Touch Of Heaviness

Tonight I find myself aimlessly walking through the house, a touch of heaviness coursing through me, something I sort of haven’t felt in a while. I catch my reflection in the mirror and hear the hissing whisper of insecurity, I can almost feel the spittle from the silent inner breath trying to convince myself I’m not enough, reminding me of my shortcomings, my failures, my lack, my weaknesses.

I feel the drive, the energy, the determination slowly dissipating. The lethargy, the defeat, the frustrating indifference slowly seeping in to refill their void. I feel I’m losing my resolve, losing my focus, losing my will to continue forward, to remain strong. I feel the shackles of weight gain and I can’t help but wonder just where this is coming from.

Why now, why this change… with a bigger question screaming within… what if I can’t overcome this? What if today continues on through tomorrow, and tomorrow into next week? What if yesterday was actually the last day of my control, of my quest for health, of my semblance of self control still somewhat resting within my hands?

I’ve worked so hard, for so long. I’ve fought this particular battle for almost two years now. Yet, in the past, I have always failed. I have always fallen off the wagon, I have always gained all the weight back and ended up back at square one, defeated, and usually with a few extra pounds in tow.

It always happens, it’s just a matter of time.
I just really didn’t want it to happen again this time.

This time, this quest, I’ve not allowed it to just be about the weight.  I’ve forced myself to deal with my health and myself, all of myself, from inside out. Mind, body, and soul. I’ve made myself open doors, expose skeletons, wrestle demons, and begin slowly destroying the walls of my own unobtainable expectations, one little brick at a time.

The wall I’ve built around myself over the last forty-three years is stacked so high with my expectations, my perfections (or lack there of), my misconceptions. It just gets higher and higher, mortared and anchored tight by the fear, and anxiety, and control issues associated simply by believing the whisper that’s always telling me I have never been enough.

I’ve never been popular enough, smart enough, thin enough, athletic enough, pretty enough, quiet enough, graceful enough. I’ve never been a stellar wife, or mom, or daughter, or friend. I’ve probably always gotten an A for effort, but always fallen just short of actually achieving the final grade.

So, here I sit tonight, again at the crossroads, at the precipice of wanting to hold on just a little longer while also wanting to jump ship all together. I’m one of those who has no in between. It’s all in or all out. This falls true in every aspect of my life. Food, alcohol, exercise… just to name a few. I cannot allow myself an inch, because I’ll fall a mile and then some. And I fall quick and I fall hard.

I’ve been fighting the “falling off” moment for a long time. Heck I’ve been fighting the “falling off” moment since before I even got on, before I got the courage and gumption to even get started. I can go back and read and remember time and again that I’ve been here, on this same strugglebus heavy with anticipation and dread.

Yes, I have stood here time and time again. Yes, I have allowed this be the defining moment of defeat time and time again. Yes, I have fought this to not be that moment time and time again over the past two year.

I want this time to be different. I really and honestly do. I want to succeed long term this time. I want to love myself fully, as fully as God loves me. I want to be enough for myself, as I know God created me, in His very imagine, and called me good… no, not just good… He created me and called me very good. If God created me to be enough in His eyes, why in the world is it so hard for me to be enough in my own eyes?

I’ve continued to hold on, continued to dig in my nails, and inch along “just a few more days” now for over a year. I scroll back though photos of a year ago, through blog posts and social media posts from a year ago… and I am not as on point, on course, die hard, dedicate, determined as I was then. I’m still plodding along, but the sparkle is fading. The glitter and glitz and glam is growing dangerously dim.

I’m faced yet again with the choice to either wake up tomorrow and seize another day, or sleep in and allow myself to slip just a little bit farther down this slippery slippery slop that I’m already losing my footing on. Do I wake up and make myself get out there before dawn, or wake up and pass on the goal, pass on the reality at hand, pass on the hope of tomorrow, pass on the promise of today, pass on the improvement over yesterday?

