)

Facebook: Sara Crane Cakes    Instagram: saracrane13

{ Next Post "Hello Swimsuit Season" HERE }

{ Previous Post "A Grumpy Green Jello Monday" HERE }

A Grumpy Green Jello Monday

Today I had one of those off days. A grumpy Monday I guess you could say. I think if I’m honest, almost every day of mine has a small lacing of some kind of irritant, annoyance, grumbling… but today it all seemed a little more heavier than normal, or maybe a little bit more like what I used to feel like almost every day, and I didn't like it.

I've been working really hard on finding my happy, finding my sparkle, finding the good... and not being grumpy, not being crabby, not being irrational, moody, emotional and not being excessively expectant on both myself and those around me.  Today challenged all of that forward progress, and I am probably not going to go away with any great awards or metals.

It was a long, cold weekend. A weekend that was actually far to short. I blinked a few times and suddenly found the weekend already over and I was somehow stumbling out of bed bright and early this morning to feed the dog, attack the treadmill, laundry, spelling words, and a few more days of school before officially embarking on full time summer daycare bills.

I stood in the bathroom getting ready this morning (I was kind of hiding out if I’m being honest again) and could hear the "every morning grumbling" out in the kitchen break the silence. Parent child bantering over getting up (even if you don't want to), eating breakfast (even if you don't want to), and quit being so grumpy (even if you don't want to). There was a lot of whining, stomping, disrespect, angry eyes and “no’s” from the little child wrapped like a cocoon in the four full size blankets he grabbed on his way out of his room moments earlier. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and emerged to greet them and officially join the war zone (even though I didn't want to).

Why do the mornings have to start this way? Is ours the only house of grumpy out there? Surely we aren’t the only house that grumbles over eating, dressing, shoes, teeth brushing, and backpacks the first hour of nearly every.single.morning…? (...I know, I know, enjoy these moments, do not wish them away... I know, I know, they grow up fast and some day I will miss this...  but dear Heaven's would someone please just come and make him EAT something for breakfast, anything really is fine - cake, chocolate, hotdog, popcorn - you pick it, you battle it, I just can't today...)

I did survive the morning, I didn’t lose my cool (too much), I wasn’t (too) late to work… But the heaviness seemed to continue hanging low on my shoulders all day. The coffee didn't perk me up, and I ended up warming that first cup up over three times before finally just throwing the last bit down the drain. I ran the tap to rinse it away, silently wishing there was a way to consciously rinse all my own heaviness and grumpiness away right along with it.

I went home at lunch and decided to make some jello.  Except I couldn't find two boxes of flavors I could mix together. (You can get by mixing strawberry and raspberry together - but grape, or lime, or orange together, nope - sorry charlie)  So, I had this great idea to "surprise" my family with broken glass jello salad for supper! Two separate flavors, cut in cute squares, carefully tossed with some cool whip. Oh how fun!  

I boiled the water and got out two of our containers we typically store leftovers in.  (You know, out of that horrid drawer that contains all those miscellaneous and mismatch lids and storage containers that don't stack and don't match and you can never find the right lid for and swear every.single.time you are going to just throw them all away and go buy brand new, so that everything actually matches and stacks).  Yeah, out of that drawer I pulled two containers.

I poured in the orange jello powder and boiling water.  I poured in the lime jello powder and boiling water.  Stirred.  Added cold water.  Stirred.  Couldn't find lids that fit...  so I continued to dig, and as I dug... I started to feel a warm drip on my arm from above.  There was warm orange liquid jello dripping off the top of the counter down into that horrid drawer of mismatch "tupperware" (none of which is actually "true tupperware" brand).

Apparently there was a hole in the container I had grabbed... to which I also couldn't find a lid for.  So I grabbed another container and quickly poured it over, as I walked across the kitchen to the sink.  And you know what - THAT container also started dripping on the counter by the sink.  I quickly poured it into a third container (out of the horrid drawer that was now becoming heavily dotted with warm sticky liquid orange jello that was continuing to drip down from the countertop above it on the other side of the kitchen).  I finally opened the fridge and just set it on the shelf without a lid, the heck with it.

I turned to get the lime jello container, which I carefully tried to place in the fridge next to the liquid orange jello container (with no lid), except it slipped a little, jostling the liquid orange jello container, which then splashed over the sides and started seeping under everything on the shelf around it. By the time I had returned to the fridge with a wash rag (after stick stick sticking to the floor with each step I took from all the back-and-forth dripping jello droplets), I opened the fridge door and was met with a slow stream of liquid lime jello now mixing in, because of course that container had a hole in it too.  I now had dripped and running warm liquid jello on the counter, in my horrid "tupperware" drawer, on the floor, and all over an entire shelf of my fridge.

Seriously.  Was this honestly seriously happening?!?  Oh you bet your bottom it was.  I hauled them both back out and finally put them in large crack-free ceramic bowls, stacked them on top of each other with a dinner plate in between. Forty minutes later I finished washing off the counters, the floor, the horrid drawer and all its mismatch contents, and the fridge shelf and all its whatever fridge contents.  All that for some stupid broken glass jello in two flavors I don't even like, which my family probably won't even eat.

I returned from lunch fully aware I was in an even grumpier mood than I had been when I had left.  I was honestly wishing I could steer clear of myself, but every time I turned around, there I was.  I just continued to do regulation deep breathing with my eyes closed, willing the minutes and hours to pass so I could reach the end of this miserable day and go to bed.  I told myself over and over again to stay calm, stay cool, come to grips with the fact that I'm tired, I'm irritable, others around me are maybe also a little tired and irritable, and I need to grant myself and all those around me a huge heap of grace today.

Ok, so I guess I'm grateful that I've been becoming more aware of my own idiosyncrasies… time and again this year I have repeated to myself, and anyone else listening "I sure wouldn't want to live with myself, that's for sure!  I know I have to be a hard person to live with!"  Steer clear of mama, sometimes mama needs a time out too. 

I have been working really hard at becoming more conscious of my downfalls, my failings, my trigger points, my weaknesses, my days and moments... attempting to hold myself more accountable to my actions and reactions, my words and my body language, my thoughts and my feelings.

I have found it really hard to look inward and see some of the hard things I don't want to see or acknowledge about myself.  I have found it also really hard to take that next step beyond the acknowledgement and attempt to actually change.  Change is hard.  Especially when you finally realize it isn't everyone else who needs to change - but it's in fact you who needs to change.

So, where am I going with all of this you ask?!?  You know, I honestly don't even really know.  I guess I just am wanting to admit I had a bad day, a heavy grumpy day, full of feelings of overwhelm, irritation, and warm drippy liquid green jello.  I'm not perfect, so very very far from... but I am fervently trying to be more aware, more conscious of, more in tune with the baggage and junk I'm slinging around.  I'm trying to be more sensitive of where the shrapnel of my bad days is going to land and who is going to get hurt in my line of fire.

