One Snapshot in Time

Once upon a time, there was this girl in this photo. It was summer 2018, long before covid, and I had just crossed the finish line of the Zumbrota Half Marathon, at an official time of 2:02:00.

This morning as I held this stack of photos in my hands, slowly thumbing through them, and as I came across this one in particular, it was like I had been kicked in the gut. Oh Lord how I remember that exact moment. The runners high of finishing a half marathon, a bucket list marathon none-the-less, the adrenaline, the endorphins, the exact moment as caught in that split second of time.

Oh gosh I was so… happy, so… healthy, so… in shape, so… skinny (soooo skinny!)… And as I sat here soaking that reality and memory all in, all I could think was, “Wow, I am not that girl anymore.” My heart hurt and my self disappointment overtook me.  I had worked so hard to get myself to that spot.  I'm still working hard, but obviously not hard enough, because that is not where I am at anymore.

Two and a half years ago … a lifetime ago, and a mere blink in time ago.

I almost put the photos back away, I almost backed out of my decision to finish up scrapbooking the long lost, and long forgotten, summer of 2018 photos that I had recently come across while finally finding a small motivation to open my scrapbook room door and even enter it. It’s been a long hard season for me over here, and while I had once carried a great love and desire to scrapbook, that has not been the case for the past year.

I didn’t put the photos back, I didn’t quit and walk away. I decided to just continue on and get them done. The photos are already printed and just sitting there. The scrapbook already 2/3 of the way done. Why not. 

I spread out the photos, deciding which ones to start with. I picked some paper, did some trimming and arranging, all the while just looking at the smile and sparkle in my eyes, and the thin lean legs crossing that finish line.

At first I was frustrated and upset at myself. Why, why did you have to go let all that perfection slip away yet again? Why can’t you ever just maintain your happiness and weight longer than one to two years max? Oh what I wouldn’t give to get myself back to that moment again…

I took a break and flipped through some of the pages of previous 2018 weekends at the lake that I’d scrapbooked over two years ago, that I'd just left abandoned in a large stack on a chair. The more pages I continued to flip through, the more memories started coming back.

You know, I wasn’t so happy that summer. No, I wasn’t happy at all. The hubs and I were not in a great place during that season. I remember sitting with my soon-to-be-daughter-in-law at a cement table overlooking the lake, crying as she held me and talked to me, begging me to see my worth and find my happiness.

No, I wasn’t really truly happy back in June 2018.

I picked up the stack of photos and kept looking. Oh Lord have mercy, how could I have forgotten what a horrible trip that had actually been?!? I had a new job and didn’t have any time off, so we arrived late the night before the race. And the hotel… where to even begin. The main lobby reeked of what I recall as a cat litter type smell, perhaps actually more an issue of Ethnic cooking smells deeply saturated into every carpet, curtain and piece of furniture. No elevator to the 2nd story, all the luggage up the narrow stairwell. Our room… the air conditioner was broken (and it was nearing triple digits outside) the toilet seat was broken, there was no batteries in the tv remote, the tv was not hooked up to cable or dish or whatever, there was no telephone in the room… and by the time we checked out I had a very strong suspicion I had bedbug bites on my left arm.

No, this was not an ideal little getaway back in 2018.

A few more photos flipped, and I remember waking up to rain. No, not rain, thunderstorms with down-pouring rain, thunder, and lightening. We would sit in our car for over an hour while they tried to decide what to do. We would gather inside the covered bridge and wait some more. They finally decided to just let us go (which they should not have with all that lightening. I will never forget that lighting bolt and immediate crack of thunder that hunched me over with my hands over my head and leaving the hairs on my arm tingling and standing straight up, as I stood in a giant puddle). There was no gun, no official start - just a “well… I guess you can just head out.” It poured the entire 13.1 miles. Mud, puddles past my ankles, no water stations, not one person on the street cheering the entire last mile of the race… My goal was to sub 2 … and I was on pace the entire race until the last mile, where I tanked it. I crossed the finish at 2:02:00

No, that was no really such a great race back in 2018.

And then I remember the cold, the body shakes, the long wet wait during awards. Ok, so maybe we had to stay because I had in fact placed 3rd in my age group, and would be getting another medal. Ok, so that was one other tiny good thing. Oh my gosh, and all the missed calls and the text messages during my run from my son and his girlfriend who had our youngest son and had no idea what to do with him because he was such a hot mess after being at camp for a week.

Camp… camp had been so hard to navigate through and we had to coordinate so much with so many people to get our youngest picked up and then dropped off so he could go somewhere else because we had left as soon as I had gotten off work. Oh and the dogs had to have been all shuffled around as well.

So, it had been a crazy week of coordinating everything and everyone so I could just go do that race.

But, that race had been on my bucket list. I had already skipped doing it the summer of 2017 because I didn’t give it priority. I had gone back and forth so many times and finally at last minute had just signed up a few weeks before the event…. I remember thinking how I knew we weren’t guaranteed tomorrow, which was my deciding factor to doing it.

And that thought, right there, made me stop short this morning.

We are not guaranteed tomorrow. My life’s overarching motto, after losing our Faith MaryJo in 2015. We cannot take our health, or anything in our lives for granted. Don’t put off today what you might not be able to do tomorrow.

And you know what I know today that I didn't know then when that photo was taken? In 2019, heavy spring snow would cave in the roof of that covered bridge, and while they still had the race that summer, the bridge was not fully repaired and the bridge could not be part of the race. In 2020, the race would be covid canceled entirely. Had I not signed up for that 2018 race, I would have probably never run it.

Sobering, humbling, grateful, thankful.

Yes, that photo was taken before covid would arrive and change our entire lives, before in person racing was basically taken away for an unknown length of time, before everything and everyone was forced to change in their terms of interactions, and thoughts, and beliefs, and … well, that’s another post for another time. I’m going to leave it simply at, that photo was taken “pre-covid.” This reality speaks for itself right now.

My oldest son and his girlfriend were the ones who took our youngest, and both our pups, to the camper and watched them for us while we were gone. Both our pups… what I also didn’t know then, was our precious Lily would pass away in Jan 2020. There were many photos taken of her that they sent to us while we were gone, and today I am so grateful for those dear dear memories of her! The tears sting my eyes missing her, but there is a smile on my face remembering her.

You know what else, those two would break up that fall. It was hard and devastating, and it would be a long journey in their relationship over the next year and a half. This past March, right at the beginning of covid… they would actually get back together again, and I am beyond ecstatic to share they are getting married in June of 2021. Our house is so full of love, and laughter, and smiles, and planning right now. At the time of that photo, I had no idea the hard turns they would have to go through to get them to today.

The hubs and I are also in a nearly black and white different place than we were during that season of 2018. I think back to all the tears and hard, and while of course not all is “perfect perfect” now, we are in such a happier place. We too had no idea the hard turns we would have to go through to get us to today.

So yes, the physical number on the scale today isn't the number on the scale that morning back in June 2018. My arms and abs aren’t as defined, my legs and butt aren’t as toned… But this morning as I spent the time putting paper and embellishments to all those photos, all holding those moments and memories - it allowed me the time to look beyond that specific “click” in time.

Am I supposed to use this moment to shame myself into eating better and exercising more? Am I supposed to use this moment to try extend myself grace and give myself permission to (for the five-hundredth millionth time) just accept and love myself for the who I am right now?

I don’t know, I honestly don’t know what I will do with these current feelings and emotions within me, all stemming from a look into the eyes of a younger, different, yet the same, me.

Yes, in that moment I was happy, and skinnier, and probably making healthier decisions with the food I ate… but the glitter and sparkle and joy captured thirty-seconds after finishing a bucket list half marathon race that started and ended in a covered bridge of all things great and glorious… was not in fact the total snapshot of my life at that moment.

How easy it is to forget the whole picture, the rest of the story, the real reality beyond that which catch us off guard as we are struck by those few vivid and great moments that come back to us, either from a photograph, or a memory, or a dream, or even a food or smell that sparks something magic in our minds.

