Happy New Year from The Crane's (2021 Year in Review)

To send a Christmas card… to not send a Christmas card…
To blog a Christmas card… to not blog a Christmas card…

I have been going back and forth for a long time, and basically it came down to lack of time and expenses (stamps and printed cards aren’t cheap, sorry friends), and I ended up not getting either option done.

And this was the one year we actually had all the amazing photos to choose from, and all the fun things to share about! So, five days before Christmas I told myself I would order New Year’s Cards and mail them all out at the beginning of the year… but also thinking perhaps ordering Valentine’s Day Cards instead, knowing the trajectory of everything right now.

But here we are… several days post Christmas and suddenly I find myself attempting to write a Christmas Blog post after all. It will be a surprise to all (myself included at this point) to see if this turns into a printed letter in the mail or a published letter on the internet… and will it be Christmas / New Year’s / Valentine’s? Oh the suspense is killing me right now. Lol.

2021 - It was another crazy year here.

Crazy crazy, crazy busy, crazy hard, crazy good. Luckily there was a really heavy layer of the crazy good covering up most of the other crazy pretty well.

I managed to survive a pretty intense virtual race challenge in mid January and would end up dealing with a pretty serious back injury after a week after it, which would take me a good four+ months to recover from. I still have to be really careful what I do, and need to listen better to my body when I need to slow down and rest a bit.

It was a winter full of snow and wedding planning (while either flat on my back in bed or braced up tight in a back brace). I got asked to help make flowers, and cakes, and cut out invites and programs… just to name a few of the fun things!! And, because planning a wedding wasn’t enough to keep them busy, Bailey and Coby also bought an acreage and completely remodeled the entire main floor of an old farmhouse, and set up Bailey’s salvage business on the back side of the property near Germantown, IA. All their families came together to help tear down, tear out, clear out, rebuild, and get things moved and settled. They officially moved in when they returned from their honeymoon in June.

Coby also graduated from college as an RN and began working full time at the Sheldon Hospital during that time as well!

In March Brian and I (and Piper) enjoyed a quick overnight getaway touring the covered bridges and wineries of Winterset, IA, as we celebrated our anniversary by going back to where we had gotten engaged 17 years ago.

In the spring we had lots of bridal showers, and we were busy back at the Round Lake campground. We got to move our camper to a new spot this summer, one with the most amazing sunset views and lots of new neighbors and friends. It took us several weeks to get everything all moved and settled, and we could not have been happier to finally kick up our feet and watch the summer slip by from our aqua Adirondack chairs behind our camper!

In June the big wedding day finally arrived. It was beautiful and so fun! Words can’t even begin to describe it all. We smiled, we laughed, we cried, we ate, we danced, we loved and celebrated the entire day away!

The Canada border remained closed for another summer, so Brian and Isaiah weren’t able to get their trip in, yet again. They did still spend some time off together with their friends at the lake in our camper fishing and making some new memories.

In the fall Isaiah started 8th grade, his last year at the Middle School. He decided to try Cross Country and absolutely loved it. He did really well and enjoyed the motivation and fellowship of the great coaches and teammates. They continue to meet and run together regularly during Run Club.

The fall also brought me a much needed (and long awaited for) new-to-me vehicle, and my first ever car payment… all the good with all the bad. But it was very needed, and the cake-mobile I am now enjoying is a 2012 grey Ford Escape, and I’m trying to figure out how in the world I survived the first 46 years of my life without having had heated seats and a sunroof.

The fall also brought exciting news from the newlyweds… who announced they are unexpectedly expecting… and could not be more excited! It’s been a bit of a rough start for them with much sickness, but we are all eagerly awaiting the arrival of Baby Goebel in early June (perhaps even on the same day as their anniversary!) To say we are excited to get to soon earn the names of Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle is an understatement. We pray diligently and daily for health and God’s provision over this precious little one and its parents!

My parents celebrated their 50th anniversary in June with a large celebration the day after Bailey and Coby’s wedding. And then over Thanksgiving the entire Oldenkamp Clan and Fam packed their tiny carryon suitcases, drove to SD at 2am, to fly out to NC, to rent a suburban, and drive to SC to pick up my brother and family (who moved to SC last summer and started a new Chiropractic business) on our way to Myrtle Beach. It was a whirlwind of miles and laughter and precious moments and memories made together as we celebrated Brian’s birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving, my parents 50th Anniversary, and my nephews birthday (yes, in that order). Oh, and we must not forget to mention several very intense games of live, in the dark, Mafia, in my brothers two story house!

Brian is still using his carpentry talents to create and install beautiful bathrooms, kitchens, custom built-ins, closet systems, shelves, and so much more with Century Cabinets. He still loves fishing (both on soft and frozen water) and hunting. He is busy creating something delicious on the grill and smoker whenever possible, and there is always cheering for the Hawkeyes going on.

Isaiah is still busy with legos, puzzles, Xbox, random fact researching, and the building and taking apart of anything and everything. He plays the baritone in school and made it into the MS Northwest Iowa Honor Band, as well as performing in the local Tuba Christmas concert. We can’t keep up keeping him in pants and shoes that fit due to his never ending growth. He is officially taller than me (by several inches now) and he makes sure to remind me of that whenever possible. He is looking forward to getting back into wresting after Christmas break, and he and I have plans (Lord willing and non-covid granting) to go on the Washington DC middle school trip in the spring.

I am still reading, taking photos, scrapbooking, running, writing, drinking coffee, baking at Sara Crane Cakes part time, art-admin’ing at Staples Promo Products full time, and working several early weekend shifts in the Staples Warehouse.

Piper Joy is still very well loved and very spoiled as she sleeps all day in the sun and gets to travel along with us on nearly all of our adventures. The highlights of her day are getting to manically greet the mailman and any UPS / FedEx deliveries (and I can guarantee that she is much more excited to see them they are are of seeing and hearing her ~LOL) Isaiah also added a new furry friend to the family this year… a white and tan bunny named Muffin. We have been on a specific puppy adoption waiting list for going on two years now for our next family addition, but this year’s litter was again not in our placement destiny… so we will have to see what next year brings.

So, yes it has been a full and busy 2021 for us!

Lots of big things, lots of new things, lots of fun and exciting things, and lots and lots of blessings amid a tough and trying time for the entire world. We are thankful and grateful the Lord was gracious and giving to us all this year, and we look forward to many opportunities, known and unknown, as we soon enter 2022.

Sending big hugs and high fives from our home and family to you and yours!

Merry Christmas – and Happy New Year!!
From the Brian & Sara Crane

Previous blog post { Run Like the Wind Bullseye Challenge } HERE

Next Blog Post { This Little Box of Tissues } HERE

Run Like the Wind Bullseye Challenge

A few Monday’s ago I got up really early (earlier than my normal early) and pushed myself through a self created virtual challenge that I had set for myself months earlier. It was a day off work, but I had several doctor appointments, so I just had to get up early and get it done.