My day left the insides of me not wanting to make the best choices in my thoughts and reactions... yet I found my mind did want to consciously at least try to make better choices with my words and actions in spite of it.  I still fell so short today, and I still have so far to go when it comes to handling my grumpy days well.  I still totally crash and burn over and over again with every passing day, every passing hour, and unfortunately that is not going to change until the day I reach the pearly gates.

But I'm starting to realize I cannot continue to let one bad day define all of who I am.  I can't continue to allow one bad day turn into another bad day, another bad week, another bad month, another bad year.  I have come too far to only come this far, and there is this word I have recently come across called grace.

I am finding that grace is something we need to learn how to both grant to others in abundance, and grant to ourselves in even greater abundance.  Grace says - you are human, but you are still so loved by God and by so many around you.  Grace says you are imperfect, but you are still so worthy of greatness and great things.  Grace says you are limited and lacking, but you are still fully enough.  Grace says you cannot do this alone, but you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you.  Grace says always give others the benefit of the doubt, and always give yourself the love and leniency to overcome the beast of unattainable perfection within you.

Grace says - you are forgiven, you are loved, and you are worth it.

Grace says live and love fully. Grace says tomorrow is a new day.  Grace says rest well tonight and embrace the morning dawn with all the promise and grandeur and potential only you are capable of unleashing.  Grace says turn and walk away from yesterday, learn from today.

Grace says the future is still yours for the taking, yours for the making, you just need to take the next best step... you just need to take the next best step... stop stumbling over today, stop hanging on to yesterday, and just step into your tomorrow boldly and bravely with hands, hearts, and minds open and accepting of the journey still before you.

Go be that awesome grace-filled big hot mess God has created you to be (and for gracious sake - just skip the jello for supper, it's totally not worth it! [wink])!

{ Previous blog post "Adulting Is Hard" HERE }

{ Next blog post "#sunsetoclock" HERE }

Adulting is Hard

The van has rust.

The dog is aging and has arthritis. 

The water softener is out of salt. 

The credit card and hospital bills lay on the counter needing to be paid.

There's hair in the shower drain, beard trimmings behind the sink, there's a green film in the fish tank.

The stack of dirty dishes pile high on the counter, the green light indicating "Clean" clearly visible on the dishwasher below, silently waiting to be emptied.

There are dirty band-aids, wads of tin foil, bits of candy wrappers, and various stacks of rocks on every flat surface throughout the entire house.

Summer daycare is looming just around the corner with it's hefty price tag whispering in my ear, and a nine-year-old with internal processing issues who is taking his unknown aversion to the impending change out on everyone in the form of anger and grumpiness.

Supper isn't going to make itself.  The house cleaning fairy isn't going to magically show up and clean the house.  The groceries aren't going to find their into my fridge and cupboards all on their own.  The fact the keurig needs water before I can brew another cup of coffee even makes me irritable.

There are loads of laundry no one else seems to see.  The pile of mismatch socks growing on top of the dryer is just about ready to make me absolutely explode. Like seriously, absolutely explode. I hold that lone, lost, dingy white single sock, no partner in sight amid the stack of other lost sock souls, and I almost start shaking with how much this upsets me right now.

I am the mom here gosh darnit!!  Dear God would someone... anyone... please just see me?!?  Help me?!?  Thank me?!? It was Mother's Day just yesterday for heaven's sake, I am sure not feeling very celebrated today, thank you very much!! And why is it so incredibly hard to get all of your socks in the laundry together?!?

It all leaves me standing here feeling so incredibly selfish, and so incredibly self justified all at the same time.  It never ceases to amaze me how quickly those life moments of magic can turn into moments of sheer manic in less than two seconds flat.

How do you go from a weekend of sun, fun, friends, and relaxation... to meltdown, sunburn, laundry overload, and thunderstorms in a matter of what... minutes?!? How do you go from the "Thanks for the great weekend Babe" lighthearted sigh to the thoughts "Dear Lord in Heaven, so help me if he doesn't get off that couch and off his damn phone... I'm going to... I'm going to... leave!" screaming through my mind, as my eyes shoot daggers across the piled high kitchen counter.

Seriously, what in the world is wrong with my ever lovin' mind some days?!!?!

My life always seems to be at the extremes of both/and and either/or.  There never seems to be a happy medium.  All or nothing.  Go big of go home.  Love ya yesterday, hate ya today.  Best mom ever, worst mom ever.  Just another day in paradise.

And yet, it really is another day in paradise, seriously, it is... without all the dripping sarcasm and eye daggers.  Why is that so hard to grasp some days?  Why is finding the sunshine such a hard task on even the brightest of days?

Why do I get so grumpy and bitter at the very thing I know so many others are longing for?  Why do I take for granted the very people who honestly mean the most to me?  Why do I treat those closest to me worse than everyone else outside the width and breadth of my short arms?

Some days adulting is just hard.  Plain and simple ~ some days adulting just stinks.  It can leave you raw, edgy, and broken.  Confused and shattered. Helpless and just rather... lost.

I long for those lazy days of summer with swingsets and swimming pools, when I was still ignorant and blind to the world's big, bold realities around me.  Clueless to the real responsibilities awaiting me, naive to bills, deadlines, time management, and how to properly navigate relational dynamics.

Now I long for my kiddos to have those same lazy days of summer without all the stress of my todays adulting reality... but it's in that valley between truth vs myth... reality vs imagination... childhood vs adulthood where everything tends to fall apart a little bit for me, where the magic and the manic collide and create a vortex of selfishness and self justification.  It's where I lose it a little, and in the process lose myself a little.

And then I'm quietly reminded of a quote I saw recently on social media.  "If you can change your mind, you can change your life" ~ William James.   I need to intentionally change my mind, my heart, my attitude so it doesn't continue to sour and scar me, my family, my friends.

Find the sunshine.  Leave behind the bitter.  All easier said than done, I completely realize.  I will try to adult well today.  I will try to adult better today than I did yesterday.  I shall try just embrace the day, embrace the moments.  Just do what needs to be done, try find the joy and appreciation in abundance in this one life I have been given.

Stop. Breathe.  Step back.  Step away.

Stop. Breathe.  Look away.  Look up.

Stop. Breathe.  Target the why.  Turn it around.

Stop. Breathe.  Move forward.  Move in.

Stop. Breathe.  Forgive them.  Forgive yourself.

Stop. Breathe.  Open your hands.  Let it go.

Stop. Breathe.  Open your heart.  Let them in.

Stop. Breathe.  Love them.  Love yourself.
Stop. Breathe.  Embrace today.  Embrace the hard.