How easy it is to just stop there and sit on it. To compare, wallow, be upset, frustrated, and disappointed. To replay all the mental tapes of not good enough yet again.

Heck no, that weekend and time surrounding the glow of that moment caught on that photo wasn’t really all that great at all. So why would my mind latch on to that photo and give it the power to take my breath away and cause a flood of emotions and unworthiness to come over me?

Life isn’t just those single snapshots of stopped time.

Life is the entire journey that is happening all around those snapshots of stopped time. It’s the ups and downs, goods and bads, happy and sads, celebrations and sorrows… all woven together, independent strands within the full tapestry.

It’s just all sometimes a little tricky to figure out how to truly see and honestly handle the chasms, and pockets, and tunnels, and dark hiding spots within our minds eye.

How do we see with clarity looking backwards, and how to do we see with truth looking forwards? So much of it is an optical illusion of smoke and mirrors, just trying to trick us, and fool us, and trip us up… which is exactly what the devil is twisting his hands with and trying to manipulate us with. And logically, we know it... we do, we know our mind is trying to hyjack us... and yet it still so quickly and so easily happens.  In the blink of an eye.

"Breath deep" is the phrase the Lord has whispering in mind right now as I’m writing this. Heaven knows I obviously do not have all the answers to any of this, and I will forever struggle with self image and being enough. 

And while a part of me is still struggling with the inner critic and judgements, I find myself so grateful I didn’t stop this morning and just walk away, grateful that I owned those moments and memories and spent the time to allow myself to see and process more clearly the whole of that moment, and feel gratitude in the continuation I see now, but couldn’t then. 

No, I am not that same girl as the one that stood on that finish line that day.  I'm two and a half years older, two and a half more years of life and circumstance happened since then and now.  In reality, I do have to attempt to ask myself, am I really that much "worse" ? This I also don't know the answer to right now.  Just because my weight and BMI is perhaps higher, and my running pace slower, does that emphatically define me as being in a "worse" place in life now compared to then?  And actually, it's been a year since the last time I have gotten myself on my scale, so I'm not sure how factual the facts are and how made up these facts may actually be within my mind.

Perhaps I'm simply in a "different" place?  I'm still running and moving and pushing my body regularly.  I'm still trying to be concious of my health.  I'm still trying to be true, authentic, kind, honest, and real.  Those core values of mine have not changed, and really - isn't that more important than that damn number on the scale?

"Breath deep my child. Know that I created you as enough, even though you cannot seem to fully grasp this concept. You are the whole tapestry, not just the individual snapshot threads of your overall journey. You are all of it… the full, vast, bright spectrum of colors and shapes as seen from a distance, all together, all at once. Be brave, be proud, be enough." ~Jesus, your Lord and Savior.

Next Blog Post { Where I Am Now - Covid Month Nine } HERE

Previous blog post { I've Stopped  } HERE

I've Stopped...

I’ve stopped listening to podcasts, I’ve stopped reading self-help and motivational books, and I’ve stopped going on FB to just randomly scroll… at least for now anyway. I’m sure this will probably change over time, but for now… I just can’t.

I no longer have the capacity to really let anything more in.

Right now life is hard, and frankly it just sucks all the way around. There’s covid-19, rampant forest fires, presidential and political adds, debates, and general crap everywhere. No one is happy, no one is getting along, no one is healthy physically, let alone mentally.

Honestly it’s just really too much for me if I attempt to process is on a finite scale.

I found myself trying to make myself listen to the daily podcasts in my social wellness group, and then on to my once favorite running podcasts, and I was left… just feeling lost, empty, broken… less than. And well, I was feeling very “/ lost / empty / broken / less than” before I even started listening, so what good was any of it possibly doing me?

The last thing that I need right now is more feeling of inadequacy and not enough. What I assumed was supposed to be making me better, stronger, faster – was in fact just dragging me further and further down.

The bodies, the muscles, the mile paces, the distance times, the business successes, the money, the positivity, the home remodels, the DIY covid projects, the all-together all-the-time, the homeschooling, the beautiful and clean homes and living / working spaces, the tidy lives, the happy children, the romantic spouses. Ugh.

My house is a mess, my life is a mess, my body is a mess, and Lord knows… my mental health is a mess.

I stopped listening to all of it, and really to background music all together, I don't even have the radio on in the car.  On rare occassion I will listen to some classical piano by Michele McLaughlin. I quit Melissa Radke and Mel Robbins Live's months ago, and I can’t even Rachel Hollis, Glennon Doyle, and Jen Hatmaker right now #justNO.

I stopped reading self help and started reading fiction. I have read the entire Twilight Saga since July and have thoroughly enjoyed it. I’m currently reading another Stephanie Meyer book, The Chemist, and enjoying it much more than anticipated. I am still watching zero TV. No tv shows, no reality shows, no news, nothing. Ok, except season 2 reruns of What Not To Wear and an occasion Twilight movie (only after having completed reading the book, yeah I’m one of “those” people) while on my treadmill during the really long training days.

Over the last several months I’ve kept my mouth shut, my brain as closed down as possible, and my emotions and feelings flatlined. Survival mode. I quit blogging, I quit trying to think, to process, to reason, to argue with myself, or anyone else for that matter … self preservation mode at its finest. Multi-tasking, once one of my finer talents, not even an option.

I’ve given up all in-person running races. Well, the world and covid basically forced me initially into this, but I am pretty sure that I will continue to only race solo / virtual from now on. Oh, I’m still training and earning the occasional virtual run bling to help support causes close to my heart… but my goals and training is self tailored just for me, merely as a reason to keep myself moving, keep myself motivated, and keep getting myself up every morning to get those miles, muscles, and self sought challenges and goals met.

Over the last eight or nine days, I have slowly felt myself emerging from this current absolute black night of my depth and soul. I feel myself finally being able to look up, raise my head… just a little. I find myself finally able to extend my hand, just ever the slightest to those around me, those close to me, to look, to ask, to try and connect with how they are. And I am finding with everyone’s reply, everyone’s response – we are all in a collective hot mess right now. It’s not just me struggling just to get from one day to the next… it’s everyone. All of us.

I believe the entire world, country, community, town, neighborhood is being rocked to their very cores right now with everything going on in the world.

We are all a mess. We are all hurting. We are all lost. We are all struggling. And this brings out the best in some of us, and it brings out the absolutely worst in some of us. When you mix hot mess with a world full of sickness, and hatred, and fear, and utter ugly… it only makes everything that much worse, snowballing tenfold and quickly enfolding everyone and everything in the midst of its wild free-fall and destruction.

Honestly I think we are all hanging on by a tiny little thread. Many of us thought we were a mess before all this, before 2020 arrived. And now, most of us are just praying for the days when the pre-2020 mess was as bad as what it was.

We are living in a time and reality that no one has ever lived through before. Most feel they are navigating all of this blind, and feeling completely alone. I don’t think people are actually honestly admitting to this, but I just know I cannot be the only one laying on the very bottom of the dark hole I’m in, with my eyes squeezed shut tight, trying to just will away the lost and hurt and broken all around me.

At first, all this lost and alone was almost “novel” and I felt somewhat ok and justified in all the mayhem scouring within me. But then somewhere along the line this summer, everyone seemed to pick themselves back up and go on living, go back to normal. Back to no masks, no social distancing, no overall care or fear of general public safety. The schools started back in full person learning, and suddenly the little safe bubble within my home, was no longer safe. Even if I stayed home, if I wore the masks, if I did the social distancing, if I quarantined…. It no longer was enough. Because now my child was leaving and coming back into my safe bubble every day, and my safe bubble was no longer … my safe bubble.