I coined the phrase/ slogan/ tagline/ hashtag (whatever you want to call it) Run Like The Wind Bullseye years and years ago… when I first began my feeble attempt at running. At that time we had a little one in the house that was obsessed with Toy Story, and somehow or other I just started using it in my few and far between social media running related posts.

That brief background being said, fast forward a few years, and I have found myself still attempting to run, and still using #runlikethewindbullseye in my social media posts.

Random tiny story to insert here as well… One of my fondest memories of this phrase was the cold Sunday I was lined up, and corralled in (literally) in downtown DesMoines, IA with thousands and thousands of other runners all standing shoulder to shoulder for blocks upon blocks (yes, most definitely pre-covid!) and a few minutes before the gun would shoot and start the race, I got a text message from my mom with the words – Run like the wind bullseye! It’s one of those things that almost made me cry and will just always be one of those exact memory moments in my mind.

I’ve done a few large in person races in the past. I don’t consider myself an actual runner if I’m honest, and I am one that gets claustrophobic in large groups of people. But there is something about the energy, the thrill, the adenine rush of a live in person race that I did absolutely love…. As time went on and my age got older, my time got slower, and I started running more with friends that did not geographically live near me – I began to also fall in love with virtual races. And the cool thing about virtual races, was that I started to let myself just get creative with them. When I did them, how I trained for them, the distance I did for them, the race day outfits I wore for them, and the swag I earned for them. And then covid swept the world and left any kind of public group running venue shut down until further notice.

So while the world all went inside their homes by themselves, I kinda just kept on keep’n on with my running and my training and my little virtual race ventures in my little home gym I’d been slowly building over the years. (Nope, I am not one for public working out! But, you will find me nearly every morning by myself downstairs getting it done, or attempting to get it done anyway.)

I usually don’t do anything small scale. I usually have to try figure out how to kick it all up a few notches, a few extra miles, a few extra goals, a few extra of everything. And I love love love the creative hunt of putting them all together. The theme, the race details, the training details, the outfits, the mugs, the medals, the race bibs…

I’ve put together quite a few pretty amazing challenges, though I haven’t posted about all of them. Below are just a few I found, if you’re interested

Dream Big Princess Challenge

Unexpected Blessings - Stay Strong
Road to 46 Grit 300 Challenge
Endurance Outside the Box (While Inside the House)
Do It Scared
Not Quite As Planned

So this year I suffered a pretty major back injury, and a continued pandemic, and a son’s wedding, and a parents 50th anniversary and a whole lot of other biggish things that bundled all together that started to take it’s toll on me. Not all things were “bad” by any means – just all things leaving me a bit “weary” let’s say.

I am also one that I am always training for something big, usually with a few littler things mixed in to keep me going, but always always always I make sure I’m training for something – usually in 12 week increments, as that is my favorite half marathon training schedule to follow.

And this fall I decided it was time to create an official Run Like The Wind Bullseye Challenge.

I formatted the whole challenge similar to my Sugar Skull Challenge that I did last October 31 (2020). I did it as a tri-challenge (miles on my elliptical, treadmill, and bike – a total distance without stopping the stopwatch between any of it.). The training also included some weight training goals, monthly overall milage goals, weight loss goals, specific milage marker goals as I went through the training, etc etc etc.

I set all the goals for this new challenge, and added even more things on. Daily meditation requirements, an entire beachbody program requirement (MBF), just all the things. I found the perfect race shirt on ebay, I created the perfect medal from an ornament from poshmark, I allowed myself to order the new zyia leggings to earn to wear on race day, but I never made work really of designing and ordering a mug. (And a mug is something quite pivotal in all my challenges – I allow myself to earn a perfect mug that goes with that race/challenge theme.)

The twelve week training began and continued to tick by week by week. And I was slowly starting to fall behind in my workouts, in my mileages, in my training goal markers. And that weight loss goal I had set – well that was going up and not down. I kept getting further and further away from that goal and more and more frustrated and upset with myself.

The race day was set for the Saturday before we were to jet off as a family to South Carolina to celebrate with my parents and brother’s family for Thanksgiving / Christmas / my parents 50th Anniversary. I was getting overwhelmed by the details of the trip, I was continuing to gain weight, and I was now also working extra hours on Saturday mornings at my job. And I still had made no work of finding a mug.

I finally hit a bit of a breaking point where I knew I had to make a decision. Do I change the race day or do I just try figure something crazy out to still try make it happen?

In the end, after many conversations with the people that attempt to understand how the crazy in my brain operates and attempt to talk me off the ledge… I decided that I needed to extend the training a few more weeks, I needed to design and order a custom mug, and I needed to probably be ok that I simply was not going to meet every single goal I set within this training schedule.

So I looked at the calendar and picked a Monday that I knew was going to still be super tight to try squeeze it all in. Monday, December 13… because 13 happens to be my favorite number.

And that Sunday, the day before, arrived. And I hadn’t met all the mileage goals, was nowhere near the weight goal I’d set, hadn’t even started day one of the beachbody MBF program I put in the training requirements to complete… and I felt like a failure before I had even started the actual race day challenge.

I went to bed. I got up.

I wore the new leggings and shirt and I got myself through 20.6 total miles in 2:54:44. 6.2 miles elliptical. 6.2 miles treadmill. 6.2 miles bike. 2 miles rowing. I had set up all the Toy Story toys we had to be my audience (Woodie, Buzz, Jessie, Slink, Mr Potato Head, Rex… and no, I don’t even own the Bullseye toy oddly enough) I watched the entire Toy Story 2 and 3 movies… and I somehow got it all done. I so wanted to quit multiple times, but I just kept pushing myself, willing my legs to keep going.

I somehow actually got through it all and climbed off the last machine. I took some selfies, and then I went upstairs and I never even said anything about it. I never told my family I’d done it. I never posted anything about it on social media (not that something has to be posted to actually have happened!). I didn’t even allow myself to eat the entire chocolate recovery bar that I only allow myself to have at the end of a half marathon or longer race.

I made it through the actual race challenge, but I didn’t quite get through the entire training challenge I’d set, and I hadn’t met my weight loss goal, so I let myself believe that I was actually a failure and it was not worth telling anyone about it.

I still haven’t allowed myself to even have my first official cup of coffee in my new Run Like The Wind Bullseye mug that I had custom made. I washed the new shirt and leggings and put them in the drawer and have not touched them since. Did I actually earn them all, or did I not? At least that’s what my stupid mind is hissing at me whenever I think about it.

Ok, you know what. I did earn it. I did start the race and I did finished the race. Maybe I didn’t cross off every single box of the three month crazy challenge I created, but I need to give myself the grace to just be ok with that. I did still train and I did still meet most of the challenge criteria, right?

I’m a wife, mom, daughter, friend who works multiple jobs and lives by a set of basically unachievable standards inside my head. I’m not sure how or why or when that lovely little perfection demon came to settle so deeply within me, but perhaps it’s time I simply invite him for a cup of coffee and have a little heart to heart about all this havoc he’s causing me.

And I can think of the perfect mug to use.