“To be or not to be, that is the question...” I believe is one of those famous quotes I would have to google search to give proper credit to. It’s late and I’ll leave that up to you, and my apologies for whomever I am not giving proper credit to.

Not giving proper credit to… Interesting concept. I think about this a little… I type these words again… Not giving proper credit to… I stop and really look at these words, realizing it’s not just about some random person who stated the above quote one day, but also it’s to myself, and even more importantly, it’s to God that I’m also not giving proper credit to. I have done the work, put in the miles, logged the food points, continued to work through the inner junk now for two years - and in reality it is a little silly to consider that one rough night, one night of depression and weakness might be just enough to turn me back around and allow me to quit, allow me to throw it all away.

I need to look beyond myself, beyond my lack and my insecurities and also see all that God has given me in this season, all that He has blessed me with in this journey right now, all He has brought me to and through over the past two years. Here I am all worried and upset about letting myself down, but it’s really God that is the one I’d also be letting down, if I just turn the perspective around - away from myself. He’s the one pushing me and pulling me along, ever so gently, ever so graciously, ever so lovingly. He has created and crafted me, He has given me gifts and talents, He has given me purpose and reason, He has given me undue forgiveness, repeated and unnecessary second chances. I must remember to give Him credit due, as I stumble and flounder just a little.

I can’t do this on my own, and it’s tough moments like right now that remind me of that, and I’m grateful. Grateful for the inner whisper, grateful for the promise of better, grateful for the reality of forever. Forever in Heaven, away from the sin of the world, away from the insecurities and imperfections. Grateful the trials of tonight will just continue to mold me and melt me and reshape me more and more into that which I was actually created and intended to be. 

They say there won’t be sadness in Heaven. Or sickness, or weariness, or false realities. I’m also hoping there won’t be treadmills and diets and calories and weight watchers meeting in Heaven either. But all joking aside… tonight I am struggling, and I admit it. And I know I’m not the only one. I’m sure there is a sea of us right now with heavy hearts and weary souls, not wanting to get up and tackle another day tomorrow. We want to give up, check out, take the easy road and just call it good enough. But we also know that good enough never actually is good enough.

But why can’t it be? Why can’t good enough just simply be enough?

Oh goodness, this is all starting to make my mind hurt. My eyes are heavy, and I'm just too tired to keep caring, to keep fighting it all, to keep fighting myself.  I have been stumbling over this damn fallen log of being "enough" my entire life.  You would honestly think at some point I would finally figure out how to just cut it up in little pieces and remove it entirely... but I can't.  No matter what I do, I still have to fall into, climb over, shimmy around, and jump down from this obstacle blocking the yellow brick road on my journey to oz.

I desperately want to be able to do it all, and be it all, and have it all... all by myself... but I can't.  So I shall simply close my mind and open my heart and admit I can't do this all on my own.  And well... I don't need to. I don't need to do it all on my own.  I have a mighty God behind me, before me, beside me, rooting and cheering me on.  And I have a small tribe of friends and family who love me beyond comprehension and are also waving me along as I continue down this path, on this one single life that I have been given.

I am weary.  My heart is heavy.  But, I am grateful.

{ Previous Blog post "Go The Extra Mile" HERE }

{ Next Blog Post "First Day of the 2nd Half of the Year HERE }

Go The Extra Mile

Remember that silly little run that I had myself all worked up about, all anxious about a few weeks ago, the one on my bucket list, the one I was training for before I could convince myself to even register for?

Ok it actually wasn't so "silly" and I took the whole thing rather quite seriously truth be told, and "little" was maybe the overall size of the race of participants (two hundred fifty-ish) in comparison to the eight thousand runners I ran beside last October in DesMoines... but as for the distance, thirteen point one miles is still thirteen point one miles no matter what race you register for, no matter what town you're in, and it's actually not that "little."

Well, that run happened this past weekend.  And I was there.  I started and I finished, I got that finishers metal, and I got to cross something really big off my little bucket list.  And in my book and in my heart, it was huge.