The day school started it went from not “if” I will get covid, but “when.” And that was a really hard reality for me to come to terms with. Yes, I could have kept him at home, but I really didn’t feel like that was an option or choice. And I’m not writing this to bring up any controversy or access for anyone to come at with me any remarks or judgements. I’m simply stating what I am feeling. I’m not afraid of getting sick or of dying from covid. But you know what, I’ve worked ridiculously hard for my current state of physical health, and someone else being able to take that away from me, I find frustrating.

I don’t want to have anything hurled back at me involving politics, or sickness, or immunizations or anything derogatory. I am merely wanting to ask for, no…beg for, everyone to just choose to be kind. Choose to not spread the hate. Choose to do the next right thing, take the next high road, make the next wise choice.

We are all dealing with some form of mental messiness right now. Some are handling it better than others, some are hiding it better than others, but I am convinced… we are all in various states of hot mess right now, and I just desperately want us all to figure out how to try love better and hate less, how to try see better and ignore less, how to try listen better and assume less, how to try heal better and hurt less.

Oh I have so many things, and yet find myself at an utter loss to find the words to try say anything at all. I’m so far from perfect, and so at a loss as to what to even do next, that I am left here grappling with the reality at hand, and rendered basically mute and helpless.

My heart is aching, my soul is weary, my head is barely wanting to work. I want to remain closed off, shut off, shut down. I don’t want to see, or feel, or hear any more negativity and strife. I want to feel the sunshine and experience the warmth of love, hope, grace, and acceptance. I want health and happiness and simple, quiet peace. And really, why in the world has that become too much to ask for?

Oh come Lord Jesus, oh please come quickly.

Previous Blog Post { Doing Hard Things When You Don't Want To } HERE

Doing Hard Things When You're Not Ok

I’ve stared at this blank white page for the last five minutes, not wanting to write and not knowing what to write. I’m not in a good place right now, and while all emotions are high and easily accessible, the words aren’t.

And maybe they are, but I’m not allowing myself the ability to try to rationally think, feel, process, pick myself back up. And in all honestly, it’s not that I’m not just not allowing myself that, I am utterly incapable of it.

I don’t want to share, I don’t want to think, I don’t want to feel, I don’t want to people, I don’t want to process. I want to continue to pull far inside, hidden and shut down, completely and absolutely shut down. It’s all so real, so raw, so intense, so loud, so overwhelming, so visceral.

I feel I am only a small breath away from a full panic attack at any moment. And the only way I know how to survive at this moment is to do everything in my power to shut down, to flatline, to only allow today.

No yesterdays, no tomorrows – just the right here and the right now.

The insanity within me right now is very very real, and very very unstable. A week ago I unexpectedly reached a moment when #onemorething happened, and I didn’t have the capacity to process it. I was at absolute max capacity of all I was capable of dealing with rationally, all I was capable of holding within the palms of my mom hands, only I didn’t know it until I was thrown that next thing and there was just no more room.

No more rational, no more anything, except the insanity. Only the insanity within.

I couldn’t think, I couldn’t process, I couldn’t deal, I couldn’t comprehend, I couldn’t find a way to stop the inner demons all screaming and racing and banging all wild child inside me.

So I didn’t.

I finally pulled myself somewhat back together enough to know I must stop thinking, processing, dealing, comprehending all together for a while. Survival mode as my only option. Leave me the fuck alone mode. I retreated to the deep recesses of my inner manic self.

Breath in, breath out.
Breath in, breath out.

No social media, no selfies, no thinking, feeling, processing whenever possible. Numb, flatlined, disconnected as much as I can disconnect. I just can’t even.

And this is how I’ve sat for the last while. My inner voices either utterly still and dormant or so out-of-control and so loud I can’t even begin to describe its reality.

This weekend we said no lake, no #sunsetoclock. When the place you once sought refuge at, the place that healed and helped now holds pain, angst, and big emotions, it’s just not the same appeal and desire to go back.

This weekend, I took a deep breath and said yes to the hubs last minute plan to venture to the city a few hours away and go to the zoo. Just the three of us. They said masks were required and had strict guidelines on the number of people in the park.

I admit, I was very disappointed in their lack of mask enforcement and felt social distancing was not at all an option. There were running, climbing, touching children with every turn and step, and crowds and lines and people everywhere. And the people that chose to purposely defy the mask requirements, especially within the buildings – left me with rising anger and bitterness by the time we finally left. Hot, tired, hungry, disappointed, overwhelmed.

We then waited forty-five minutes outside before we could go in for our table at a restaurant that had an aloof waiter that was asking for a 28% tip on our bill. I am never one to under-tip, and totally realize the way of the world is different now with less tables to serve and higher risks to them, but I felt it a little pushy of an ask for me.

And then we put our masks on again and walked into a large retail sports store. The boys headed off together, and I found myself walking around getting to look at things, try things on, contemplate possible purchases… in person. This was the first time I had been out shopping in person since early March. This wasn’t an online, essentials only, from my home, buying experience. And I admit, it was really nice. I allowed myself to look, to want, to dream just a little. I bought a new puzzle for my son and I (for when I’m sure we’ll going to get shut down again for Covid 2.0 after schools continue to open up for in person learning) and a special gift for a friend that I didn’t know I needed to get until I saw it.

Yesterday, I woke up after turning my alarm off over four hours earlier, and told myself it was time to do something hard. It was time to get myself out of bed, get myself out there, and get some serious weekend running mileage in. It was time to put on a dress, drive over to our physical church building and make myself walk inside to get to be a part of a beautiful service ordaining my dear friend into the pastoralship of the church.

I sat there in the parking lot looking at the front doors. Doors I used to enter every day when I worked there as the facilities and communications manager. The doors I entered nearly every day of the entire life of our #faithmaryjo. So very many emotions lie on those very door handles allowing one to go from outside to inside within the matter of a few steps. The job, the responsibilities, the time, the friendships, the hardships, the meetings, the goodbyes, the hellos all still so alive and fresh immediately coursed through me as I reached out to pull open those doors.

This was the first time I have physically entered this building, these people, since February. I’ve watched online, and as I sat there in my car wiling my body to move, I also was well aware that I don’t even know where I am with God right now. I’m not filled with the anger that I’ve carried towards Him before, but I know we’re not in a great place together, He and I. He’s probably trying to call, to whisper, to pull me to Him and I am purposely not listening, not allowing Him (or anyone else) in right now.

Access to me is shut off right now for nearly one and all, including God. In time I assume this will again change, as it always seems to, but for now – I chalk my spiritual health right up there with my mental and physical health and it’s all under bright flashing neon lights screaming #htomessexpress.

But yesterday I made myself do hard things. I made myself finish the last day of the new workout program I had committed to. I made myself put on the running clothes and get through a #sevenmilesunday training day. I made myself open my eyes and see the nature around me, daring myself to identify seven specific beautiful things while out on that run. One of those, being an unexpected encounter with someone I work with, whom I haven’t seen in person since March. It completely and totally caught me off guard, and yet, it was so nice to see and connect, live in person – not just via my silent computer screen with its blinking cursor of moving letters.

I put on a dress and entered a public building that holds many many memories and emotions for me. And as I stood there in the lobby looking around, I found myself thinking to the crowds of people I had been around the previous day at the zoo, the restaurant, the store, two and a half hours away. There is a really big difference being brave and going out in public surrounded by total strangers, and then there is an entirely different being brave and going to a public place filled with faces you know, faces with names and stories and memories all woven together with your own.

I’m not ready to step back into the light. I’m not ready to fully feel and see and know. I’m not ready to dive back into social media and the news, the covid statistics, the presidential politics, all the things flinging hate and confusion and unrest into the world and my home.  I’m not ready to travel back to the lake. I’m not ready to allow myself to surface from this rock bottom low I’ve crashed into.

I’m not wanting to wallow, I’m not wanting pity, I’m not wanting advice on meds and therapists. I’m just not wanting to feel, to hurt, to process, to re-enter the noise and chaos and loss of control. I’m just allowing myself to be selfish and put myself first, knowing I need time to allow myself be failed and fallen and fully broken.