{ Previous Post "Happy Mother's Day Mom" HERE }

Happy Mother's Day Mom

Today is Mother’s Day - and today I want to celebrate my mother.

I admit, I have been fairly open about my own struggle on this tricky day… but one thing I’m not uncertain about, is how much I love my mom.

Forty-two years ago my parents chose life and brought me into this world. I was prayed for, and I was prayed over. I was surrounded and supported from my very first breath. I was doted on, I was spoiled, I was loved, and I’m sure I was a hand full. I’m fairly certain I am still a hand full. [wink]. Through thick and thin my mom and dad have been there for me.

The older I get, and the more people I meet, interact with, and hear life stories from, I am more and more grateful for the abundant gift of life that I have been given. How I grew up, what I have totally taken for granted, is something a lot of people could only have hoped for.

I grew up on a small farm with two parents who worked hard and loved each other well. I had grandparents in the same town that I lived, and they only lived one block apart from each other. I grew up with large family dinners every Sunday after church. I grew up with a pet or two always in the house, and many more just steps away outside. There always seemed to be an extra vehicle or two available whenever someone needed one, there was always a big vacation planned every summer, and an extra minute or two or ten was always granted whenever asked for.

While I didn’t grow up feeling super “rich,” I was never without. It was modeled and taught from very early on the importance of hard work, of saving strategically, of giving generously - both of my time and my money. I was born and raised in the church, there was always an abundance of gifts for us on birthdays and Christmas. My mom and dad gave me this great gift of a firm, solid, Christ centered foundation of life. I was taught respect, I was taught grace, I was taught forgiveness, I was taught strength, I was taught the importance of heritage and tradition.

The older I get, the messier my life and the revolving world around me gets, the more I realize the full extent of the grand caliber of childhood that I actually had. It’s awe inspiring and humbling. I am grateful, filled with pride and determination to continue their legacy.

My mom was always busy in the kitchen - baking and cooking. Bringing a meal to this family or that, bringing goodies to this event or that. My mom was always busy around the farm doing chores and mowing, taking care of the horses and dogs. My mom was always busy enjoying time with friends and family. My mom read a lot, took care of all the family finances, organized us, and successfully got us from here to there. She had patience, she had expectations, she had time to show, model, example, and teach. She handed me my loved for baking, for photography, for organized list making, for recipe books, and that it’s ok to embrace and celebrate small moments of time at home alone.

After I moved out, she’s continued to love and support from afar, she gracefully opened her hands and let me go. She also soon transitioned into a grandma in grand style. I love watching her with my kiddos. She loves and spoils them so well! She gives us all the grace and truth and support and love we all need in this circle of parent / child / grandchild / grandparent relationship.

She continues to give, and share life and laugh with friends and family, she continues to make and bring goodies and meals here, there, and everywhere. She continues to give and care and share selflessly day in and day out.

I’m beyond grateful for my gift of life and the grand gift given me through her example, her flexibility, her love, her hard work. I’m beyond grateful how much of her courses through the veins of myself now as an adult.

Thank you Mom!! Today I celebrate you!!

I celebrate all you have been throughout all the years of my life. I celebrate all that you have been throughout the years of my kiddos lives, as you have also poured into them with your grand-parenting heart and eyes. I celebrate the blessing in abundance you have always showered upon me through your gifts of time, travel, memories, behavior modeling. Words really will never to able to fully express the gratitude and returned love I feel from within me. Thank you for your continued understanding on the limited time we have to share with you during this current season of life as you are slowly entering retirement, while we are still being swallowed by the busy of full time jobs and full time parenting. Thank you for your patience and grace as you encourage and wait for us to simply stop over and be, simply share life together with you for whatever minutes and moments we can offer amid the busy stage of life we currently navigate.

May you know the depth of my love and gratitude for my life and my life’s foundation and trajectory. May you know the humble abundance I feel surrounded in every day knowing all that I have, all I have been given, all that I am becoming, and all that is unknown and yet to come.

You have given me more than I can ever express, imagine, or give back in return.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Such simple, basic words I realize, but may you also know they reach deep within and far beyond the stark basic black and whiteness of them on a simple sheet of paper or fancy hallmark greeting card. Truly from the depths within me - thank you for everything. For the little things, for the big things, and for all the crazy things in between. I couldn’t imagining having to navigate life without you, and am grateful every single day that God has granted us another day so we don’t have to.

Know you are loved deeply my dear dear mama. Know you are appreciated beyond imagination my dear dear mama. Know that my life, and all that I am, and all I have become and accomplished are directly a result from your goodness and grace, encouraging and loving me well my dear dear mama.

I love you and Happiest of Mother’s Day to you today! May you know the depth of my love and gratefulness for all that you are and all that you do! And like we did when I was a little girl - I’m leaning in to your ear and whispering “I have a secret - I love and like you!”

{ Next Blog post "Adulting Is Hard" HERE }
{ Previous Blog post "Magical Moments of Dawn" HERE }

Magical Moments of Dawn

I’m sitting surrounded by that magical time at the camper. 5:00 a.m. on Saturday mornings.

The campground is dark and sleeping, the birds are chirping, there’s a glorious smell of fresh brewed coffee, and I get to sit in the silence with my puppy curled up and snoring quietly beside me. On occasion I stay up too late the night before and oversleep, but if you ask anyone around here, you’ll know I’m one of the first ones to head in for the night. I love to quietly patter through the camper picking up, putting away, settling in after a day of fresh air, friends and sunshine.

And yes, I set my alarm for 4:20 a.m. every morning on the weekend. Shhhhhh - that is one of my little lake secrets though, so don’t tell anyone… They say nothing good happens after midnight… but I’ll tell you that amazing, magical things can happen at 5:00 a.m. if you let it.

Shall I read, shall I do my devotions, shall I write, shall I look at all the photos I took yesterday, shall I go back to bed and sleep a while? Hmmmmm… the entire day is at hand, mine for the taking, mine for the making. Most mornings I do a little of everything, but no matter what - I try to make sure I’m intentionally finding space to create this magical me time every weekend. It’s one that can easily slip by in a quick blink if I don’t purposely find it, take it, hold on to it.

Much of my life I have intentionally gotten up early. When I was nineteen years old, I was freshly graduated and married, just starting my first real full time employment in corporate america as a graphic artist. I distinctly remember reading through one of the companies monthly newsletters and there was a small little quote down in one of the corners something along the lines of “Did you know if you get up one hour earlier every day, you will be giving yourself an extra two weeks of life a year…” I’m fairly certain I was already predestined to be a morning person long before then, but I do find it interesting how impactful that little statement was in setting the initial intentionality of my young adult mindset.