I had to do a lot of planning and juggling to make this one happen.  New job, no PTO, juggling the ten year old and dogs from here to there, from church camp to home, from home to the camper, from grandparents to the brother and girlfriend, to friends at the campground while brother and girlfriend went to a golf tournament.  Amazingly enough, it all worked out, and my hubs and I embarked on a small adventure I am sure we will never forget.  Lol.

I won't get into the details, but let's just say it was a small town, with an even smaller town hotel that I knew only had a one star rating online.  We'll just leave it this... the toilet seat was broke, the air conditioning didn't work, the cable tv box wasn't hooked up to the tv, and the entire hotel smelled, well... horrible.  Luckily we were there merely a matter of hours, we were in and out of town in less than sixteen hours.

So why this race, why this town you ask.  Well, it was a half marathon that started and ended in a covered bridge, and I am a die hard covered bridge lover, and I have been since the moment I entered my very first one in Winterset Iowa one night at dusk almost two decades ago.  The romance, the history, the nostalgia, the symbolism, just everything about covered bridges touches me, moves me, inspires me, draws me to them.  I put it on my bucket list the day I first heard about this particular race two years ago, long before I ever knew I actually possessed the ability to actually train and run a distance that far.

So, basically the main reason I ran this was, well... because I could. Over the last few years I have first hand come to learn we are not guaranteed tomorrow. We are not guaranteed our health a year from now, we are not guaranteed our spouse will still be beside us next year, we are not guaranteed retirement... For two years I had said, "Oh maybe next year I'll run that covered bridge half marathon..." and then about a month ago I simply decided I can’t take the chance on waiting to maybe try make it work next year.  I might not be here next year.

Right here, right now I’m alive, I’m relatively injury free (minus a few aches and pains and discomforts). I’m able to train and travel in this current season of my life.  And yet, I had a really hard time signing up and taking this one on.  It was the big one in my mind, the elusive bucket list one, and this one took a lot of effort and sacrifice from my family and friends.  What if I got there and couldn't finish, what if it went terrible and I didn't get to come home with a finishers metal?  For some reason I struggled mentally with this race, mostly because I had held it up on such a high pedestal for so long, and I was so scared of failing myself and disappointing myself and everyone else.  So much so that I almost didn't do it.  And then I almost signed up to only run the 10k (because the 10k finishers also got metals at this race).  But then there was the text from the hubs saying he would drive me there, but only if I signed up to do the half.  Go big or go home he had said.  No regrets he had said.

It's a good thing he knows me so well, hu?

I could have signed up for the 10k, finished after six point two miles, and gone home with a finishers metal, I was quite confident that was a distance I could accomplish.  But I did in fact sign up for the half.  Thirteen point freaking one miles. Double digits, and I lacked the confidence to defeat the fear within me the entire time I trained.

And then suddenly it was Friday night, and we had arrived, and I was standing alone in that beloved covered bridge in the little town of Zumbrota, MN.  I'd been to this bridge once before, a super quick stop on our way home once before we were even married.  And now here I was again, the eve of another half marathon. 

It was raining that night when I left the bridge, and continued into the next morning. I woke up and the radar showed we were in the middle of a large and slow moving system.  It rained.  It poured.  It lightening. It thundered.  I sat on the bed in the sad little hotel room and wondered what in the world would happen if they would cancel it.  I was filled with dread over whatever the outcome was going to be.  It was either going to be canceled, no race at all, or it wasn't going to be canceled and we were going to have to run in the weather that nature was handing out that morning.

We made our way back to the bridge and gathered inside with many other runners.  It was cold and wet.  The thunder and lightening continued, and low and behold at 7:30am ~ a mere thirty minutes later than originally scheduled, they officially sent the half marathoners on their way.  The 10K would follow shortly after, and then the 5K'ers.  My hubs had surprised me and signed up to do the 5K, so he was donned with a number and ventured out into the elements as well.  I missed both his start and his finish, but I was so proud of him.