Failed and fallen and fully broken… and for some reason not in a rush to pick myself back up, to try put it all back together again in some perfect put together package that I know will never exist.

I am a mess, inside and out. A messier mess than my normal #hotmessexpress.  This is residing in me at a whole different level.  This is worse than what I experienced after finding out and coming to grips about Faith.

This is me, this is who I am, this is who God created me to be. Yes, I’m sure that He, and myself, know I’m capable of more, of far better and greater than the dirty heap I’m currently lying in, and in time I will (hopefully?) attempt to climb my way back up and come to terms with where I am and where I need to go spiritually, mentally and physically… but for now, for today, I will continue to hide, to pull away, pull inward and lie low in the dark, praying for quiet, stillness, relief around and within… begging for the demons to recede, to pull away and stop their incessant screaming and crying out in all their angst, emotions, and discontentment.

It’s ok to not be ok. And today, I am not ok. And I am simply ok with that. 

 

Previous Post { Inner Demons and Demands } HERE

Next Post { I've Stopped} HERE

Inner Demons and Demands

This photo has come to haunt me. It fills my heart with great joy, and enormous frustration all at the same time.

It is a screaming reality for all I have once been, and all that I am no longer.  It tells of a moment in time when I had completed my first full marathon less than a week prior, when the scale showed the exact number my mind wanted to see, the new clothes all still fit perfectly, and there was genuine happiness and contentment coursing through my veins.

I held strength, willpower, grit, and gratitude in the palm of my hand on that day.

This photo was taken exactly three years ago, at the base of Harney Peak, with my dad and brother, after we had just hiked to the top and back down together. At the top my dad asked us to make a promise that we would do this hike together again when he turned seventy.

He turned seventy in January. My brother and I had made plans to meet there again this summer to hike it with him. And then Covid-19 took the world by storm. All plans changed, all normalcy, rationality, mental and physical stability long gone. At least for me anyway.

I had fought through February 2020 like a warrior. I had trained hard, eaten well, hydrated perfectly, meditated, prayed, slept… and for a few short days… I was back to where I was on that day when I had stood on top of that mountain years earlier. I was lean and clean and healthy, both inside and out. It is a feeling I rarely feel, am never been able to keep (maintain), and have been on the hunt, the chase, the war path towards since before I was a teenager.

It’s that one thing that you think you most desperately want, but just can’t ever get there, and whenever you almost do… it just all slips away again, right before your eyes. And it’s that one thing that only you are in total control over, the one thing you cannot blame on anyone else, or on anything else.

This one is all yours baby. 
And for me, it’s just never been enough.

Some call it the chase to perfection, this never enough syndrome I’ve been blessed (or cursed) with nearly all my life. I’ve felt it, I’ve touched it, I’ve held it, all but briefly, yet it was enough to drive you to try be both your best self, and your worst self, all somehow rolled up into one beautifully ugly twist of dull and shiny, matte and sparkly, neutral and utter vibrancy.

And the sad reality seems to be that those brief moments when you do have it, when you are there – you don’t actually fully realize it within those actual live moments, not until you’re not there anymore does the fullness of what was, and is no more, fully plows itself headlong into you.

These last five months have been hard on me. I have fumbled and bumbled my way through the days, weeks, months. I have fallen, slid, clawed, cried, slept my way through many of the passing hours since the March 2020 calendar page was flipped up from that fantastic February. And now here we are, at the end of yet another month, soon to be flipping up that dreaded month of August.

Oh August. I can’t even. August is just so… hard, under “normal” circumstances.

How will I ever be able to navigate this hot mess express of myself into and back out of another August in this current state I’m in?!?!

I’m trying, oh but I am… it’s just that I’m failing it all so miserably right now. Failing all of it so much right now – all of me, all of life, all of the people… but mostly, all of myself.

I’m left standing in frustration, anger, denial, bitterness, sadness, grief, loneliness, guilt, dread… shall I continue? All those things that pull you away, push you down, slowly smother and strangle from inside out.

I realize that what we see and feel within ourselves, is not what the rest of the world sees from the outside, and it’s often not shared in its full color and honesty on the wide world of social media. The selfies, the smiles, the snippets into projected and proposed happiness and contentment are not exactly as they appear.

Sometimes I post and share, sometimes I hide and stay silent. I try live by the word and rule of full authenticity, but I’ve found, the outside world isn’t always so excited and welcoming of “authentic...”

And yes, sometimes, the beast of reality that is rearing inside our heads is also not quite as it seems – the reality we scream at ourselves inside, the standards and expectations we label and measure of ourselves inside… maybe aren’t always quite all that we hear them to be. Ok, let’s be honest, they are never quite all that we hear them to be.

Those inner demons and demands are what we see as our best friends, but are often disguised as our enemies. The voice of not enough, the whisper of defeat, the hiss of faltering disappointment. It holds up a tainted veil that keeps us from fully seeing, hearing, knowing our true selves and our fullest potential. We think it’s what’s trying to drive us forward, to bigger and better… and in a way, yes it is… but it’s also what’s holding us back, keeping us within and without. Within ourselves and without a clear and full view of the person God created us to be, in His image.

Time and again I hear this little voice inside my head reminding me I am a child of God, I was chosen and created exactly how and who I am, by His choosing, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of hurt, sadness, and disappointment it must bring Him as He hears how hard I am on myself, how I put myself down, and value so little of myself.

It’s such a juxtaposition this life we live isn’t it? Ups and downs, goods and bads, happy and sads… so many ebbs and flows continually eroding and eating away at the contentment, hope, and granted grace around us.

There has to be a happy meet-in-the-middle to all of this, right? What is my specific, common, middle ground where I can figure out how to stand with the tension of it all, equally distributed on both sides? Why does my heart and soul cry out with its all-or-nothing nightmarish mantra day after day on all of these days when I’m not “all there” “all in” “all one hundred percent on the money” with every little detail of my life?

And if I’m honest, an even bigger question I fear is… will I have time to find that sweet spot in the course of the next forty-nine days, when I will hopefully yet again find myself physically standing at the base of that mountain, with those same two people beside me, Lord willing.

Will the body, mind, and soul that I carry along with me up and back down the mountain that day be filled with the same strength, willpower, grit, and gratitude that I carried the last time I was there, or will it not?

And… will whatever it is be enough? 

Forty-nine days in front of me... and forty-five years of life behind me.  Forty-five years of life behind me, that is a lot of pounds gained and lost, that is a lot of food denied and demonized, that is a lot of sweat and burned calories from the pushed punishment I've consistently driven myself to. That is a lot of time spent at war within myself, about myself, for myself.

Aging has brought with it a whole new set of cards and rules, and the older I get, and the harder I fight the never ending battle against the imperfections of my body... the cellulite, the wrinkles, the grey hair (just to name a few), the more I am realizing that I need to make better friends with the me inside and somehow try love the me outside with a much softer relationship filled with more love and grace than I allow it now.

Somehow, somewhere, someway there has to be some place in the middle, in the spot between where I was then, and where I am now, where the war isn't as intense, the stakes aren't quite as high, and the satisfaction of a life well lived is much more prevalent. 

#giveyourselfsomegracegirl 
#giveyourselfsomegrace 
#lawdhavemercy 
#giveyourselfsomegracegirl 
#giveyourselfsomegrace

Previous Blog post { The Eve of the Lake, Spring 2020 } HERE

The Eve of the Lake, Spring 2020

There is a very good chance that tomorrow I will take my bag of clothes, my bag of running gear, and a bag of groceries and leave the house that I have been in quarantine in for the last seven weeks, and leave the city that I also haven't left in the last seven weeks, and venture to our second home away from home, to our camper, at the lake, in a different state none-the-less.

I'm almost not sure if I even remember how to properly drive, let alone have any idea how to properly interact, social distance, and function in a public setting.