#runallthemilesdrinkallthecoffee
#drinkallthecoffeedoallthethings
#runlikethewindbullseye
#motherrunner
#gritgitter

Previous blog post { Word for 2022 - Enough  } HERE

Next blog post { Happy New Year from the Crane's 2021 Year in Review } HERE

Word for 2022 - Enough

Well hello strangers.

My apologies. I have zero excuses as to my silence. I’ve been busy, I’ve been surviving, I’ve been dancing that delicate balance of just “living” these past few days (…months …years)

I really did have some grand intentions to get back on here regularly this summer, but I found I just can’t do it all. I can’t do all the things, so I continued to just let the blog go for a while. And I may continue to let it be for a long time forward, perhaps forever… I don’t honestly know. However, I do love to write, so I’m going to hope that someday I can regularly find my way back here again.

So what brings me here today… Well, in just a few short days is the start of a brand new year. 2021 is nearly over and 2022 is already knocking. And I am in full on survival mode yet from 2020 if I’m totally honest, and as I sit here telling myself I need to start looking ahead, start figuring out my new goals and hopes and plans for 2022, I just find my heart hurting, and my soul shrinking inward even farther than it already is hiding.

I don’t wanna. I do not want to do anything.

I want to stop all the things. I don’t want to work, I don’t want to workout, I don’t want to start or stop or continue anything. I don’t want to run, or walk, or bike, or elliptical, or row, or hit play, or pick up one single weight. I don’t want to cook, or bake, or clean, or help anyone do anything. I don’t even want to read, or write, or scrapbooking at this current moment.

I want to crawl in bed, in the dark, with the electric blanket turned up high, and sleep and lay tucked far far away under all the safety of my blankies, hidden in my very own bedroom..­. Zero responsibilities, zero cares, zero talking, zero doings of anything.

Yup, this is what my current weary mind is whispering to me, taunting me, tantalizing me, tempting me… pulling me inward and begging me to give in to the silence and stillness it so desperately thinks I need. Some of it is truth, but lots of it is the lie of depression and anxiety.

But you know what… in my current forty-six years of living, I also know that if and when I do finally give in, or give out, and comply with the “nothing” my mind is telling me to grant myself, that I know that that same mind won’t allow me to simply just climb in and “be.” I may be able to give my body the rest it needs, but my mind however, is always another story. Again, more of the intricate lacing in my mind that’s woven and braided amid sanity and depression and anxiety.

I know as I would lay there trying to obey the weary whines of my every exhausted muscle and bone, trying to give myself the rest and grace I know it needs, my mind … well my mind will continue to have a mind of it’s own. And I know the longer I would lay, and the longer I would attempt to do nothing but rest and recoup, the louder my mind will start its next set of whispers and lies… the ones telling me that I’m not enough.

That I’m not busy enough, thin enough, strong enough, smart enough, rich enough, bold enough, quiet enough… Not a good enough wife, mom, soon-to-be grandma, daughter, sister, employee, friend, stranger… Get up girl! Do more! Be more! Get more!

LORD HAVE FREAKING MERCY ALREADY!

I’ve spent nearly my entire life in battle with this. I know it merely is what it is, and time and time again I know I need to figure out how to just get over it… and I obviously have not been able to do a very good job at it.

So, as I look to 2022 and wonder – Well, what should I all attempt to do / reach / overcome THIS year?? I just can’t help but want to just attempt to actually do nothing at all. Or at least go in with zero expectations of anything.

No milage goal. No weight goal. No preset races and training schedules. No book reading list. No budget expectations (but not meaning I’m allowing myself to be free to spend and spend – no, just wanting zero expectations on my attempt to NOT spend in my incessant drive to try to save and to justify overworking.).

No goals, no resolutions, no expectations.
Simply allowing whatever to just be enough.

Enough. Such an incredibly power packed word that carries so much weight. Oh that one word really can carry the entire weight of the world inside it can’t it? Enough.

I believe this is the word I will assign to the year 2022. Enough. Although I really have no idea how to simply allow myself (or anyone else if I’m honest) to simply be … enough …. But I don’t think I’m going to even allow myself any more time of contemplation over it right now.

Looking back, some of my recent word of the years have been:
2017 = Less
2018 = Contentment
2019 = Just Be
2020 = Focus
2021 = there was no word, so by default it was basically Survival
2022 = Enough.

And for now, that is going to just be enough.

I shall settle on this word, and settle on the agreement with myself of setting zero anything for myself in 2022, attempting to allow myself to somehow simply be “enough” exactly as I already am.

Maybe I'll figure out how to finally just be enough to me, myself, and I over this next twelve months, and maybe I won't. But I'm going to attempt to allow myself to go into 2022 free and clear of all the things.   (Easier said than do, oh yes I surely know!) Hopefully I'll surprise myself by what I'll all get done and figured out... then again, maybe I honestly won't do a darn single thing and I'll find myself sitting in this exact same place in a year.

Maybe I'll be rested and ready to move mountains in 2023, maybe I'll still be the weary hot mess I've been in, I honestly just don't know. But, I'm going to allow myself to be ok with not knowing and not even trying to figure out how to figure it out right now.

Enough. As I am... where I am... how I am... right now. Enough

Previous blog post {  Three Songs, Three Hours  } HERE

 

Next blog post { Run Like the Wind Bullseye Challenge } HERE

Three Songs... Three Hours

I spent the entire summer not listening to the radio. Silence is what I craved, and silence is about all I could handle. I just couldn't do "words" for some reason.

When I worked, I worked in silence (basically always have and to be honest one huge perk of working from home is not have the musak speaker directly above my desk).

When I drove, I drove in silence, or at least without the radio on. Most trips to and from the lake I had the teenager and pooch with me, but he was usually beyond good to go with the radio off when I handed him my phone for an hour of roblox in the backseat (and yes, I did try and also have conversation and interaction with him as well).

And when I ran, I ran listening to either Christmas piano music or a mix of other classical songs in a random Spotify playlist. Yeah, call me crazy.

It was a season of simply no lyrics. No messages. No podcasts. No words.

And then one day my hubs had driven my car (which he hadn't done in about two years due to a broken drivers seat switch so the seat only stayed in place for "short people" but I had finally gotten my six foot five son to pretzel himself into it, bring it to his shop, and fix it for me... but I digress...)

So the hubs had taken my car somewhere and of course had turned on the radio. And I drove to drop off my son somewhere, and as I was driving on Hwy 10 back to my house I heard a song for the very first time.

You know, one of those songs that come out of the radio and just grab you, overtake you, imprint that exact moment to your memory immediately and forever.

It was a very hard week for our town, our community, our schools, our places of work, as we all woke up one morning to an expected passing of a very young woman, only days into the start of her Junior year of high school. So between that and my own personal sting of grief with our Faith MaryJo... I found myself in my car, in my garage, alone and just weeping.