The miles weren't exactly easy, but the first few miles did surprise me how quickly they slipped by.  Soon I was leaving the roadway and veering to the left onto a paved path that had once been an old railroad.  It really was a breathtaking route.  Lush greenery lined both sides and I can only imagine how it would have looked with sunshine sparkling through the leaves and wildflowers instead of the pelting rain and streaks of lightening.

Mile three ticked by and then there was a turnaround spot for the 10k'ers.  The half marathoners were to continue onward, which I did.  I distinctly remember thinking that I would have been half way through the race already if I had signed up to run the 10K.  And then I looked up, and right after the start of mile four, there in front of me, was another covered bridge.  A bridge I had no idea existed.  I could hardly believe it.  As I stepped onto and crossed it I laughed out loud and said "Bonus Bridge!"  It was so fun... then I got to cross it again on my way back after hitting our turn around spot.

I told everyone I only wanted to finish, that was my only goal.  But of course we all know the truth inside ourselves when we say those kinds of things.  Of course I wanted to finish, but I also really wanted to PR (break my personal record) and I really wanted to Sub2 (finish under two hours).  I admitted these two things to very few people.  I ran hard, I stayed right in front of the 2:00 pace setter for the first ten miles.  He slowly made his way next to me during mile eleven, and then I couldn't keep up any longer.

Mile twelve was hard.  Really hard.  I wanted to walk.  I wanted to quit.  I wanted it to just be over.  I was tired, I was wet, I was mentally and physically done.

But I refused to let myself walk.  I continued on through puddles ankle deep.  I wove through cul de sacs in figure eights that had not one single spectator out cheering anyone on. Then along the side of a busy highway, and then back to weaving my way through the park.  I could see the bridge, and I could see my 2:00 pace setter slowly creeping further and further ahead of me.  My runkeeper app stopped talking to me before mile seven.  I went from getting my distance, speed, and average pace updates every five minutes and every mile to nothing.  Nothing at all.  I knew I wasn't going to Sub2, and assumed I would not PR (2:05).  I rounded a few more corners and climbed the final hill into the end of the bridge.  I looked at the numbered that lit up the bridge.  2:02.  I had in fact PR'ed, and I had in fact finished.

I had done it.  I had officially checked this race off my bucket list.

In the end I found out I didn't just finished and get to come home with a finishers metal.  I also came in 3rd place for my age group.  Who would have thunk?!?  RunningNonRunner me would come home with not one, but two metals!  They called my name during the awards afterwards and I got to go up and get that second metal.  Pretty surreal.  And the hubs came in 5th place in his age group!

We were showered and in the car heading out of town less than an hour later, muscles sore and hearts full.  We talked and laughed and took turns sleeping on the way home.

The next night I went out on a walk on our local trail that had also once been a train track, just a few blocks from our house.  I walked, my legs and muscles more sore than the day before.  As I walked, dusk slowly settling around me, I was struck with the reality... Had I only signed up to run the 10K, I would have turned around shortly after mile three.  I would have never continued on to mile four, and I would have never known about or gotten to run across that 2nd covered bridge.

You know, people believed in me, people encouraged me, and I chose to not give in to the fear and doubt whispering its sweet nothings endlessly into my ear. I chose to believe in myself and just go for it, to train hard, to allow myself myself, to be just a little selfish, to just take on those few extra miles in my attempt to accomplish something big, something larger than I'd ever dreamt I'd be able to achieve.

And I want to tell YOU to not be afraid to believe in yourself, to push yourself, to just go a little longer, just a little farther, push just a little harder, give yourself yourself.  You have no idea what's waiting for you over that next hill, around that next corner, after that next accomplishment, in that next mile ahead.  Grasp your strength and show yourself, and the world around you, what you're made of, what you're capable of.

Find the balance... find how to live in the middle of being a good steward of life and resources, while not misering it away, not wasting it away, not wishing it away.  Be intentional, be purposeful, be fully present and invested in the right here and right now... not lost in the what ifs of yesterday and the what might bes of tomorrow.  Wear that favorite perfume, burn your favorite candle, drink that favorite bottle of wine... Don’t save your favorite things for too long, don't keep telling others and yourself you'll do it "later..."  Do it now, be there for your family now, be there for yourself now. 