I will take along my two current security blankets; my dog and my twelve year old son. My husband will not be coming this weekend because he has some other Covid-19 meat crisis business to take care of. Yup, we finally got some toilet paper this week and now there’s a meat shortage, and rumor of some sort of murder hornets. I can’t. I just cannot.

The lake has been our escape, our happy place, our place to rest and heal. Our place to interact and socialize. The lake is my place to rise early and run along the dark sides of the road as the sun slowly begins to evolve and bringing blackness into radiance. It's where I watch that same sun set over the water at the end of the day, as it travels through that same radiance and color back into the darkness of another night.

So many memories there, and it's always been a place I could not wait to return to every spring. The lists, the packing, the countdown of days. And yet ... this spring is different. Very different, and not just for me, but for the entire world.

The world has been in this crazy and completely shut down, yet running wild state of pandemic over a virus called Covid-19. There is so much going on, and not going on, that I honestly have not even allowed myself to really write about it (at least not yet). There are portions of my mind that I have just needed to shut down entirely in effort to just get from one day to the next. I am in a survival state and am fully aware that throughout all of this, my logical mind is not capible of wrapping itself around... itself. I really really want to logically process life right now, but I know that my brain is not able to actually fully process what it's trying and needing to. After about three weeks of losing my sanity every single day, I opened my hands and gave up trying to "understand" "process" "figure it out logically" - because I am not at a point where that is a possibility. And owning that personal reality, has given me some relief from the insanity within (“some” relief from, but not “all" ... i'm still one #hotmessexpress on the inside {and outside} but I'm trying to honestly give myself the grace needed to simply being ok with not being ok, with not understanding, with not knowing, and with not being able to keep my crap straight longer than about a four hour max period of time.)

I've thought about trying to blog my way through this, but simply came to the conclusion that I can't / shouldn't / couldn't / won't.  I decided to document all this thus far with photos and saving key memes every day … I’m simply uploading them into my cloud storage each night, and then deleting the majority of it all from my phone. Some day I will go back through all of "those" and “this” and look, and remember, and hopefully process this all more. But not right now, not now, not yet.

We went into isolation and it was cold and snowy out. As we look out the windows, we have slowly witnessed the seasons changing and we have left behind winter and said hello to spring. Outside the world is changing, as it always has since forever. The dirty piles of snow have melted and been replaced with radiant green lawns and trees budding with flowers and new growth. The farmers have plowed and are beginning to plant. And yet, we are all still inside. Inside the same houses, the same walls, the same people (or lack of people) and it’s causing even more heartache and confusion within our hearts and souls.

We long to evolve with the changes going on outside, we long for the normalcy of what a typical spring brings us, we long for something substantial, sustainable, stable, factual, and forward. But we are stuck in some bad dream of a groundhogs day existence day to day.

We don’t know what is right, and what is wrong. We don’t know what we should do, and what we shouldn’t. We don’t know if we need to stay in isolation, or just finally give it up and hope for the best. Who’s right, who’s wrong? Everyone is experiencing this through their own personal lens of reality and beliefs, and we have to work so hard on giving ourselves the grace we so desperately need, and then we need to also kindly extend that same grace to everyone around us. Not one or two, not some or a few… everyone.

Everyone needs to kindly extend grace equally to everyone right now. No hoarding. No hiding. No name calling or snarky online comments. No unkind words or deeds. And yes, I very much know that this is much harder to live out than it is to preach out.

Last week my husband went to the camper and opened it all up by himself. I was not ready, and I did not go. Granted, our son finally had oral surgery that day so I was more than happy to keep him and I home. But the hubs got everything set up and mixed and mingled with everyone else there.

He’s been leaving the house every day for work this entire time, as have many of our friends that we camp with. I have not. I have chosen to walk on the very far left side with my choices to isolate and not leave the house. So as he walked out the door last week to leave, he turned and asked me to start thinking and processing the fact that hopefully by next weekend I will have come to the mental capacity that I will be able to leave the house and go to the lake with him.

This week I have worked on mentally getting myself there. I’m not all the way there yet #lawdhavemercy no. But, I did start to do some packing.

The thought of packing the car and leaving without our precious Lily dog who passes away in January is so hard. The thought of having to maybe run outside again (maybe even in the dark) causes me unbelievable anxiety. “People-ing" again, letting my son “people" again… It’s all just reduclously emotional for me right now - on both sides of the spectrum. From excitement to fear. From happy too sad. From inside to outside. From alone to public.

Do I come out of the camper? Do I get off my deck? Do I wear my mask? Do I dare walk the dog or run outside?

Honestly, right now I don’t know the answer to any of those questions. And I’m not going to spend any more time thinking about them. I will think about how to pack myself, my son, and the dog to go away. I will think about getting in the car and driving out of town, getting on the highway, merging into oncoming traffic and preparing for the “Welcome to Minnesota” sign forty minutes down the road and the little "bump bump" of the tires on the road when crossing from one state into the next.

I will worry about getting out of the car once we get there. That will be tomorrow. I will deal with that hurtle tomorrow.

It’s one day at a time right now. One day at a time. Actually, as I’ve been replying back to everyone - it’s merely one hour at a time right now. One hour at a time is all I am able to feasibly handle right now. 

And with that said... I must say goodnight and go to bed.

{ Previous blog "The Gift We Were Give Five Years Ago" HERE }

The Gift We Were Given Five Years Ago

The world is in some strange, desperate, and scary times right now.

Much of the world is holed up in their homes as a pandemic virus spreads rampant from one continent to the next. It’s all that’s on the news, in the headlines, in our social media feeds, in our minds.

Many are working from home, attempting to school their kiddos from home, rationing their toilet paper and hand sanitizer and figuring out their “new normals,” whatever in the world that might be. Some have lost their jobs or are simply unable to go in to work right now. The economy is in absolute upheaval, and no one is quite sure what updates and changes will be coming to us as each hour and day passes.

Two and a half weeks ago my hubby and I made a last minute decision to head out of town for the weekend. We went many of the same places we went to five years prior; the drive, the hunting show, the covered bridge… And it was surreal to me how that five years felt like an odd mix of nearly a lifetime ago, and nearly yesterday, all at the same time.

Five years ago right now I was pregnant with a little girl, who we would find out had Trisomy 18 and would never get to come home with us. I’m sure this is devastating news for any parent… but at the age of forty, with nearly two decades of infertility behind me… I was beyond devastated with this unexpected “gift” God chose to “bless” us with.

Five years ago I was sick, really sick. I was basically on bed rest, living in a nightmare in which only a very very small handful of people were even aware of. How in the world do you tell the world that you are pregnant, at the age of 40, with a baby you knew from the very beginning was not actually going to become a living, breathing, addition to your lives and your family? Well I couldn’t, and we didn’t… we staggered and stumbled and blindly attempted to pull each other along during those hours, days, and months.

Five years ago I was in my house, not leaving unless absolutely required. Oddly similar to present day. Five years ago I was living in fear, uncertainty, desperation, depression, uncontrollable crazy. Again, oddly similar to present day.

And I’m not sure if that is making living and surviving within this current crisis easier, or harder.

The part of me that is getting sucked back into those hard and vivid memories are finding these days at home, away from others, listening to the crazy in my head, perhaps even more hard to continue to battle forward through. At times it’s all just almost too much for me, the overwhelm almost debilitating. But… there is also the part of me that remembers and actually feels God’s provision and strength and faithfulness through all of that five years ago, and that brings me some moments of comfort and peace.

I don’t know about everyone else, but I know right now I am on one hell of a rollercoaster ride. A ride that is barreling out of control and ricocheting off the four walls of this home I am imprisoned in.

Actually, I have to take that back, I do not feel at all imprisoned here. I am a very happy introvert that is more than ok with not having to leave my house. Granted this is not something I was expecting, and not something I’m at all in control of, but overall I am not overly bothered that I have basically not left my house for two weeks. I am however struggling with adding homeschooling on to my full time job, but… I am choosing to try see the blessing in it, choosing to do the best that I can in the unexpected gift of time we have all been handed right now.