In my twenties I was almost always out in the early morning exercising, mostly walking, maybe a little running, but always outside in the dark. I didn’t own any exercise equipment back then. In my thirties, there were many nights we were up for hours with a distraught little one, and in my thirties I was also back up and working every single morning 24/7 by 3:00 a.m. I was a full time stay at home - work from home custom cake decorator, and while I worked around the clock, I did find I was able to get more done between 3am - 6am than I was the entire rest of the day put together.

And then I entered my forties… I was technically still a custom cake decorator, I was also transitioning back into working full time out of the house, so my early morning cake hours were crucial, and then I found myself sick as a dog and entirely unable to get out of bed and do anything productive for months.  Like, I was in bed all day. I would find out I was pregnant with a child filled with sickness, which in turn filled me with sickness. It took me a year and a half to finally recover physically from that illness. It will take me a lifetime to continue to recover from it mentally and spiritually. But that moment in my life was utterly life altering in so many ways. That was the only season in my adult life that I was not able to get up early. I was basically not able to function the entire day, and truth be told, I really had no desire to even live. It was hard, it was devastating. I not only lost a child during that season, I lost a lot of myself, my identity, my rootedness, my passion, my drive, my focus, and my desire during that time.

I’m currently about nine months back into my intentionally getting up and at it early morning at home again as well. I found it surprisingly difficult to transition back into getting up and embracing that early morning alarm again. It took months before I was finally fully back into the habit and mindset.

In different seasons I have used my early morning to accomplish different things. This current season has been my time to start my day with loving my body.  In the silence while my family sleeps I exercise. I treadmill or I elliptical, I am busy training both my mind and my body for a another half marathon in October. I try eat my breakfast, drink my coffee, take the time to shower and put myself all together before I face the world. I’m spending a little more time choosing what I’m going to wear, a little more time on makeup and accessories. Not a lot… I’m not obsessive by any means, but enough time to say - hey, I’m worth it. I’m worth the extra ten minutes a day to look great on the inside and try match the feeling of great on the inside I’m also diligently working on.

I think for me, the greatest draw to early morning is the silence. The tv isn’t on. The radio isn’t on. There’s (usually) no one else up. There’s no talking, no other interaction except between me and myself and me and God. It’s my me time, my soul care time, my time to set the foundation for the rest of the day. The dawn wakes, the sky is often painted a vibrant hue of pinks and purples, and the world yawns and slowly brightens.

In the blink of an eye that moment, that slowness and that magic often just vanishes. The kids and hubs are up and often grumpy, the lights are all turned on, the dog is barking to go out, the tv gets turned on, the spelling words come out, and the chaos of the day enters with its loud booming hello.

I take a deep breath and just step into it, I have no choice but to tiptoe into the mess and the chaos and smile.

I try hang on the thoughts of those purples of the sunrise I watched in the east, I think of the miles logged on my machines in the basement, I think of the words I wrote or read, I think of the water that cleansed the sweat from my pores, I think of the coffee and fruit and granola that filled me with energy and nutrients for the day.

That’s in essence what silence is for me, those magic moments of dawn… It is the simple thing that fills me with the energy, nutrients, and memories needed to try set me up to successfully get me through the chaos of the day ahead.

Granted, some days are much more successful than others. But after twenty five years of navigating adulthood, I simply find it a personal basic life principal. I have come to recognize I both need and long for that pre-dawn foundation, so it is something I intentionally try carve out and give myself.

So, if I do the math… in essence I am giving myself an extra TWO hours of life a day, which comes out to an extra FOUR weeks of life I get to live, which technically gives me a THIRTEEN month year to live in… And we all know how I honestly LOVE the number 13… I always have, I always will. A whole month of magical moments at dawn. That just has a great little ring to it doesn’t it?!?

When is your magical moments each day? I realize not everyone is a morning person, or everyone has the luxury to get up early or stay up late… but if you aren’t already carving at least a few minutes of “me time” for yourself each day… may I just encourage you to stop, to slow, to evaluate and to find those moments.

Intentionally find and carve out those necessary minutes each day to help root yourself within yourself. You are worth it and worthy of the immeasurable greatness you're guaranteed to find during the gift of giving yourself those magical moments.

{ Next blog post "Happy Mother's Day Mom" HERE }
( Previous blog post "Half Marathon Runner" HERE }

Half Marathon Runner

So I did something crazy today. It’s maybe not crazy, but it was something big. Well, at least for me it was big. I got to cross something off my bucket list today.

After years of wanting to do it, years of trying and failing previously, and months and months of current hard work and training, I ran a half marathon. I logged that glorious 13.1 in my personal databank of accomplishments today.

Granted, it was just me - I was the sole organizer and only registrant of this particular “Dash Through Dawn” Half Marathon at Round Lake, MN.  There was no strategic water stations, there was no sponsored shirts with logos, no fancy start / finish line, no crack of the gun followed by slight pandemonium. There was no cheering fans along the sidelines, there was no friends and family there to watch, cheer, witness, high five and hug me at the finish. There was no 13.1 sticker handed to me to proudly display on the back of my minivan.  But… in my mind, this was no different than if I had waited one more day, gotten in my car at 3am tomorrow morning, attempted to find my way to South Dakota by myself (let’s just say I am not a good driver), to run in the “official” Brooking’s Half Marathon with my friend whom I’ve been training with. But, my husband gave me the gift of today by myself at the lake, my most favorite place, and this was actually the day I had decided long ago would be the day. I wrested in my mind if this would really count as an “official” half marathon or not… but I finally came to the mindset that it is… for me - it is. And that’s who I did it for, me. So please, don’t anyone try discredit this actual accomplishment of mine - because I’ll be honest, I’m going to simply turn around and ask you what you chose to do today at 5am. I’m fairly certain it did not contain the completion of 13.1 miles. Just let me have my moment and “run with it” (pun entirely intended). ;-)

Granted, I’m only about two hours post accomplishment, so I shouldn’t even be allowed on my laptop yet… it’s kind of like being drunk in public - it’s probably a little dangerous for me to attempt to blog about this experience while still lost somewhere in the aftermath of excitement and exhaustion, still dangling on a few of the tingly post high brain endorphins.

But I did it. I DID IT. No one else could accomplish this single accomplishment for me other than myself. Sure, I needed lots of prayers, support and encouragement along the way, and I’m so grateful for all those in my life who are celebrating with me right now from afar… but ultimately it came down to my brain, my desire, my body, my training, my endurance. My mind over my matter.

For me this journey has been entirely personal, entirely between me and God. It’s been a personal fight through my pain and bitterness, me embracing my hard, a celebration of all that I have made it through, a marking of the health I have been restored and granted after losing Faith two years ago, and a grand “HA HA!” in the face of satan who gave a valiant attempt to smother me with all his lies and insecurities.