Casting Crowns - Scars in Heaven
If I had only known the last time would be the last time
I would've put off all the things I had to do
I would've stayed a little longer, held on a little tighter
Now what I'd give for one more day with you
'Cause there's a wound here in my heart where something's missing
And they tell me that it's gonna heal with time
But I know you're in a place where all your wounds have been erased
And knowing yours are healed is healing mine
The only scars in heaven, they won't belong to me and you
There'll be no such thing as broken, and all the old will be made new
And the thought that makes me smile now, even as the tears fall down
Is that the only scars in heaven are on the hands that hold you now
I know the road you walked was anything but easy
You picked up your share of scars along the way
Oh, but now you're standing in the sun, you've fought your fight and your race is run
The pain is all a million miles away
The only scars in heaven, they won't belong to me and you
There'll be no such thing as broken, and all the old will be made new
And the thought that makes me smile now, even as the tears fall down
Is that the only scars in heaven, yeah, are on the hands that hold you now
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah, for the hands that hold you now
There's not a day goes by that I don't see you
You live on in all the better parts of me
Until I'm standing with you in the sun, I'll fight this fight and this race I'll run
Until I finally see what you can see, oh-oh
The only scars in heaven, they won't belong to me and you
There'll be no such thing as broken, and all the old will be made new
And the thought that makes me smile now, even as the tears fall down
Is that the only scars in heaven are on the hands that hold you now


Later that night I had to drive to another neighboring town for an apportionment, and I had left the radio on. Another song struck my heart on the way there... and then another on the way home.

Three new songs (to me) within three hours.
God wanted to share them with me that day, and I'm sampling wanting to share them with you today.


Leanna Crawford - Truth I'm Standing On

Scared, oh I thought I knew scared
Now I'm so filled with fear
I can barely move
Doubts, I've had my share of doubts
But never more than right now
I'm wondering where are You
I'm on the edge of fall apart
But somehow Your promises
Find my troubled heart
This is the truth I'm standing on
Even when all my strength is gone
You are faithful forever
And I know You'll never
Let me fall
Right now I'm choosing to believe
Someday soon I'll look back and see
All the pain had a purpose
Your plan was perfect all along
This is the truth I'm standing on
Good, I believe You're still good
Even when life's not good
I will not loose this hope
The God who parts the sea
Promises He's gonna
Make a way for me
This is the truth I'm standing on
Even when all my strength is gone
You are faithful forever
And I know You'll never
Let me fall
Right now I'm choosing to believe
Someday soon I'll look back and see
All the pain had a purpose
Your plan was perfect all along
This is the truth I'm standing on
My rock my shield my firm foundation
I know I will not be shaken
You remind me
Where my help comes from
This is the truth I'm standing on
Even when all my strength is gone
You are faithful forever
And I know You'll never
Let me fall
Right now I'm choosing to believe
Someday soon I'll look back and see
All the pain had a purpose
Your plan was perfect all along
This is the truth I'm standing on

Jack Cassidy Let Go, Let God
My fear got me struck down
Got me knocked out
By the hands of the enemy
Those lies had me held down
'Til I found out
That is not my identity
I found my life when I laid it down
And all my hope is in You now
My faith is in You Jesus
I'm learning to let go and let God
Show me how to be me
I'm learning to let go and let God
Show me how to be free
Your yolk is easy
Your burden is light
My daily bread and my daily delight
I'm learning to let go and let God
So I can be the real me
I'm giving over my heart
For a new start
'Cause I've come to the end of me
I'm learning that in Your love
There is freedom
Even for a wretch like me
I found my life when I laid it down
And all my hope is in You now
My faith is in You Jesus
I'm learning to let go and let God
Show me how to be me
I'm learning to let go and let God
Show me how to be free
Your yolk is easy
Your burden is light
My daily bread and my daily delight
I'm learning to let go and let God
So I can be the real me
I've been hurting
I've been burdened
Too long, too long
Fear is falling
Chains are breaking
So long, so long
I've been hurting
I've been burdened
Too long, too long
Fear is falling
Chains are breaking
So long, so long
Let go, let God
Let go, let God
Let go, let God
Let go and let God
I'm learning to let go and let God
Show me how to be me
I'm learning to let go and let God
Show me how to be free
Your yolk is easy
Your burden is light
My daily bread and my daily delight
I'm learning to let go and let God
So I can be the real me
Let go, let God
Let go, let God
Let go, let God
So I can be the real me

Other honorable mentions I'd love to also share:

Jonny Diaz - Breathe

Ninety miles an hour going fast as I can
Trying to push a little harder trying to get the upper hand
So much to do in so little time, it's a crazy life
It's ready, set, go it's another wild day
When the stress is on the rise in my heart I feel you say just
Breathe, just breathe
Come and rest at my feet
And be, just be

Chris Tomlin - Nobody Love Me Like You
Morning, I see You in the sunrise every morning
It's like a picture that You've painted for me
A love letter in the sky
Nobody loves me like You

Previous Blog Post { Talking About Something Without Really Talking About it } HERE

Next Blog Post { Word for 2022 - Enough } HERE

Talking About Something ... Without Talking About It

I made a promise to myself a few weeks back to write something and post it every week for nine weeks. As I was out trying to pound through my miles earlier today, I was trying to think about what to write about this week.

So many things… so very many things are in a tangled messy web around me right now it seems. Which string do I grab, do I pull, do I attempt to examine, dissect and share about? I honestly don’t know, it’s just all too much and too messy right now to know which specific thing to focus on.

Today is the first day of August. Oh how I struggle with August. I won’t devote this entry to that specifically, but will leave just a few links so you know what I’m referring to.  Today that was not forefront on my mind, but I do totally know it's lingering in there waiting to sink its teeth in again soon.

August 2016 • August 2017 • August 2017 • August 2018 • August 2019

So as I wound my thoughts around and around, cussing and discussing it all with myself, I decided that perhaps I attempt to write about a few things this week, without actually writing about them. Yeah, I know… probably as crazy as it sounds, I know.

But I think it's going to be one of those things you get... or you don't get.  And the ones that get it... this one is for you.

First off, you’re probably even wondering what that even means, talking about something without actually talking about it…. and I’m talking about those things that are perhaps your burden and struggle, your hard, your reality, your auto pilot you’re stuck in - but it is not entirely your story to tell. It’s not just you, and it’s not just black and white.  It's simply not really all your story to tell.

I share (and overshare) about a lot of things on this space, but there is a huge half that I remain fairly silent about, because it’s hard, really hard, and as mentioned earlier, it’s not entirely my story to share, so I don’t. But, because I choose to not vividly paint all the details out in all the colors that it shows itself to all be, does not mean that it is not a very real and present aspect of my life, every single minute, every single day.

And most minutes and days, it is an utterly exhausting song and dance.

I have been given the privilege of getting to be the mother of a son who was born of another woman. Had God answered our prayers for our own living children over the years and years (and years) we begged and pleaded and doctored, I’m not sure if I would have actually “chosen to be chosen” for this. But God’s answer was a very strong NO, and it was enforced over and over again.

I guess that is what it took for us to finally hear His whispered of His plans, for not just our lives, but for countless others as well in the messy and complicated triad of adoption.

And, His call did not end as we drove home from the hospital that day with the crying newborn in our backseat. Looking back, the approval and years of waiting for that crying newborn was actually the easiest part of the entire journey thus far, if I’m going to be completely honest.