And here I am… on the eve of that “day” yet once again … that day when everything stopped for just a few minutes. That day when everything fell apart, when all the stars did not align. That day when Heaven’s tears rained down and hell's gates seemed to swallow me whole.

That day when part of me died, but that day when the Lord also graciously allowed me to live.

I know we were given this journey for a reason. I know, for whatever reason, Faith MaryJo’s life was given to her only to be left as her legacy. And I know, that no matter how hard, or how sad, or how crappy it can all be some days… that this journey is honestly a gift, just not the gift we are used to getting all tied up with frilly bows and sparkly wrapping paper.

Over the passing of the last five years, I have come to know that this is the true kind of gift that was given for the sole purpose to keep on giving. This is the kind of gift that really isn’t a celebration, a party, a magical moment forever etched in time, but it is the gift that allows a very hard story to be told, to be shared, to also be forever etched in time, just like the name and date that is etched into her black granite tombstone on the other end of town.

It’s the gift that has allowed me to be able to see differently, feel differently, act differently, love differently. It has given me the eyes and heart to see and feel and know the need of the importance of entering in and walking alongside others, of allowing others to enter in and walk alongside me… of offering help and of receiving help.

And yes, as awesome and positive as all of this sounds, and in reality it “is”… this gift is also the membership to a club that I never asked to join. This was not my choice, this was not in my control, this was not the path I wanted my life to have to travel down. We can say all the right things, and put ourselves all back together on the outside, but of course the inner reality is…

It’s hard… it’s really, really hard.

And yet, for whatever reason, it is, in fact, the card we have been given, the path we were meant to journey. And if you believe in a Big God, in a Big Heaven, then at some point (or at least on most days) you have to attempt to give up the fight and simply open your hands and try openly give of the "blessings" from that which was taken away from you.

Granted some days are much easier than others. Some seasons and months are just harder than others. March is hard for me during a normal year, and especially hard this year. But here we are… time has continued to tick and tomorrow we will wake and we will both celebrate and grieve the birth day of our daughter, Faith MaryJo.

There will be smiles, there will be tears. There will be grief, there will be reflection, and there might be a few miles run in her memory (and maybe even be a little cake served in her honor). It will again be just us tomorrow, just our tiny little family, in this tiny little house, on this big big journey together. 

{ Previous Post What Day of the Week Is It? HERE }

What Day of the Week Is It?

I’ve been an introvert walking around in a bit of a daze this past week, processing all of this, all of the things, dipping between really low lows and, rising again to somewhat higher levels of “normalcy” while dealing with the moment-by-moment doses of fear and frustration, disappointment and distress, calmness and angst.

It seems there is just so much extreme going on inside me. It’s far to the left, or far to the right, and the going back and forth between the two is like riding on those rides, or going over those intersections when your stomach falls out because the drip or lift is faster than the body can reasonably absorb.

Back and forth. Up and down. Absolutely all over the place.

I, a very happy introvert, personally have no problems what-so-ever not leaving my house. I do however have mixed emotions over the hubs who is still going out and working every day. On one side I’m so grateful he’s still able to work, able to provide income and stability amid these financial fears, but he is still going out, and I feel he does not take the brevity of this seriously enough. He is a two-man, self-employed construction company, so I believe he is able to work with under ten people, but he seems a little unaware as to what is going on inside this house while he’s gone, and entirely oblivious to the overall global situation. I admit I am feeling unseen, unappreciated, and becoming bitter for what I feel I am all doing right now inside the walls of this house. Granted this is probably simply all my own issues inside my own selfish mind, but it is the truth for me in what I am feeling, especially as I feel I am almost ridiculed when asking him to simply wash his hands good when he returns from work at the end of the day. There hasn’t been a thank you, an acknowledgment to what I am all attempting to do and keep afloat right now. I’m working full time, trying to still get all the bills paid, all the life details covered, add on homeschooling and intentionally trying to be what everyone needs from me right now. I’m drowning with all the things, all the unknowns, all the overloads, all the stresses… without a thank you, without a how are you doing, without a what can I do to help.  Now of course on the flip side, I'm sure there's the same argument from him that I'm also not seeing him, thanking him, helping him during his time of stress either.  As they say, these are those moments that make us or break us, and I know I need to somehow figure out how to get past it all.  I'm fairly certain we are not the only couple in this situation right now.

But I have friends who are required to still go into work at their hospital and production jobs, who are fully dependent on their incomes, who don’t have a work from home option, who can continue working only as long as they are not exposed and need to self quarantine. I have friends who are high risk and cannot risk getting sick.  We have all of us at home staying in, trying to not spread anything more, and we have those who must go out, who are desperately needing us to stay home as to not spread and infect. 

I have friends in healthcare, on the front lines, wishing to be home with their families but aren’t able to, because they are needed to stay to help care for the sick, and prepare for the masses still to come.

I have a brother who is a chiropractor in KY and was forced by the state to close his practice yesterday by 5:00pm. Their income, their patients… all suddenly just cut off.

And yet… as I scroll through social media, as I look out my window to the road and all the passing cars, I see so many are still out and about, still shopping, still eating out, still socializing. Personally, I just don’t get it. Our single job as a country right now is basically to stay home and watch TV - and by God, we can’t even get that right.

Yesterday I was thinking about to how I used to be a full time cake decorator from home, and this season we’re going into was always huge for me, my whole year would hinge on the extra income and hours I would put in during Easter, Mother’s Day, graduation, and spring and summer weddings. While there are days I do miss being my own boss, I find myself just breathing in a huge breath of gratefulness as I reflected on it. Times are scary right now, futures unknown, and I know this would have been unbelievably hard on my business and our tight income. I’m grateful for that whisper from God to apply for the church job seven years ago and slowly transition back into the work world, and then grateful again for that whisper two years ago to apply for the art admin job I’m currently in. I am grateful to myself for finally allowing myself to hear, to actually listen, and daring to step forward obediently when I heard those whispers along the way of my career journey. God was paving this path for me long ago, He simply was asking me to listen and faithfully obey.

And that church job … yeah, I don’t know how many times I have breathed the thoughts of how grateful I am that I am not working at the church right now. Oh yes, I loved my time there and have no doubt it was exactly where I was supposed to be at the exact time that God had me there, but boy am I also grateful that there was another whisper allowing me to move on to my current job, even if it does leave me as low man on the totem pole and ultimately the first one that will be let go if it comes to that.  I have peace right now knowing I am where I am supposed to be, whatever may happen.

I am so grateful for Staples and the way they are allowing us to work from home and be with our families and supporting us fully right now. Although, like everything else, this is a two sided emotion as well. One side of our business can’t keep up as they try to supply and fulfill much needed orders for medical supplies, hand sanitizers, paper products to both the general population and more importantly, to those on the front lines in dire need of the product. On the flip side is my side of the business, the promotional side that provides product for companies for their large events, events that are now being canceled, and product coming from oversees to be decorated that are not arriving in time to meet the in hands dates of those orders that haven’t been canceled, and now asking our production facilities to continue to go in to work during these times the rest of the world is all being asked to stay home.

I've thinking about my running and working out, also two extremes within me right now. I had a great workout routine and rocked through February with twenty-nine days of perfect nutrition, water and workouts. And then came March with a birthday, an anniversary, followed immediately by all of this and #lawdhavemercy I am an emotional eating mess right now. Thank the Lord that food is my addition and not anything else. While I’m disappointed and frustrated with myself right now, I am also beyond grateful to be part of a great tribe of online #wonderwomen who are for sure digging in deep together right now. We’re all struggling to find our footing, find our mindsets, find our direction. I love and appreciate their honesty, support, and encouragement right now. I am so grateful for the home workouts I can continue without any worry of public gyms with their people and closings.