Well, today - today was the day months and months ago I penciled on my calendar with the number 13.1. Today was the day I showed up. I ran. I conquered. I even beat the time I had hoped to finish in by almost a minute a mile less. It was just me and God out there mile after mile after mile. I fought each and every step, each and every mile from start to finish. I talked to myself, I talked to God, I refused to acknowledge satan, and I refused to stop until I reached the end.

I watched the dawn awake, I watched the sky turn from black to pink, to orange, to purple as the sun rose over the small, shallow Illinois Lake. I watched deer lapping at waters edge, bounding through the field in front of me. I watched the first rays of sunlight stretch and illuminate miles of black earth, tinged gold and freshly turned, tilled, planted with infant rootless seeds deep within the rows. I watched the grey pavement stretch for miles and miles in front, behind, and next to me. I dashed through dawn at one of my most favorite places in life, at one of my favorite times of day, and I intentionally experienced all of God’s goodnesses around me and within me as my heart beat, my lungs pulled in the cool air over and over, my muscles all moved together in a sacred harmony, my will warred against my mind to continue forward. I pushed myself. I pushed hard. It was just as mentally demanding as it was physically demanding, perhaps even more so.

When I finally reached the end… I smiled, I almost cried… and I said “Well, I guess I no longer have a reason to say I’m NOT a “real” runner anymore.” I have no more excuses, no more internal lies to listen to. I am officially a "real" runner. And you know what, I have officially been a "real" runner for years now… I just never wanted to allow myself to own that prestigious title. Other people are better athletes, faster runners, more graceful, more accomplished. Other people grew up recognized athletes on school sports teams, I did not. I was an unpopular, borderline chubby, artsy-fartsy one that always erred on the side of slightly rebellious. I was never one that actually got in a lot of trouble growing up, but I was around it, I was drawn to it, I was often associated with it. Athleticism does not course through my blood.

But here’s the thing I’ve discovered about running - it’s all personal. It’s all yourself against your demons. It’s you finding Jesus and it’s you fighting your satan’s. At least that’s what it is for me. It may have initially started out a way to merely burn as many calories as possible in the shortest amount of time possible as I struggled through obsessive weight and eating disorder issues earlier on in my life. But somewhere recently, it moved beyond that. It moved beyond the number of calories burned, and it moved into something healing, something spiritual, something personal, something celebratory. After going through a great season of sickness and loss, it is amazing how life’s perspective can change, if you allow it.

You can wallow in bitterness… Lord knows I sure did for while… but it can also be a turning point for great change and gratitude. And that is where I am at today. God allow my body to be my worst enemy for much of my life, or that is how I chose to view it, as I trudged through year after year of infertility. I was at war with my body because it didn’t look and perform exactly like I thought it should, and it wouldn’t grant me my greatest desires of more children. And then, when that single desire was finally granted, my body allowed the creation of that little miracle to be filled with sickness, a disease that would leave her in Jesus’s arms before her mamas arms.

I walked around angry and bitter at my body for years. I lay in bed with a sick body for months and months while I was pregnant with a dying baby at age forty. My body would have to give birth to a stillborn child. My body failed me over and over again, and I blamed it and I hated it, and ultimately, I did not take very good care of it, because I didn’t really care for it.

I completely missed the fact that my body was still allowing me life, and breath, and joy in abundance. I’ve spent most of my life allowing myself to focus solely on all I wasn’t, instead of all that I was, all that I could still be.

It would take over a year and a half before my body would finally be physically healed enough after that devastating sickness and loss before I could actually consider starting to move forward to try heal my head, my heart, my very soul. Last October as I drove away from the lake that last weekend of the season, I finally realized I needed to embrace my health and start treating my body with the respect and love that it needed, so in turn, I could start to view myself with the respect and love I needed to, to start moving forward beyond my loss, beyond my pain, beyond my personal vendetta against life in general.

It has been a crazy journey that I have been on. Am still on. Will continue to be on until the day I wake up in Heaven. But today God has granted me life, and it’s a good life, a really good life. A life far better than I deserve. God has restored my health, at least for the current moment. I am grateful, I am humble, and I have decided to finally work on loving myself, without guilt, and celebrating all that is currently good in my life and just run with it.

It’s time to embrace it and live life to the fullest in the here and now, while I am healthy and strong. This time and season may (and will) pass, my journey may (and will) take more twists and turns, I have no idea what lies ahead on my currently still invisible future timeline of life. I hopefully have many more tomorrows left to go, many more moments and memories yet to create share.

“Oh may I throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles me. May I run with perseverance the race marked out for me, fixing my eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and and perfecter of faith.” ~Hebrews 12:1-2

Yes Lord, thank you - and may it be your will that I may have many more miles left to run in my race of life!   #runlikethewindbulleye

Also check out my post "26.2 ... Who Knew" HERE (yes that's 26.2 miles ~LOL) 

{ Previous blog post "Mother's Day The Tricky Icky Holiday HERE }

Mother's Day - The Tricky Icky Holiday

I know Mother’s Day is coming… I keep trying to ignore it… but every day that passes it’s one day closer.

I swore, yet again, I was NOT going to write anything on this topic.  I was going to try figure out a great way to WHOO HOOO on my mom and then lay low and try sneak through the weekend unnoticed. And yet, here I sit… mid week, with still no idea how to celebrate and show how ROCKSTAR my husband and my moms are, still no idea how to celebrate and honor our birth mom, and still trying to figure out a way to completely and quietly bypass the weekend all together without feeling any guilt.

Mother’s Day is tricky for me. I call Mother’s Day the Tricky Icky Holiday, I always have. It’s something I desperately want to embrace and celebrate, and it’s also something I want to completely forget and overlook.

So many things to celebrate and so many things to mourn on this socially over-hyped day of all things consumerism. Buy the flowers, buy the perfume, by the gifts, go out to eat, plaster it all over social media, shout it for all the world to hear how great moms are…

And moms ARE great, do NOT get me wrong!!! But, I happen to also know the word “mom” carries a whole lot of intricate baggage for each and every one of us, across a vast scope of realities.

I want to joyfully celebrate my husband and I’s awesome moms. I want to model to my kiddos how to fully celebrate their awesome grandmas. I want to honor and remember the moms and grandmas of my past, the ones that left a rich family legacy I get to continue to walk in. I want to celebrate our birth mom and the gift of life she gave us. I want to celebrate the two boys that call me mom. I also want to tearfully mourn the hole in my heart and at my kitchen table every day, for the mom I didn’t get to be to my little angel-babies. I want to be respectful of my single friends who are also caught in middle of wanting to celebrating their moms and grandmas while mourning their single-mom or not-yet mom status’s.

I honestly want to celebrate with all those celebrating, and I want to hug and mourn with all of the those dealing with the various scales and levels of deep aching.