So… without sharing details, I do feel like I need to simply state that yes, we followed the call that we were given to adopt, and while I have chosen to not really share much of that half of my life with the general public, it is very much a really large, really hard, really messy part of my life and my story… of our life, our story.

There is an entire other world of reality that goes on within the walls of our family, as I know is the case with every single family. And also like many others, I know, our story is sometimes hard. Yes, there are joys and happiness and goodness, but there is also a stack of messy and hard and heavy things stacked super high against that on our teeter-totter.

To say it’s been a bumpy ride is an understatement. 

That being said, I also need to emphatically state that I have never once doubted any of this.  We are all exactly where we are supposed to be in this adoption story.  This doesn't usually make it any easier, but this is something given, granted, gifted to us by God, and as we fall to our knees over and over, we know we cannot do this without Him carrying us all the way.

We live and we love with all our hearts, minds, and souls, and no, it's not all bad... there is a lot of good, of great, of joy... it's just always mixed with a really heavy twist of difficulty and unknown.

I know it’s not just “adoption” alone that weaves the “high needs kiddos” of the world, there are many many many other things… other diagnoses, other traumas, other circumstances that leave the hard deck stacked just a little higher than some of the others in the realm of reality and parenting.

I know you know who you are, I see it in your eyes, your reactions and actions to the displayed behaviors you pray no one else is seeing or overhearing. I see it in your silence, I see it in your inner aches and outer hurts. Please know, you are not alone. Whatever your story, whatever your burden, your fear, your guilt, your disappointment, your ache for more / better / different …. know you are not alone, I see you and I want to hug each and every one of you, and your kiddos.

I want to help love all the yuck out of their lives and yours, but we all know - that there is not enough love in the entire world to fix some of this “broken.”

And that reality is harder to accept than anything you will ever know.

All the love in the entire world is still not going to be enough, and we will break our hearts and our selves and our lives over and over and over again merely trying for it to be.

A few basic words, perhaps left here in simple bullet points that are far far far from a complete list or "as easy as" the tiny dot each one represents. • high needs • medication • therapy • self / child advocacy • IEP / 504 • alphabet soup of tests / diagnoses • appointments • friends / family / school / church / social • tantrums / triggers • financial burdens • insurance issues / deductibles / pre-approvals  • mental / behavior / spiritual healthcare • sensory issues / overstimulation • intentional sabotage • self care / self harm • fear / disappointment • invisibility while being highly visible….

I feel I need to reign it in here and simply stop, knowing I’ve probably already shared too much. But yet I know I am not alone, we are not alone in this. There are several who will never know, never get it, never see it for what it really is, will never believe us if we tried to even tell, would never support us even if we asked.  Who see us, see our kiddos, read this with that odd little tilt of their heads off to the left with one eye brow slightly raised not following a word I'm saying here.

Surely it's merely a parenting issue... not a child issue.

To which I simply need to state: not all disabilities are visually identifiable from looking from the outside in.

But there are those that do get it - do see - do know - do support (and the few who don't get it, don't see, don't know and still decide to simply support us anyway) and I simply say, thank you to each and every one of you.

There’s a very large, very real other half to basically everything I do, that is beyond child loss and beyond my own self. It’s a mix of messy relationships, of hard love, of rocky situations, of trying to live two steps ahead while being drug along in the dirt and dust from three steps behind.

I’m not writing this to be looked down on, to be gossiped about, to be pitied, to be suddenly scrutinyzed through even more colored lens from the world around us…. 

I’m merely wanting to say please please please choose to live life with an open mind and an even more open heart. Don’t turn away the messy, don’t shun the hard. Don’t judge and don’t assume.

None of us have any idea what everyone around us is going through. We have no idea the burdens and weights attached to the shoes they are wearing through their God assigned journeys in their lives.

Give grace, send prayers, extend hugs, choose kind. To everyone, including yourself. And it’s hard, really hard… especially to ourselves most day as we are living our lives “less than” in a valiant attempt to help others live “more than.”

Previous Blog Post { Taking PTO } HERE

Next Blog Post { Three Songs Three Hours } HERE

Taking PTO

A week ago I took a day of PTO.

I had originally been registered to attend a large coaching conference, with excited plans to meet up with several amazing friends that I have not had the privilege to meet yet in-person. It was going to take place in St Louis, Missouri, which was within driving distance for me, with the added bonus, is also the work location that I am an art admin to for the company I work for, Staples. I had planned / hoped to drive up the weekend before, work from the STL office a few days and meet and greet all my lovely work peeps, and then go on to meet up with all my friends I have met online, and after years of deep friendships, would get to meet and hang out with in-person.

Last summer the live event was covid canceled… and several months ago they announced that this year’s live event would also be covid canceled, and… most Staples peeps are still working from home.

DangNabit anyway. All the hopes, all the plans… yet again yanked from under me.

At that point I should have turned my three PTO days back in, waiting to use them when I actually needed them. See, PTO is a bit tricky for me. I’m the newest hire on a small subteam of beautiful gals… so I only earn a fraction of the time off they all earn each year, and we can only have one person out at a time. It’s all good, but does also leave me basically doing a lot of… well… covering for people. It’s kind of a running joke that if I’m not taking PTO, then someone else is.

I used a big chunk of my PTO for the big wedding earlier this summer. And praise the Lord for that time off! I used and appreciated every second of it, but they were not exactly overly “restful” days off ;-). I have the last bit of my PTO marked off for a full Oldenkamp family adventure to North Carolina over Thanksgiving to celebrate my parents 50th anniversary and get to see all the sights and sounds of where my brother and his family moved last summer.

So, needless to say, between baseball games and all the doctor appointments we navigate through, my rolling PTO excel spreadsheet that we plug everything in to – the tally along the bottom of the page has read ZERO since before this year even started.

Which brings us back to last week. I know I should have turned those days back in… and yet I just never did. That week arrived and I knew I needed to make some decisions. I also knew I was beyond exhausted and burned out, both in life and at work. We have recently gone through several large program / system / software changes, and the added stress of days having to cover when others were off, after living a life completely stuck in full speed ahead mode and amid living through the reality of a world pandemic for the last eighteen months.

My mind kept telling me over and over to turn the time back in and have a little cushion, because Lord only knows what the Lord has in store for us. That is one thing I have learned, one never knows and one is never fully prepared for everything… heck, one never knows and one is never fully prepared for anything anymore, amiright?!?

In the end I did give back a few hours but also took a few hours. One day I spent one-on-one with my son at the lake, and one day… I spent one-on-one with me, myself, and I.

Yup.  I swallowed my pride and I made the ask for my parents to take the teenager overnight Sunday night and have him all day Monday and I would pick him up late afternoon. They probably cringed just a little, but replied with a “That should work.” Praise the Lord. So I drove him from the lake to their house, dropped him off early evening, and drove myself home.