I guarantee that what’s waiting in that one more mile will be knock-your-socks-off awesomesauce. And if it’s not, or if you can’t quite do it, can’t quite get there yet this time... don’t give up! Get back out there tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. I promise God will keep waking you up every morning and filling you with the purpose and strength you need to go just a little farther, just a little faster, just a little stronger each and every day.

And don't forget to turn around and look for those on their journeys around you.  See them, believe in them, encourage them, love them.  None of us would be where we are today if someone hadn't believe and invested in us, and we need to all be sure we are doing the same to those around us.

Be influential. Be inspirational. Be intentional. Run that race, chase that dream, grab for that goal, go that extra mile further than you want, further than you believe you can, further than everyone else thinks you can. Because you know what, I believe in you and I know you CAN!

{ Previous Blog post "Zombie Autopilot Mode" HERE }

Zombie Autopilot Mode

Dear heavens, it's after 9:30pm already.  My eyes can barely stay open, my mind shut off hours ago... I'm in zombie mode, autopilot mode, exhaustion mode, emotion overload mode, race week emotional freak out mode, mom of homesick son at camp mode.

I'm rarely up this late, two nights in a row none-the-less.  I'm usually long in bed and asleep by 9pm, the ten year old nestled in beside me.  But he's gone at camp... and he's a wreck right now. He's homesick, not wanting to participate and not wanting to eat.  We spent much of the night in communication with the camp and when they let him call us, all he did was cry... sobbing into the phone that he wants to go home.  Ohhhh mama mia.

And you know what happened about an hour before the camp communications started, "race week" inner freak out hit me.  It came out in the form of snappy, grumpy, snippy, catty person to the hubs, who was just sitting on the couch on his phone minding his own business.

Why do we act our worst towards those we love the most?

Oh yes, he asked how my day went I went all freak out on him about headphones and blue tooth and weather temperatures and wind speed and wind direction and if I’ll be running into the wind and turning around or running into the wind after turning around and sports bras and tank tops and bathroom rules for Saturday morning. (In, out, done. No “shitting” around on a darn cell phone for forty minutes in there.)  We spat over driving routes and restaurant locations that provide steak and steamed vegetable options (I am NOT eating at a mcdonalds at 10pm the night before a half marathon for heaven-to-betsy!).

I forgot that he hasn’t ever done with this with me before, he’s never seen me race before, he’s never seen me before the before of the race.  It’s not pretty, and he is already not impressed and has very little tolerance for my angst and insecurity shenanigans.  Oh, and then I remembered how we often do not travel well together, because I can’t read a map and we go all cold shoulder with each other and won’t talk for most of the 4.5 hours we’re sitting beside each other in the vehicle. Oh and I won’t even comment on the radio volume and the temperature setting.  Earplugs and a blanket.  Note to self, need to be sure to pack earplugs and a blanket.  And food.  Oh gosh, and he doesn’t take food when we travel, and I’m going to be packing a cooler of food (cuz really, who goes anywhere without a bag of baby carrots and bananas and fat free cottage cheese and plain greek yogurt?!?)… This could get interesting. {wink}.

Yes, it's inner turmoil, inner drama, inner expectations, inner pre-conceived hopes, fears, insecurities sparking out like rogue cinders from a crackling cackling campfire.  It's all going on, churning and burning in my mind and my body, and yet I'm just too exhausted to really even care, really fully grasp and process both the pettiness and the magnitude of it all... and yet, I’m apparently not quit exhausted enough to be able to control it or turn it off from all its raging and roaring within me.

I am women, hear me roar.

(Oh gosh did I really just type that?!? Yes, I am losing my ever love’n marbles.)  ~lol ~hilarious.

Ok, back to seriousness now. (And an apology to the hubs for all said negativity listed above, and I promise I will only post happy perfect looking photos of us on social media this coming weekend ~lol.)  So, none of this is new... This has been the rotating story of my life in one form or another for the past forty three years.  I find it funny how surprised and worked up it always still seems to leave me though in its wake and fury.