While I’m all about a great virtual race and do a lot of them, there is something about signing up and planning to join thousands of others, corralled shoulder to shoulder at a starting line and running within the masses for miles and miles in the fresh air outside at a large in-person race. The virtual race options in my emails have tripled over the last week, while three large races I was signed up for this spring have already canceled, and I’m expecting at least two more will also cancel. So I message my friends who were going along, call the hotels, and the massage places, and with tears I am canceling our reservations for those weekends. I feel horrible having to call and cancel, knowing they are hurting so much from this as well. The large chain hotels sitting empty, the small massage businesses also sitting empty - everyones full schedules suddenly sitting wide open. The tears are maybe a little from my own disappointment, but mostly just in utter dismay at the overall hit all of this is taking on the economy.

I have always loved and been grateful for the gym I have built over the years in my basement. I am one who really does like to treadmill and workout inside over the winter, but now without any spring outdoor races forcing me back outside, driving me to beat my feet back on the concrete, back out in the cold wind, I find I’m torn between wanting to just continue forward getting up every morning and going on with my training and working out as I have been… with the other side of me thinking, what the hell do I need to get up early for - everything is getting canceled, no on cares, no one is going to see me for another month… stay in bed, numb your fear and disappointment with sleep and social media scrolling.  Make the bars and cookies and high carb deliciousnesses, and then eat it all, who the F cares. Who the F even cares.

We live with a high needs eleven year old who is amazing and great, but one that we have struggled with since day one. I know we aren’t supposed to actually admit these things out loud, but it’s the truth. We’ve dealt with a lot over the last eleven years, grief and loss, reactive attachment, ADHD, physical (but invisible to the eye) brain damage, meds, doctors, specialists, eating issues, therapy, testing, anger, rage, school issues, behavior issues, etc, etc. The thought of being home 24/7 for four straight weeks is a definite stress point within me, I cannot lie.

And yet, week one was very surprising to me. The child who spats “you’re the worst mom ever” nearly every day, has not ventured farther than about three feet from me all week, by his choice, not mine. I know the stakes are super high right now, and I have done everything possible to do this “right.” I of course realize there is no “right or wrong” - there is only “right now” in this present moment. There is only what “right thing” do I need to do for him “right now”.

He has been a trooper and doing great so far. He has stuck close by and I have made sure to support and listen and encourage and remain positive. Not sugar coat, but also not get sucked into the gloom and doom either, which has been hard. I know I need to be more intentional than ever, I know I need to think ahead, stay a step ahead, now more than ever. I know I need to roll with whatever comes my way - I need to stay calm, cool, collected, supportive, positive, happy, fully engaged. I need to be the mom who’s safe, the friend who’s fun, the solid rock standing strong amid this storm of life raging all around. I realize this whole honeymoon phase will probably end, but until then, I am simply beyond grateful for this time together.

The social media world is out of control right now. I’m not sure how long to be on, how long to be off, how much to share, how much to not share. Do I keep posting my Today’s Mug selfies … my workout / running #gettnRdone selfies, my “working hard” and “momming hard” selfies… Will I post too much, too little, and who even cares on a normal day, let alone now?!?!

Overall this first week I have tried to limit my time scrolling, I know I’m still online more than I should be (and Lord knows need to be), but when my heart starts racing in my chest, when my mind starts zooming around here and there and everywhere, when the comments and posts are getting too out of hand, too negative, too frightening, I know I need to shut it down and walk away. Do my work, pour into my kiddo, check the state of my own soul. I have turned my phone ringer off when I’m not logged in for work. I pick it up regularly and check messages, but I’m not allowing myself to hear every social media comment, and like, and interaction. I’m not listening for every text and email filling my inbox, at least not until it’s a time of my choosing. For now I am still getting up early and working out.  I am still doing my hair and makeup, putting on regular work / weekend clothes and of course earrings.  I didn't watch any tv before, and haven't given in to starting to now. Again, I realize this whole honeymoon phase may come to an abrupt end, and even the happiest of introverts might still reach her breaking point of sanity.

So, basically, yup, I’m a hot mess. Story of my ever lovin' life. But hey, we all are a hot mess right now. I’m fully caught in the middle of this immensely swinging pendulum of craziness and world terror. I’m personally more than fine being home all day every day, and yet the added responsibilities and currently reality is also almost more than I can bare. Watching my son close his school laptop after a zoom call with his teacher and class as starting to cry because he misses school and his friends, is ripping my heart in half.  I’m a mix of completely calm, just in my element and completely settling in, and that of a runaway freight train inside my mind. The emotions mixed between all that I’m doing and dealing with inside the four walls of my own house, with my own family, and that of the rest of the world, many whom are choosing not to follow the current social distancing requests by the government, is just one big rollercoaster of allover emotions, thoughts, and feelings.

I’m not personally afraid of getting sick. I’m relatively healthy right now and that doesn’t overly worry me. But, I do not want to have any part of spreading it to anyone else, especially the elderly, the sick, the littles, the entire healthcare profession, all those dependent on getting to go to their jobs and not having to end up self quarantine because someones daughters friend that was at your house for supper twelve days ago has a mother who has now been tested positive.

Yeah, all the memes are funny, and so many are so true… but right now I just really want to do this right. I want to do my part in not spreading the physical illness of this pandemic, but I also want to do my part in not spreading the mental negativity, panic, and hatred that is also such a huge part of this pandemic.

I want to take this time at home and love my family well, love myself well, figure out how to make these moments now be positive and healthy memories in the future. As someone said that I loved - in seven years from now when facebook memories pops up with some of these photos and posts we are all currently posting, what kind of memories and feelings is that going to bring back for you? I don’t want to scar my children, my family, my friends, my society with a negative outlook and lack of willingness to do the right thing by staying isolated even when it’s not ideal, and in reality, really hard.

I want this to somehow make me stronger, make my family stronger, make my faith stronger, make all my relationships stronger than what they were last week when I was still ignorantly taking life for granted.

Five years ago right now I was sick, pregnant, on bedrest, and had no idea what the next day was going to bring me.  I was carrying a daughter who had Trisomy 18 and would die before we would ever get to bring her home. My life was a mess, everything was so hard to process, and the future was beyond unknown. I was scared to death I was going to die during childbirth (as I almost had sixteen years early during a miscarriage hemorrhage) and I had no idea how to plan anything going forward because it was all just … unknown. It’s been hard for me living through the months of November through March every year since as I go back in time and remember all of those emotions, those fears, that sadness.

And yet here I am back in my house, filled with so many fears and unknowns and no way of knowing what to think or plan for the days and months ahead of us. Part of me finds utter peace and calmness now as I think back and know that God was there all along for us five years ago, knowing He will be there again now, without a doubt. But I think it also compounds my memories and aches and deep heartache even more this year as our current reality is again mirroring, in a way, all that we walked through five years ago.

Next week Friday will be the five year anniversary of the birth date of our dear Faith MaryJo. I had asked to work from home that day (as I had last year) as the thought of having to “people” was overwhelming to me… and I guess that request has been more than granted. I will get to go through all of the next few weeks without having to “people.” I know it’s going to be a lot to process and go through again, but I am grateful that I do carry the insight of the “afterwards” as well to help remind me of God's faithfulness, His goodness amid the sorrow, and His hope amid the calamity.

How do we find the needed grace for ourselves, for our families, for our jobs, for our society all around us amid the also needed stamina to continue forwards boldly and strongly in this time of unknown and fear? How do we stay home, stay strong, stay committed to all the things, while also giving away the control of many more things than we ever thought we’d have to?  How do we get the message across the importance for everyone to follow the social distancing request we are all in right now? 

We need to stay home, be smart, and love others well in this time of upheaval. The sooner everyone starts to comply, the sooner hopefully all of this will be over. For the ones sitting in our homes doing all the things, it’s getting a little hard, a little emotional, a little frustrating watching all of those who aren’t.