I unpacked, I showered, I put on all the comfy clothes, I made the coffee, and I went downstairs to my craft room. I left all of the dirty laundry on the floor in the hallway. I left all of the dirty dishes in the sink and on counter. I left the kitchen table heaped high with heaven only knows. I didn’t open the mail laying on the other counter. I didn’t sweep up the dust bunnies and I didn’t vacuum up all the bits and specs of all the this and thats that have been building and gathering for probably over a month.

Oh I stood there for a hot second looking at it all, fighting against myself that was screaming that all of that needed to be taken care of first before I could even entertain the thought of … gasp … scrapbooking. I stood there surveying the mess of my house (fully representing the mess of my life, yes I know) and turned and went downstairs anyway.

The steps needed vacuuming, I noticed for the millionth time, as I decended. Oh Lord and the basement… I can’t even… I continued through that mess and walked past the treadmill, and elliptical, and bike, and workout weights. Yup, totally should get those steps in and calories burned first before allowing myself to scrapbook… But I continued through them all and opened the craft room door, my exercise area leaving an audible gasp of disbelief in my brushoff.

I sat down. I looked, I touched. I organized a little, I took a deep breath… and I started where I had last left off, which was… well, before my big back injury in early January.

At midnight, I was still scrapbooking (I am a 9pm in bed asleep gal) and I was still getting messages from the teenager who apparently wasn’t able to sleep and missing me over at my parents house. Part of me wanted to go get in the car and just go get him and bring him home… but I didn’t. Funny how those kiddos of ours never want to actually be with us until they aren’t actually with us, then suddenly they miss us and want us to come get them. Oof.

I went up and went to bed with my alarm set early. If I was going to “selfishly” use a day of PTO, then I was going to take advantage of every single second.

A few hours later the alarm went off, the coffee started perking, and I again passed by the exercise area and again gave them the unheard of brushoff. I was back in my quiet room busy with my paper and cutters and scissors and stickers, and all the memories from all the moments captured in all those vibrant and beautiful photos.

No music, no noise. No podcasts, no words. Silence, utter silence. Just the slicing of paper and the sipping of coffee, hour after hour. The window to outside went from black, to grey, to light, and I looked at my watch and it was just after 8:00 am.

I still had time to run upstairs and log on, to work, to turn in the PTO. My mind was all at unease with all these thoughts slamming around. There was suddenly so much guilt. Mom guilt that I pawned off my child to my parents. Spouse guilt over all the housework needing to be done.  Work guilt that I was not working but not actually doing “anything” that would warrant the need for the day off. I honestly had a few moments of almost manic to sit and talk myself through.

No. Stay and sit. No. You can and will and are going to scrapbooking all day today. The phone is on silent, you are not going to log on and work. You are not going to message to see how the teenager is doing. You are not going to turn your phone on and start answering messages and emails. You are not going to get caught up scrolling mindlessly on social media. No.

Oh how the wrestle and struggle was real, and I finally sat back and thought, wow – why is it so hard to take a freaking day of PTO? When did that reality turn into this beastlike resistance inside me?

Who told me that this was all just selfishness and irresponsible and that I had not done enough yet to earn this day of silence and renewal? And what if that who – was really only myself, my own distorted beliefs deeply engrained and intricately woven through my very marrow of existence?  (Because of course it's me.)

Why can’t I allow myself to just do nothing? And wait, scrapbooking isn’t just nothing. Scrapbooking to me it is something, a really really big something actually, if I’m honest. It’s that thing that fills me, that brings me joy and creative release. It's one of the things that makes me happy inside.

Why do I allow myself to label my time as earned and unearned? Why do I allow myself to keep and honor unwritten rules inside myself as to what and when I can walk away from all the things (the adulting, the wife-ing, the mom-ing, the cleaning, the cooking, the working, the general busy-ing…)? And where did all these unwritten beliefs of mine come from? My parents growing up? The vacations we took that every single minute and moment was filled with doing something, something that never included nothing? The social media feed I allow myself to ingest? The society shouting it’s hustle and bustle and do’s and overdo’s over and over again one post, one meme, one tweet after another. Always to be in motion, always to be giving, always to be denying, always to be one more-ing to keep up with the Jones’s. Never enough… never enough stuff, never enough money, never enough worth, never enough enough’s.

Now, scrapbooking isn’t the only “earned” belief I carry. I also have foods that need to be earned (I only allow myself the “treat” of a Gatorade choc caramel recovery bar after I have completed a half marathon or longer distance race [not training distance mind you, that doesn’t count – only a specific and timed “race”] … and I only allow myself a massage (my ultimate gift to myself) after I have also completed a half marathon or longer distance race [although on occasion I will allow a training distance run to qualify].

I’m sure I can come up with lots of other similar oddities I hold within as my truth, but I’m not going to try waste my moments on those thoughts, mostly because it just makes me sad. Sad that so much time, talent, and exertion seems to be wasted by the earning and justifying of things we don’t feel we (ok… and least me, but I just can’t seem to think that I am alone in this battle) just deserve for any reason beyond “just because.”

Why do we do this to ourselves? This push to work so hard to earn that which we really want to do, what we really enjoy doing, what we really love being granted the opportunity to fully savor. Or is this just me? Am I the only one needing personal justification and self-validation to earn the gift, the grace, the approval, the admittance to simply do something that fills me up? For no other reason than because… well, because I want to.

Self care. Soul care. Something so needed and yet so complex for some reason. Much more complex surely than it was intended to be.

Well… in the end I did manage to talk myself off that ledge a week ago. I did spend an entire day by myself, with myself, and my own thoughts and happiness. I sat in silence with all these amazing memories, with all the colors of the rainbow at my fingertips, with no worries of interruptions.

I got myself past the guilt and the justification and simply allowed myself something that filled me, for no other reason than ... because it was the thing I wanted to do, I chose to do, I allowed myself to do.

The day didn't end with everything suddenly perfect and all my imperfections fixed, all my insecurities overcome, all my less than's finally more than's... but it did end with a finished scrapbook of our family vacation that we took last summer to the Wisconsin Dells (which we never even told anyone about - but did actually happen even though none of us posted on social media about it ~LOL) and I got to sit and flip through those pages with my family, and smile and remeniece.

I allowed myself a few hours of silence, all alone, doing what I love to do, and rarely allow myself to actually do. I let my weary soul fill back up just a little, nowhere near the top to overflowing, but enough to at least help lighten the steps and brighten the days, at least for a little while. 

The Wedding

Oh I have so many things to write and share about, and I think I’m going to just dive in and start with The Wedding… because it’s a mix of the most exciting thing and I know it’s going probably be a pretty hard thing to try capture, and express, and share.

Last fall my son got down on one knee and asked the love of his life if she would marry him, and she said yes. To say the least, we were all beyond ecstatic.

And over the next nine months, I have never felt more loved and more welcomed by anyone than I have been by my precious new daughter-in-law and her family. I was invited to all the things, got to help make, and create, and be hands on with all the things. The showers and flowers, the dress shopping, the engagement clothes shopping, the invites and programs, the bachelorette party (well most of it anyway ~lol), the spa day, the rehearsal supper, the desserts and the cakes… I was joyfully asked and able to just be a part of it all.