Moms, grandmas, step-moms, single moms, birth moms, adoptive moms, angel baby moms, infertile moms, moms already gone, fur-baby moms, women who desperately want to be moms and aren’t. Phew

The million dollar question I seem to wrestle with every single year - how in Heaven’s name do you “celebrate” all of that well?!?

Honestly, I don’t think you do. I don’t think you can, it’s virtually impossible. I think you have to just pick and choose what you are going to fully allow yourself to feel and embrace on that day, and just go with it. Laugh. Cry. Live. Love. Mourn and be sad if you want to. Celebrate and go all out if you want to.

But whatever we do, I feel I just have to use my voice to try emphasize how important is that we just all be aware and mindful of others around us. Mindful of their reasons TO celebrate and be celebrated, and of their reasons to NOT celebrate or NOT get to be celebrated. I know that leaves a whole lot of tip-toeing around, but that’s ok.  I think it's ok we are all called to a small level of discomfort now-and-again.

Awareness and respect for one and all, is honestly one of the greatest gifts of celebration I can honestly think of. And this needs to be true for every day… every holiday… not just Mother’s Day… But especially on Mother’s Day… because it’s… well… just a tricky icky holiday…
{ Next blog post "Half Marathon Runner" HERE }
{ Previous blog post "Use Your Words" HERE }

Use Your Words

I love words.  I love to read them.  I love to write them.  I love to weave them into and out of each other to create something magical, something profound, something that creates a feeling, causes a stir within, causes a moment of pause...

I have a "word of the day" notebook.  Every day I try grab a word that grabs me.  I write it down, the date, who said it, and general definition.  It's a great little thing to flip through and add on to.

Reading and writing is one of my healing and filling soul care salves.  I love book recommendations.  I love UPS amazon packages that arrive containing books... books that are still pure and virginal.  They are mine to underline in, write in the margins in, read and re-read, cross reference, book study in, discuss over coffee.  There are lots of digital reading options these days, but I still love the good old fashion joy of owning and reading an actual book, turning each physical page, underlining with the lead of an actual pencil.

At this current moment I only read and write non-fiction.  I fill up and pour into religious based self-help books.  Shauna Niequest.  Ann Voskamp. Brene Brown.  Jen Hatmaker.  Lysa Terkerst,  John Maxwell.  Rebeckah Lyons.  Bob Goff.  Sheila Walsh.  Judah Smith...

My current personal writing right now, well it's just this tiny little blog with some fairly big feelings and even bigger vulnerabilities.  I write what I feel, I write what I see from the inside looking out.  I listen, I love, I hurt, I question.  And to be honest, I don't even know if there's anyone even reading it, and most days I'm not quite sure why I'm even writing and publishing on it.  But even if there is only an audience of one, and that one is little ol' me, I'm fairly certain I would still continue on...  it's one of those things that just... well... make me happy.

I do dream of someday getting the luxury of actually being a "real writer"...  you know someone who gets to just write for a living, and not worry if what they are writing is even what anyone wants to read.  I just honestly just want to sit with my coffee and my laptop on a deck, over a body of water during sunrise and sunset every day, filling the hours in between just typing my little heart out.  I have an idea for a book... but that is something right now I cannot even remotely let myself consider entertaining the thought to start.

Working full time and family full time, for me anyway, I know wouldn't mix well with being a "real writer"...  Funny ~ I write almost daily, but I don't consider myself a "real writer" and I run almost every day, but I also don't consider myself a "real runner."  What an odd reality issue I seem to have.  I can't help but wonder why exactly that is.

I've touched on this earlier in some of my writing, but why is it we seem to often let society at large be the ones to define who we "really" are, what our "actual" successes, accomplishments, and worth are actually measured up to?  Even though the factual reality is that society at large, isn't actually doing any of that - society at large is merely a bold, blurry, mistruth that we make up inside ourselves as we look from inside out... out into the big scary world of messy and mediocrity and false facades.

How much of what we splash out there on social media about ourselves is actually a true representation of who we really, really are?  Who our family's really, really are?  If we're not being completely honest in what we're sharing, I'm fairly certain everyone else is probably doing the exact same thing as well.

So why?!? Why the games, why the comparisons, why the half lies and justifications?

Why is it in one hand we don't dare share the full truth about ourselves because of what others might think - needing to twist it, tweak it, color correct it to be as perfect in appearance as possible - and yet on the other hand, we also tell ourselves we aren't actually supposed to publicly admit when we're healthy... when we're happy... when we're gloriously messy because we also don't want others to actually think we might in-fact have it all together. We lie and cover up areas that we feel are "less than"... and we hide or don't share at all about areas we feel we are "more than".

Is this an everyone thing - or is this just a me thing?

Am I the only one desperately longing for absolute authenticity and life hospitality?  Am I the only one drowning in a now identified sea of self inflicted lies, selfishness, and self help failures and successes?  Someone else, please take a stand with me... let's just all take a stand to be real, just be honest, to just be seen and heard in a filter free life.

Dare to be.  Dare to share.  Dare to live.  Dare to love.  Dare to fail. Dare to hurt.  Dare to answer the whisper within.  Dare to believe in yourself, that you can move mountains and you are worth whatever it takes to be real, to be brave, to be daring, to be successful in your own eyes.

Dare to embrace your mess and find voice for your words.

Use your words to be the ray of light to the world.  Use your words to share your story, use your words to fill the empty pages of your life.  Whether you read them, write them, say them, ink them, think them... just use your words to make a positive difference in this far too negative day and age..."

{ Next Blog Post "Mother's Day The Tricky Icky Holiday HERE }

{ Previous Blog "Leaving and Returning" HERE }

Leaving And Returning

This past weekend was our first weekend back at the camper for the season.  It was one of those odd midwest spring weekends with warm sun and gentle breezes.  Quite honestly a perfect weekend.

I found myself rushing around beforehand, trying to get everything ready and everyone packed, and everything done at home, so I could hopefully enjoy my time away.  It had been seven months since the last time we had spent a weekend at the lake, finishing up last season.

When I had driven away that last weekend, I was over thirty pounds heavier and carried a heart filled with burdens even heavier than that.  That summer I had worked so hard, and had already come so far as I processed and inched forward in my healing and Journey To Faith... but I honestly had no idea how far I still was needing to go.

I had spent nearly all of last summer resting, relaxing, reading, finding peace, and starting to feel that initial small twinge of extravagant blessing warm me deep within.  I also spent nearly all of last summer not exercising and not caring about my overall health or diet.  I was happy, I was humbled, I was healing, but I was not physically overly healthy.  I knew it, I denied it, I hid from it, I complained about it, I tried ignoring God's whisper to be brave and face it.