The clock refuses to stop, it just keeps tick tocking along, bringing me closer and closer to those peak moments, and then suddenly they're there, they’re happening, they’re in the very moment of… and then… then they're gone, they're fading farther and father behind me, nothing but a dim memory. The cycle soon to begin again as a new moment starts appearing ahead on that distant horizon.

I climb out of bed, slowly shuffling along the hardwood floor to our back door.  I slide it open and slowly sink onto the makeshift wooden step, aka my 2x3 foot "deck." {wink}  There's no fancy aqua adirondack chairs like at the lake, no glider and table set like the one I fell in love with at the local hardware store... but there is this beautiful sky, the whisper of a fading sunset after a hot day and a pop up summer evening rainfall.  It's still, the breeze in the trees, and in the dim light I open my devotions.  The devotions I was too busy to read this morning, because I had overslept and chose to skip in my attempt to still do a short work out, shower, and not be late to work.

I rarely oversleep, and I am rarely not running alongside an inner weariness.

I look down at the words.  I re-read them with tears forming in the corners of my eyes, blurring the words in the ever deepening darkness.

"We must learn to let God do the heavy lifting.  Let Him supply the ability to energize our choices.  We can choose to exercise or stop overeating, but our choice alone is not enough for compete victory.  Willpower and determination will get us started, but they've been known to quit in the middle and leave us stranded.  God never quits in the middle... God has not created us to function well without Him, and the sooner we learn that the better.  Ask God to get involved, to do the heavy lifting.  Continue on with God and finish with God.  What should we do when the burdens in life seem too heavy?  Jesus said, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." ~Matthew 11:28  (Joyce Meyer's Trusting God Day by Day).

That right there, is my life verse, and has been for years and years.  And that message could not have been more fitting, the perfect bookend, the reminder and gentle salve to this weary heart and troubled mind tonight.

As my friend who is also reading this same daily devotional has said over and and over to me "It's as if the book is actually blank, each page with each date is empty and white... until we open it up, and God writes that days devotions specifically for us, about exactly what we need to hear from Him, on that exact date."  Time and again I am left smiling at the truth in that concept.

Perfect timing, from a perfect God, whispering life and love into my very imperfect self.  God, here's to the heavy lifting I give to You.  Take my weary burdens and allow me rest.  Allow me rest...

{ Next Blog post Go The Extra Mile HERE }
{ Previous Blog post "Off To Camp" HERE }

Off To Camp

I packed up my ten year old last night and sent him off to camp this afternoon for a week. His first time at camp, his first time away from family overnight, my first time as a parent sending a child off to any kind of camp.

He left, and I was left in a sea of crazy emotions. Yeah, yeah ~ when am I NOT in a sea of crazy emotions, I know. But in my attempt to just "continue forward" - in this season of "one foot in front of the other", I think I failed to prepare myself for the next step after.  You know, the one that follows the getting them where they have to go and waving goodbye.  I didn't think about that, I didn't process that, at least not really, until the moment was actually upon me.

We have been talking about church camp for a while at our house.  He mentioned it this winter and I decided to just dive in and sign him up.  Don't look at the price, don't think about the possible battle to get him there, along with the probable home-sickness...  Just sign him up before he's suddenly turning twenty-one and you never did get around to signing him up, never did give him the opportunity to add that life experience to his journey.  Yes, that may have been exactly what happened with my older son.  I was a single mom during some of those years, and then the mom to an incredibly cranky high needs baby as he drifted from pre-teen to teen to adult.  I never sent my oldest to camp, and yes, I carry mom guilt about that.

I went to church camp several times growing up.  While I don't remember it exactly, I do have several memories that I still hold near and dear.  One of which was a night candle lighting service that left my little awkward nine or ten year old self a mess of tears as I opened my heart and soul to God's calling.  I grew up in a Christian home, I don't have a major ahh-haa Christ moment, but that night at camp is one of the first memories I had of feeling that undeniable stirring of the Holy Spirit deep within me at grand and significant level.  I can even tell you what pajamas I wore to bed that night, and I have no idea why.