Really there are no words to fully describe the feeling of that love and inclusion of myself, getting to watch the love and growth of my son and his fiancé, getting to know her family, and just the fullness within a mothers heart, soul, and mind knowing the wonderful family that her son was also becoming a part of. I have tears in my eyes just trying to write this.

This may end up becoming a multipart series, as I’m sitting here thinking over all the things I could write about (the friends who show up to handle all the things, the stress of having one son the groom and one son the groomsmen, doing a wedding with a mixed family of ex’s and step’s etc) and to put that all in one post isn’t possible.

I think I will initially start with some of my thoughts and emotions I experienced in regards to being both the mother of the groom, and the mother of a stillborn daughter who was born sleeping six years ago.

First and foremost I need to start by simply stating that even though the focus of this particular post is going to be on the wedding and Faith, that my entire mind and thoughts that day were not solely and wholly centered on her. In fact, they were but small snippets to the whole of that amazing day.

I was filled with so much love and joy, pride and good overwhelm, and was truly focused on taking in all the minutes, moments, and memories that I possibly could. So please, don’t read this and think that I was stuck only in my loss and all that I didn’t have and all who wasn’t there – because that is not the case.

But I also don’t want to not take the opportunity to speak quietly into just a few things within my heart in regards to the reality of having a wedding and not having one of your children there with you in the midst of the celebration and chaos.

We have a pink bear that has come to represent Faith. She sits on a shelf on top of the little box of cards and keepsakes of her life and loss. On occasion she joins us in a family photo. My husband is a little odd about it sometimes, which is totally understandable, so for the most part, she’s just hanging out on the shelf. When he saw the bear out and on top of all the cupcake and wedding cake stands, he immediately asked why the bear was out, wary of what my ulterior motive of inclusion was going to be.

Bailey and Coby asked to bring the bear along to the wedding. I wasn’t exactly sure what the plan was for it, and I don’t think they really did either, we just all kind of felt it needed to be there. They also had a beautiful glass and candle display to remember all of the special people that were already gone and watching from Heaven.

I had plans to ask for one family photo including the pink bear. Beyond that I had no thoughts or expectations. The bear went from the back pew of the church during rehearsal, to the downstairs room where all the girls got ready, and then moved to a corner upstairs on top of my bag of all the mom things.

It was a bustle of activity from the time we woke up the day of the wedding. The guys were off to shoot guns and eat donuts, the girls were off to the hair salon. There was lunch shifts, first the girls, then the boys – because the bride and groom were not to see each other before “the first look moment.” And then suddenly, I was needed upstairs for photos of me and Bailey. I helped him do his hair, I helped straighten his collar, I helped pin on his boutonniere. And then … my husband and I got the unexpected gift of a few slow ticking minutes. We were able to sit with him, just the three of us for a little while as we waited for the bride to be ready.

Those minutes in that room will always be some of the best minutes of my life.

And then just like that, the bride was nearly ready and we were to head to the family farm for the first look and all the photos, about a mile away. I suddenly got to load him in my car and drive him there, just the two of us in the cakemobile. And those minutes – phew – let’s just say it was a good thing I had no idea beforehand I was going to be granted those minutes. I did not have a great little talk planned, I did not have all the right words of wisdom ready to try express all my love and all the mom things of that moment in a short one mile drive on a dusty gravel road.

Hopefully what I did manage to get out was enough. (I say this with a smile).

He was so excited, and so nervous, and so in love. My heart could hardly handle it. And then as we got him in the house and into the back room, watching for the arrival of the bride and getting their first look moment all perfectly set up to happen behind the barn… I realized that I had not taken along the pink bear. It was still sitting on top of my bag of all of my mom stuff.

This thought struck my mind as I stood in the hallway looking to my right out the window to their driveway waiting for the arrival of the bride, and looking to my left watching him standing in the doorway of the back room.

I did not take the bear along and they would be doing all the photos at the farm.

I was struck with the reality that first – I had healed enough to actually forget the bear amid the wonderful chaos of that moment with my first born living son, that actually made me smile just a little. And I realized that this also meant that I would not be getting that one family photo with the pink Faith bear. And in that exact moment I found I was more ok with not having the bear in one photo than it was for me to do anything about getting it there. It was of importance, yes… but not enough importance to allow me to miss one single moment of everything happening right then and there. I had a moment of angst and disappointment at myself, but it was gone as fast as it hit.

It was fine. I was fine. There was not going to be a pink bear in one family photo. So, I just took a selfie with it after we got back to the church. And that was good enough for me. She was there, exactly where and how she needed to be.

There were other moments throughout it all, of course, that I had those few thoughts and pangs of the reality that there really should have been one more little cute redheaded five year old running around. One more person I should be worrying about and running around after. One more person to run into Bailey and Coby’s arms for a hug and a kiss and a dance at the reception. This wasn’t my every thought, but it was there.

The bittersweet reality of going on with life after the loss of someone dear. The reality of going on with life with a set of footsteps missing from all the moments and memories happening all around. The watching of other little ones similar to her age, watching and wishing… smiling and hurting, being grateful she’s getting to enjoy the perfection and pleasures of Heaven and not having to endure the sickness and pain of life here on earth, mixed with the guilt of wishing her to still be here with us on this stained and imperfect earth instead of up there embossed in her sparkling perfection.

Bittersweet. It’s the best word I can think of to describe it all.

I am an emotional person, and I may be known to cry easily. I was worried that I would just be one hot crying mess the entire time. I had no idea what to expect, this was our first wedding rodeo you know, as Bailey is our oldest… Coby on the other hand, well she is the way tail ender of a large family – so they were all prepared for all the things. (I say this with a smile of course. I mean really, no matter how many weddings you go through, one will never be fully prepared, this I am sure of.)

Overall I had been doing really well, until that moment at the rehearsal.

You know, that unexpected moment when it all hits and it takes everything in you to not just lay down and just sob… the ugly cry with all the tears and all the snot and all the little hiccups.

Well that moment ended up being the moment when the music started playing and the little flowergirl hit the center isle during the first run through the night of the rehearsal.

And I was not expecting it. And, it hit me hard. All the feels, all the emotions, all the tears. Tears of love and joy and pride and total overwhelm of all the things happening in that exact moment, but also tears of all that wasn’t.

There should have been one more little flower girl walking down that isle beside the adorable Miss Briella. There should have been two little hands tossing pink rose pedals with their sparkly shoes and dresses… but there was not.

There was only one.

And my heart flooded with so many extreme emotions all at exactly the same moment, and I was completely overtaken with tears, just all the tears, and I could not hold them back, could not contain them. Good tears, proud tears, happy tears, sad tears. Just… all the tears.

Words can’t really accurately describe that moment, but that’s ok, because while I can try to express and describe it, I know that I never will be able to fully write the words that would allow anyone else to fully know the magnitude of that moment that I will forever remember and hold near and dear within me.