But by the last weekend there, the weather was getting cool and the reality that I honestly had no fall and winter clothes that fit anymore left me a little anxious and disappointed in myself.  It was to the black and white reality that my jeans weren't just "tight" after a long summer of self neglect, I could honestly not even begin to pull them up, let alone squeeze into them.  My summer wardrobe of a few ratty athletic shorts and old t-shirts was not going to cut it through the approaching Iowa winter.  My feet were also at war with me and I hadn't been able to put on a pair of shoes besides flip flops the entire summer due to a flare up of my old lady bunions.

I was heavy, I was out of shape, I was dreading having to say farewell to camping season and face winter... and I knew it was honestly time to face one of the things I hate doing.  It was time to get back on that roller coaster weight loss ride again.  I've gotten on and gotten back off more times than I can count in my life, and I did not want to do it.  But I also did not want to stay where I was at, physically or mentally.

So... I embarked on my current Journey of Weight Loss.  And it's been hard, really hard.  I decided to embrace the hard, to try actually lose the weight correctly and not fall victim of my past eating disorder.  No fad diets, no expensive magic pink products or powders, no starvation, no cheating.  It was slow going... but I kept going.

I have been amazed to find that the longer it took, the harder it was... the harder I started working on it and the more I became engaged in the entire process, inside and out.  As I slowly began transforming my health and my outer physical body, I was also slowly transforming my mind and my inner spiritual body.

I continued doctoring for my feet issues and as they began to improve, I began to start running again.  Only minutes at a time... but I was running again, something I honestly thought I would never be able to do again.  And about five months in... I actually allowed myself to officially put "Completing a Half Marathon" on my bucket list... and a month later allowed myself to official register for one and officially started training.  I'm not a runner and I'm not an athlete, but my experiences and my connections with myself and others through this part of my journey continues to blow me away time and time again.  A continued blessing in a really hard place of perseverance and overcome.

And seven months later, as I drove my same red mini van back into the campground, parked next to the same camper that we'd packed up that previous fall, I couldn't help but look around at all the familiar things - all my favorite things in life right now... the water, the beach, the grass and trees, the campers filled with families, friends, and laughter... and I was acutely aware of how much I was different this time in my return, aware of the small transformations that had been started over the months away.  I returned the same Sara, and yet I also returned an entirely different and new Sara.  I returned stronger and leaner, I returned thinner and more confident.  I returned more aware and more determined than ever.

I was overwhelmed and humbled to tears at God's simple and amazing goodness and blessing multiple times over that first weekend.  I cried over my coffee, I cried over the sunset, I cried in the quiet dawn as I read and prayed while my family slept.  God was near, and God was good.  That has not always been the case in my life... and I was very aware of its gift.

Next weekend there is a chance I will be completing and crossing off that half marathon bucket list item.  This leaves me excited and anxious all at once.  Excited at this possible achievement, but also anxious in how I'm going to continue forward this summer afterwards.  I wonder if I will keep fighting through the hard new habits I've been working so diligently on all winter, or if I'll easily give in to the familiar old habits of lake life, giving in to indulgent eating and non existent exercise and self discipline.

I am diligently praying for God to keep me strong (physically, mentally, spiritually) and healthy and keep me moving forward through this new summer season.  I'm praying I will continue to seek Him and hold on to Him and allow His continued work and transformation in me.  He has proven to me over and over His amazing grace and goodness, and I am grateful.  I am humble. I am healthy. I am hopeful.  I am filled with joy.

{ Previous Blog post "Tackling The To-Do Lists" HERE }

Tackling The To-Do Lists

This might surprise you, but I am a crazy list person. (insert LOL emoji) I am organized and driven by the rows and rows, lines and lines of set and random things I need to do, to accomplish, to overcome, to cross off. I have lists on the counter at home. I have lists on the counter at work.  I'm one of those who puts "make lists" on my to-do list. There is nothing better than the faint smell of sharpie marker after a productive day.

I have been a list maker for as long as I remember. My mom is a list maker… she taught and modeled by great example. I grew up within the mindset that life is measured by what we do, what we accomplish, what we achieve and what we overachieve. Lists are a tangible, visible way to organize, accomplish, and ultimately view all that we do - or at least aspire to do.

But here’s the things about my lists. Every day, every week I would put on all this stuff, all the things that I felt needed to be done before I could move on to anything “personal,” anything “fun,” anything not “work”. I would require myself to get through that entire two column list before I would allow myself to even consider taking the time to scrapbook, to read, to write, to exercise… Anything before that would surely be selfish and not justified.

But, I’ve recently started changing some of the “whats” that I put on my to-do list.

Oh there’s still all the crazy things that need to get done. The laundry, the dishes, vacuuming, ordering groceries, meal planning and prep, etc etc… But I have started actually putting personal things I want to do, things I enjoy, things I like to do on the list, while intentionally not putting every little needed task on the list, in hopes to actually make time for some of the other things that help fill me, things that are the salves to my weary soul.

I’ve allowed myself to identify and allot time for things for me, myself, and I.

I decided to try adding just a few specific things on my to-do list like ~ "Monday exercise: 4 Elliptical miles, Weekend long run: 12 miles, Read 2 chapters, Write 1 new blog, Scrapbook 8 pages, Process, organize, upload photos through current date, etc etc". And I decided to leave off things ~ "Clean bathroom, Dust main floor, Deep clean entire bedroom"… Simply allowing myself to leave some of the things off the list that I never seem to get to anyway, being ok with the fact my house will be a little more messy so I can embrace and love on the messy of myself a little more.

Oh who am I trying to kid, my house has always been messy! I guess I’m just trying to stop using up ten lines on my to-do list attempting to perfect the imperfect, and opening up a few lines to allow some margin in my day, to work on embracing more of my life and the things I really want to do, should be allowing myself to do.

The needs of my family, home, friends, and jobs are still the majority of the lines on my lists of course, but I am trying hard to consciously overcome that ingrained guilt associated with self care… soul care… me time… I have been amazed to find that by allowing little bits of time for my own self has benefited my life, and all those around me, tenfold. It’s a crazy concept really… taking more time away from others and giving more time to ourselves, we actually all benefit immensely.

Loving yourself is interestingly very hard. Balancing self love and soul care is oddly super tricky. Lowering the bar of achievement and perfection is an odd ladder to come down from. I have found there are so many mind games and social anxieties involved in this transition.

Like everything in life, there are days and seasons when it’s easier and I’m much more successful. There are moments and minutes when I fail the balancing of it all - when I’m a little too selfish in my own time and commitment to myself, or when I allow myself to listen to the whispers that I’m actually not worth the time and effort.