I've always said our ten year old is predictably unpredictable.  He is like clockwork with his total unpredictability.  It keeps us on our toes and keeps us in a usually state of exhaustion as we try to navigate life attempting to stay just a few inches ahead of him, yet always coming up a few feet behind.

We've struggled a little with attachment and control issues, and yet deep in that fragile inner core, surrounded by his irritability and grumpiness, is one who still loves to be home, still loves his blankie, and still always ends up sleeping in our camper despite his every attempt and desire to sleep over in the tent with his friend.

I guess I subconsciously tried to put off thinking about it, we talked about it but didn't really "talk" about it.  He's a little tricky that way.  You can't bring things up too far in advance because he will manifest and get stuck on it, but you can't wait to long to start talking about it or he will end up in a tailspin of unpreparedness.  He knew camp week was coming up, he knew a few other boys in his class that were going, but that's about it.  Until this weekend, then there was more and more questions, and comments, and last night we had to dig out the pepto tablets for his stomach ache.

He did finally succumb to sleep late last night and part of me wanted to quietly sneak off to work this morning before he was up, and part of me didn't.  But he woke up himself a few minutes before I headed out.  I did all I could to not let his morning grumpies make me have morning grumpies in return, but of course we did in fact have a few grumpy exchanges about eating breakfast, brushing teeth, making the bed, and for the fiftieth time child please leave the dogs alone!

I slid next to him on the couch before leaving, I knew he was anxious.  Silently battling the fear of the unknown, the trauma of choosing not to take his beloved "blankie" along, packing "back-up blankie" instead, and a million other rabbit trails of thoughts and questions and what-ifs that were circling at record speed within his little mind.  I kept waiting for the tears and the pleading "I don't want to go..." to start, but they didn't.  He sat there bravely, knowing the clock was ticking - within a few hours he would be off on this big adventure.

The morning didn't quite go as planned and there ended up being little drama and scramble to get him where he needed to be, but he surprised us yet again as he waved his goodbye and headed out with two other boys from our town as their brave mama buckled up and headed in the direction of the camp, about an hour away.

I sat at my desk at work, wielding texts and phone calls and trying to remotely pick up pieces that didn't quite fall together as we had planned.  And then I got a text and selfie from the hubs - he was dropped off and all went well, and I looked deep into the smiling selfie of the two of them.  There had been no crying, no hanging on his arm to go along, to stay a little longer, to just... to just... to just...

I admit I was rather surprised, but also happy and relieved.  And then I set my phone down and was suddenly overtaken by this sea of emotions.

For the first time I processed the reality that he might actually be gone all week this week.  Granted the phone might ring in the next five minutes and change that reality, but for now... he is in fact there, checked in, and at camp an hour away... doing it all by himself. 

I found myself feeling this odd tug of sadness, realizing that I am going to actually miss him, a lot.  Then there was the tiny thread of excitement over the fact that he might in fact be gone all week! One whole week of not having to get him up, feed him, get his shoes on, get him in the car, argue with him, get him in the shower, get him in bed for the night.  Which of course was immediately met by guilt.  Surely moms are not supposed to feel excitement over things like that (and if we do we are surely never supposed to admit them out loud!).  And woven in was the mom guilt for never sending my oldest to camp and now it's too late for that, and feeling mom guilt that someone else was driving my child to camp and checking him in and turning in all his meds and all the mail I pre-prepared for him to receive this week (and yes, I sent candy in all the envelopes, sorry camp counselors, but honestly, candy is that child's love language!)  In that moment I had mom guilt for changing jobs a few weeks ago and not having any PTO to be able to take him there myself, and wife guilt because the hubs got the call and had to drop everything and help avert the crisis.  And then I was upset that he sat home most of the morning, alone with all his thoughts and worries and anxieties.  Oh mylanta.