Don’t spread the hate, don’t shout the gloom and doom, and don’t hoard all the groceries and necessities.  Share, share, share and simply trust God’s provision, and believe in the goodness of others who will share with you if Heaven forbid we do run out of something we “need.”

Please … stop going out if you absolutely do not need to. Whether you think this is all just silly and stupid or whatever, just suck it up and do it. Honor and respect all of us who are following the requests and guidelines, do your part in helping lower the curve of spreading this physical and mental illness. Think beyond yourselves and think about the elderly, the young, the pregnant, the immune compromised, the ones that are due to get much more sick and possibly die if they were to catch this virus. Just because you’re healthy and not worried about getting sick, this isn’t really about you right now.

And yes, I realize staying home doesn’t mean going out to eat or going shopping, and trying not to be hypocritical here, please, if at all possible try find a way to also help support your local small businesses that are trying to offer alternate ways to still safely provide their food and their product and their services to you.

This is the current reality for all of us. All of us.
Let me repeat one more time… all of us.

Take full advantage of this "as such a time as this" moment that we will hopefully never ever have to be granted again.

Please choose to love well, so we can all live long.

Previous Blog Post { Heartbeats and Heaviness} HERE

Heartbeats and Heaviness

It’s been another season of babies around me. So many announcements. So many births.  So many bellies. And… so many dealing with the loss of their little miracles. I thought I had been doing ok. I thought I had my wall built up high and strong. I thought I had my chin set firm and my smile painted on with an extra sparkle.

I think I thought wrong.

Last week was the five year mark of that blessed horrific day when I first saw her little body, first heard and saw that miraculous heartbeat flashing up on that dark screen. The utter shock, the total awe. The emotional rollercoaster ride of our Journey to Faith officially left the gates in that moment. We were barely strapped in, surely not prepared for the hardest, scariest, longest ride of our lives that we have been forced to go through.

Every time I think the ride is finally maybe slowing down, maybe going to actually stop long enough to let us disembark… it just veers us hard to the left, and that safe, solid, quiet platform again becomes a blur in the far off distance. Back to the twists and turns and a few more ups and downs.

Five years ago right now I was carrying life within me. Life filled with sickness, life filled with imperfection, but a life with her own beautiful heartbeat. A heartbeat I had been waiting for nearly two decades to hear. A heartbeat that I would be devastated to no longer hear only a few short months later.

During this “month of love” I’m supposed to be working on intentionally “loving myself” better. Love my body, love my mind, love my talents, love my gifts, love my blessings “better”. You know – love this body that has refused to look the way I’ve wanted it to my entire life, the body that has denied creating life for so many years, the body that has created and then had the audacity to take back not once, but twice. I’ve spent nearly my entire life unhappy, angry, intentionally (and unintentionally) trying to punish this body for all that it never was, all it never gave me, all it took from me, all it refused to become.

This is the view and reality I’ve just carried within me all my life. Why it’s so hard to accept who I am for “who I am” is really beyond me. Why is it so hard to just look at all the good, all the positives, all the greatness and gifts I have been given, and simply accept it with a confident, content smile? God created me for me, on purpose, no one else with my same footprint anywhere else. The humbling reality I’ve been stumbling over and over again recently … these thoughts and perceived realities of mine are probably breaking God’s heart. Which only compounds the guilt, the confusion, the anxiety of it all. (Yea I know, another blog, another time. wink)

This morning my body was weary, my heart heavy and hurting, my mind at war with itself to just get up and keep moving forward, one foot at a time, one moment at a time… I went through the morning motions. The alarm clock, the miles and muscles, the shower, the getting ready, the brushing my teeth, the putting on of my jewelry…

As I pulled out a bracelet to wear, one I wear multiple times a week (“Run the Mile You’re In” in little square letter beads surrounded by decorative black and gold round beads), it caught on another bracelet, and then another as I pulled up.

I was left looking down at this tiny little baby bracelet resting at the very bottom. Another little bracelet with white letter beads and a few round decorative beads.

The beads were light blue and the letters spelled Bailey Goebel. The baby bracelet from the hospital that was strung and put on his newborn wrist nearly twenty-three years ago at the hospital. The only baby bracelet I have.

Twelve years ago this week we got the call from the adoption agency that we had been chosen by a birthmom. Twelve years ago right now his little heartbeat was strong and growing inside the womb of another woman. I would take her baby home, she would take his hospital bracelet home.

Five years ago Faith’s little heartbeat was weak, and her sickness causing sickness within my body. We would never get to take her home, nor did they give us a hospital bracelet for us to take home.

But as I slowly reached down and touched that little bracelet, I was struck with the memory that twenty-three years ago there had another little heartbeat strong and growing inside me. The heartbeat of my firstborn son, who now stands six feet five inches tall and has been growing into one of the most amazing, gracious, giving, loving men I know. There are many days I feel I hardly deserve to have him get to call me “mom” but boy I sure do love that he does!

Gosh, twenty-three years ago… it was a lifetime ago, a whole different world ago. A different marriage, a different husband, a different house, a different set of family and in-laws, and an entirely different decade in my own state of intelligence, processing, worldly knowledge, and reality. I had no idea the road that was ahead of me, I had no idea that I should have relished those blessed days so much more than I did.

I was young, naïve, and so sure of a future I could control.

But I am not in control, #lawdhavemercy no. All of it, none of it… out of my control. It’s been a hard pill to swallow.

I remained still, possibly even holding my breath, as I held that precious little bracelet in my hand this morning, and I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes, I could feel the tightening in my throat, nearly burning me. I felt the hot, fat tears start to fall down my cheeks, settling in under my chin. I first brushed them away in annoyed angst, but they just continued to pool, and soon I found myself sliding down the cool vanity, my hand clutching those precious little beads, my head resting on the hands that were resting on my bent knees.

I cried for all I currently have, all I’ve lost, all I’ve wanted, all I’ve messed up, all I’ve done right. I cried for all my babies heartbeats and the stories and journeys of each one of them. Two heartbeats still beating strong here on earth beside me, two heartbeats inside their heavenly angel bodies.

I cried for the heartbeat created in a different marriage that would endure through a divorce and split family journey. I cried for the heartbeat that was handed to me that wasn’t even mine, that same heartbeat that went home with me but not with her, a whole other kind of grief and loss we have all gone through on our adoption journey. I cried for the lost futures, the many what ifs and never-got-to-be’s for those heartbeats that stopped too soon due to a miscarriage twenty-one years ago and a stillbirth five years ago.

I cried for this one bracelet I have, and for the three bracelets I never got. All the emotions are so big, so robust, so hard again right now. The joys, the regrets, the pride, the devastation. The mix of celebration over all these new lives coming into this world, amid the utter grief alongside all those who have also said their goodbyes to their babies far too soon.

Some days I can weather it all well, some days it’s nearly too much.  Today, it's all nearly too much.

Today I am tired. I am bitter. I am sad. My eyes are burning. My heart is aching. My emotions are all over the place. Basically, I’m my typical #hotmessexpress. Tiz the season I guess. In the past I have dubbed this season as "My Ugly."  It’s been a while since I've tripped and fallen hard, so I’m not all that surprised all the emotions have come again to pay me a visit and stay for a while.

Today, I allow my guard down and let this oh too familiar ache fill me and let the tears again fall. Today, I succumb to this complexity of emotions I can’t quite seem to stay ahead of or keep in check. Today, I feel all the feels and whisper that "It's ok to not be ok" mantra over and over again, willing myself to believe, willing myself to fully feel, fully accept, fully live in this pain in the right here and right now, in hopes that the sooner it's out the sooner this little visiter will decide to quietly slip away again in the quiet of the night.

But until that new dawn again begins to rise, I will not apologize, I will not numb, I will not wish it away.  I will sit with it, learn from it, live from within it, and hopefully love ever greater because of it.

Previous blog { Keep the Focus in 2020 } HERE

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