I will never master or conquer my to-do lists. I will always and forever find more I want, or feel, I need to do than I will ever be able to accomplish. I will never be one that will stop creating lists week after week after week. I will unfortunately always be a quirky over-organized overachiever. I will never understand how there are people in life who actually successfully navigate life and stores without operating and being closely attached to a clear plan-of-attack scrawled on pieces of paper here, there, and everywhere.

But, I so pray I will continue to at least attempt onward with this self awareness, knowing I need to more-than-occasionally insert myself, my health, my loves, my joys onto the lines and spaces of my daily life.

We cannot continue to forever cross off the necessary and mundane tasks of our lives without stopping to rest and refill our own selves. And we cannot rest and fill our own selves without intentionality, without a tiny layer of selfishness, and without an awareness and fighting grace that we are in fact, absolutely worth it.

{ Previous Blog, "Dressing Room Meltdown" HERE }

Dressing Room Meltdown

I found myself overwhelmed and in tears in the dressing room at a Walmart (of all places) the other night. I needed some new sports bras (because well… when you want some of you to shrink, it never fails that all of you ends up shrinking a little - wink). I was also trying to find something to wear while running, that I could also wear casually at the lake this summer. My wardrobe is a little limited at the moment. Let’s just say there are a lot of belts and puckered pants waistlines going on, which is fine… but seriously, on occasion it’s just fabulous to wear something that doesn't need to be belted and readjusted all day.

I have to be honest, I have no idea what size I currently am, especially when it comes to stretchy athletic clothes and sports bras. I am not an athlete, and have never been one. My fitness and weight loss journey has not been focused so much on pounds and pants sizes. I have never measured anything - other than my food ounces for weight watcher points.

Well, I had an arm full of sizes and a few different style options to try on. Shopping for, and actually wearing "athletic wear" is something completely out of my realm and comfort level. (In the past I would have never considered wearing yoga pants out my front door… heck, I finally allowed myself to wear a pair of leggings with a long tunic in public for the first time only three months ago!) Well, there was one outfit I felt actually fit, but it was a loudly patterned blue matching capri and sports top. It was so completely not me in any way (you know, it wasn’t solid colored, black, and baggy…) And yet, I kept coming back to the fact that it was something that actually kind of fit… There were two other pair of athletic capris on the floor, next to two sports bras, all of which I was mentally toying with actually letting myself purchase.

Ok yes, I wanted to purchase them - because they actually fit better than everything I currently wear exercising. And well, new clothes in smaller sizes are kind of a fun thing… but I really didn’t have the money to justify this purchase (because I somehow let myself talk myself into buying a laptop a few weeks ago and I’m still dealing with buyers guilt from that even though I absolutely LOVE it)… But as I stood there looking in the mirror at myself, I found my biggest hesitancy was actually more an inability to allow myself to purchase them because of the sizes printed on their tags, irregardless that they actually fit.  And if I didn't allow myself to buy the size I was actually currently in, then I also wouldn't have to continue to keep working so diligently to have to maintain my current status quo.

I’m half marathon training (and I don’t know why, because I’m not a runner you know…) but I am in a season of diligently working out and I’m actually kind of healthy right now. But this is not my normal, don’t be mistaken here… Long term diet and exercise success are not my strength. Giving up, quitting, roller coaster weight gain and loss, seasons between almost success and utter defeat are my go-to over and over and over again.

So, why should I allow myself to celebrate the success I am currently at, when I probably won’t stay there much longer anyway? Why spend money on something that might not fit me forever - heck it might not fit me next month... Why indulge in a non-necessity? I’m scheduled to run that 13.1 miles in less than seven days - what if I quit running and exercising all together eight days from now? I’ll have then sweat in them (maybe a little anyway - as I don’t sweat either), would have had to have taken the tags off, and then I wouldn't be able to return them any longer. And if I can’t return them, and I can’t possibly wear them forever (or even next month), then I couldn't allow myself to grant justification to purchase and wear them right now, when in fact, they would actually fit and would have an actual purpose.

I so wanted to embrace this far out, fun blue patterned workout outfit… but instead it left me in tears, sad sobs from a hurt and fear deep within… I was at a crossroads between feeling far too old, remembering ache of past failures, a battle of self consciousness, and trying to deny acknowledging my current successes. There was a guilt, a gratitude, a humbleness, an excitement, and a heavy dread all mixed around it as well. My emotions were suddenly as jumbled as the fabric pattern in my hands.

Granted I was tired, it was the end of a long day, after a long weekend. I’d been putting in some big training days physically, I'd been putting in some big days mentally as a mom, wife, and full time employee who’s lightly navigating a season of change - both outside in nature, inside within myself, as well as around me at work.

Later that night after I got home and was awake in bed thinking about it, still taken off guard by how easy the lies and whisper of “less than” could still seep in and affect me, even after all the hard work and success I have currently come to achieve. In the blink of an eye that had all been momentarily stripped away as I stood facing myself in a full length mirror in a poorly lit small dressing room of a dirty megastore.

I had come out of that room in tears and left my poor husband pushing the cart behind me as I walked away attempting to re-collect myself, totally clueless as to what in the world had just happened. I hadn't even come out and let him see me in any of them... But then he did something… he took those clothes, with their price tags and size stickers, put them in the cart, and purchased them. I found them when I got home. He said I could return them if I decided I really didn’t want them.

He believed in me, he was proud of me, he wanted to continue to invest in me, to support my current dreams and passions, to simply be present in my present. And then he quietly said - “Honey, they’re workout clothes - they’re designed to be tight, who cares if you aren’t this size forever.  Just give them a try, who knows - maybe you’ll really like them.”

Who cares if you aren’t this size forever.  Those are some powerful words for an obsessed protectionist with overachieving, under-performing tendencies to try ingest. He has never uttered two words (positive or negative) about my weight in the entire time I have known him (and I have fluctuated 20-30-40 pounds up and down more than once), and I've always been grateful for that. I’m the one in our relationship who carries around the crazy self image complex and lack of confidence, which leaves me with Walmart meltdowns.

Today. Today I am healthy. Today I am an almost runner, who just might run a half marathon, and who just might wear a crazy blue workout outfit out in public. This moment within today is all we are guaranteed. I have learned this over and over on this Journey To Faith. Again I am brought back in, again I am reminded of the importance of right here and right now.

Again I am grateful and humbled for all God has blessed me with.

Don’t waste today worrying about tomorrow. Don’t waste today stumbling over yesterday. Live today, fully and faithfully, in the right now of the true gift that it is.

And by gosh by golly... seriously, let's all just wear the clothes that fit us today, right now!  Whether that means buying another size up, or buying a few sizes smaller, let's all stop trying to squeeze into things too tight and drown in things too big.  Life is far too short for dressing room drama! :-)

{ Next Blog Post "Tackling The To-Do Lists" HERE }

{ Previous Blog Post "Almost There", click HERE }