Ugh.  All of that (and more) cycled through my brain, and my heart, and my system, in literally less than ten seconds.  I felt the tears sting my eyes and my throat tighten.  I tried to breath and process all the explosions of feelings and thoughts going on inside me all at once, and there I sat at my desk, watching emails with orders and questions continue to pop into my work inbox.

I blinked and breathed.  I blinked a little faster trying to hold back the tears.

This all shouldn't be so hard.  This all shouldn't have to be so over-thought, over-felt, over-processed, over-dramatized.  This ... as in ... life.  Parenting.  Loving.  Leaving.  Learning.  Holding them close.  Letting them spread their wings.  Wanting them near.  Wanting them not near at all.  Wanted to be wanted.  Wanted to be not wanted.  Praying for peace, and sleep, and kindness from the other boys around him.  I'm not there tonight to watch him fall asleep, I'm not there this week to intervene if he's being teased (or if he's the one doing the teasing, heaven forbid).  I'm not there to make sure he respects his peers and his counselors.  I'm not there to make sure his meds get taken, that he showers, that he brushes his teeth, that he eats, that he changes his underwear at least once this week, that he packs everything he brought to bring back home... 

I am not there, and he is not here.

And that is a part of life.  That is part of growing up, part of letting go.

All these crazy emotions swirling and overtaking me inside are both good and bad, happy and sad, joy filled and sorrowful.  I hate the layer of guilt that always always always lines my heart and mind, but I love the tenderness within as I felt that first real pang of knowing how much I'm going to actually miss him.  

I cannot even begin to describe the depth of my pride in him right now.  This was big time stuff going on today. He was anxious, he was nervous, he was scared.  But he didn't let that be stronger than his will to take on this new adventure.  He didn't let it hold him back from taking a few huge steps forward.  He chose brave, and he totally rocked it.

I have no idea if he'll make it through the night tonight, through the day and night tomorrow, or if he'll make it all the way to Friday afternoon when my parents will be taking my place to pick him up and hear all about how it went and see all that he did and meet all his friends.

But what I do know, is that I am surprised and beyond proud of that crazy little ten year old of ours right now.  And I need to be sure to remind myself of this exact moment when he walks back in the house with his pile of laundry and sleeping bag and suitcase that will never close correctly again in its lifetime, with his tired little body that will surly crash and burn once arriving safely back into his safe place... his safe place to fall apart, his safe place to be ugly and vulnerable and real.  His safe place where he will always be loved, no matter what. 

Because in this house, we love each other best when we are being our most unlovable selves.  And that is the beauty of this family, and this house.  It has not always been easy within these walls, but it's in moments like these, when the house is quiet and the peace has settled in around us after another crazy day, that I breathe deep and know I am blessed.

We hold them close and hang on tight during this crazy parenting ride of our lives.  They fall apart, we fall apart.  They grow up, we grow up.  They choose brave, we choose brave.  And suddenly one day they aren't babies any more, or toddlers, or elementary aged, or pre-teens, or even teenagers...  One day you look up and you're looking into the face of a young adult (and if you think parenting children is hard, oh dear me, we won't even talk about the struggle of parenting adult children - that's an entire other blog post all it's own ~lol).  Just be sure to take the time to stop, and see, and feel, and fully experience and embrace all the myriad of emotions, feelings, and reactions.  We only get this one life, this one short life... open your arms wide and embrace it all, good and bad. 

Live and love and find your brave.  Live and love and don't miss theirs, even if it's not ideal, not best case scenario, not exactly how you had planned it out, because I guarantee, it's in those exact moments that God's plans are in fact the perfectly planned plans.

And working moms, and stay-at-home moms, it's totally ok to go cry your eyes out in the restroom on days like today.  And whether you are home, or at work, we are all guaranteed to never get the privacy of getting to be in a restroom alone... there will always be little fingers under the door or someone in the stall next to us, but go ahead and cry, this mom thing is a hard gig to juggle. ;-)

{ Previous blog post "Feeling Lost" here }