It was an amazing time of total joy and celebration, mixed with a perfect ting of loss and sadness, just enough to keep me grounded and fully present…

Just enough to keep me fully grateful for every single minute of that amazing event.  And I am humbled and proud to say that we officially went from that family that lost their daughter... to that family that gained thee most amazing daughter ever.

Thank you Coby, for everything, from the bottom of my heart, you are loved beyond words.

 

Previous blog post { Yes, It's Been A While } HERE

Next Blog Post { Taking PTO } HERE

Yes It's Been A While

Well hello my friends… yes it’s been awhile hasn’t it.

It’s been a very busy and chaotic few months for me… actually all of 2021 is proving to be “quite the year”. (As if 2020 wasn’t “enough” of a “quite the year” enough for five years.)

So many things have happened this year… a RunDisney progressive virtual running event, which dovetailed into a multi-month recovery of a fairly major back injury. There was (is) the lingering covid divide of all things anything. There was a wedding and all things involving being the mother-of-the-groom; showers and flowers, invites and cakes, shopping and spa days. There has been camping and a somewhat attempt to return to running. There is now a teenager in the house and all the things involving the aspects of a middle school teenage adopted boy dealing with normal struggles, as well as a few additional struggles that need attention and love and constant navigation. There was a middle school baseball season, with all the practices, carpools, drop offs, pick ups, and games. There has been all the financial struggles I’m sure everyone is also experiencing and the attempts to juggle two jobs, both of which are currently from my home, but one of which will soon be having to return back to the public office setting.

I’m sure I could continue on, but I’m also sure I’ve probably already lost several of you along the way as you tried to just get past the above paragraph. I know I know, it’s not just me living in a crazy fog of all the things.

So, I have been fairly silent, at least much of the time. However, I have been leaving the house much more than a year ago. I have been making appearances in public places, as well as attempting to visit one on one with a few of my closer peeps that I have not seen much of over the past 18+ months. I’m still very much an introvert, still very much one who loves to view and experience things from afar.

I have stopped reading self help books, I’ve stopped listening to self help podcasts, and I gave my social media feed a very healthy trim. I finally looked up one day last summer and realized that all the books I was reading, and many of the people and accounts I was following in my attempt to become “better” were actually leaving me worse off than the “worse” I was already at.

So I picked up some non-fiction… said hello to the glorious Twilight series of books and movies, and then on to the Beautiful Creatures series, the House of Night series, the Of Smoke and Bone series, and haven’t really looked back since.

No more For the Love, no more Girl Wash Your Face, no more Carry On Warrior, no more Eat Cake Be Brave. I’ve made some fast friends with some amazing vampires and have zero regrets closing the door for a while on the self improvement ward.

On occasion I will still listen to a random podcast now and then, but overall I have just really cut back on everything, at least attempting to hold the reigns back to all that which influences me from the outside in. My radio is not on at home or in my car.  I don't watch tv.  I set my phone to turn off all notifications from 7pm to 7am, but don’t get me wrong, I’m still very easily the victim of endless social feed scrolling and wasting so many of my precious minutes and hours wishing I had more of this and less of that. 

I’ve also made the odd switch to running to classical music. I have always had a love for it (and you know, Metallica), but never while I was running or walking.  But one day I reached that point of utter burnout that was so extreme I could no longer continue to hear or process any more words.

So in other words, yes, I’m still a hot mess. I’m still not the weight I want to be. I’m still not remotely close to the mother / wife / daughter I need to be to those in my immediate bubble. I still have a daughter that I have to visit every now again over in the cemetery, and absolutely everything (and I do mean everything) in between.

I’ve been doing some thinking about this blog again lately, feeling compelled to post something… but not sure what. I started this blog to tell our story, our story of our Journey to Faith. Our love and loss of our dear little daughter Faith MaryJo. And I did share the details of our very short life with her, and I’ve since gone on to share some of the healing and dealing as I continue to try move forward in this life. She stopped living, but I did not, and somehow I am needing to figure out all the details to all the minutes, days, months, years until it will be my turn to take my last breath here on earth and join her.

And as I think about that, I think about what I really want to write about, to share, to allow you in to see and know and feel. But I have this ever present odd little voice in my head always saying – no one is wanting to know. No one wants to see what coffee mug you are using today.  No one wants to know that you ran today and how far you went. No one wants to hear about the thoughts and pangs and hurts and joys and sorrows and utter disparity continually at war within you.

And for some reason, I tend to listen to that voice, give that voice the power it does not have and surely does not deserve. I am not forcing anyone to do anything, and I do not need to believe the whispers saying no one wants to hear, or see, or know anything about anything I have to say or do.

So I’ve decided, at least for the current moment, to drink the coffee, run the miles, bake the cupcakes, pet the dog, post the photos, and … write the words.

Write the words.

Yesterday as I was in the car driving in silence, all the thoughts and all the words all binging and banging and pin balling around inside my mind, I decided to challenge myself to write and publish one thing a week for the next nine weeks. I was throwing back and forth if I needed to stick to a certain topic or not… and went back and forth over the reason for the blog in the first place.

Our Journey to Faith. "Faith" as in our daughter… "Faith" as in believing and doing all in which you cannot actually see or know, and simply trusting that it is good.

Maybe I'll try write about the joy of watching an amazing son marry the love of his life, while knowing there should be one more little flower girl coming down that isle before them with her pink rose pedals and her sparkly little shoes and dress.

Maybe I'll write about my running and fitness journey, because in reality, it took me being really sick and reaching the lowest of lows with my physical and mental health before I finally was able to find any kind of forward momentum improving my own health.

Maybe I'll write about…. Actually… why don’t you just try pop on here every now again over the next few weeks knowing I will hopefully be fulfilling my personal promise and challenge to myself and sharing whatever it is that God lays on my heart and hands in those moments yet to come. 

 

Previous Blog Post { Faith Week } HERE 

Next Blog Post { The Wedding } HERE

Faith Week

Today is the start of Faith Week for me.  The week leading up to the 6th birth date of our little Faith MaryJo.

It's been a thought in the back of my mind for a while... it's always a thought in the back of my mind in some form or another, but I have found today as I was attempting to sit in some silence and soul care for myself, that my mind is wanting to be anything but silent.

I wanted to allow myself a full "rest day" after my #runsheisbeautiful "run" yesterday (which I got through but didn't actually "run" it because of my back and inability to train like I had wanted [needed]).  For whatever reason my mind is always at war trying to justify what a "real runner" "is" and "isn't", and for all the miles and all the races I've put my body through, I still really don't consider myself a "real" runner.  But this is another topic for another day, and a topic that I've already covered (and covered and covered) in past posts.

But this morning as I sat reading in the dark morning silence, my mind was not wanting to comply to the silence around me.  It was thinking of the to-list on the counter.  It was thinking about the litany of things I have yet to accomplish and achieve that I want to, and it was continuing to bring up thoughts and memories of Faith.

Next Saturday will mark the 6th anniversary of her birth.  She was born sleeping, already in Heaven, already in the Arms of Jesus.  There's so much to say and yet nothing at all to say.  And I'm sitting here torn and unable to focus my thoughts and feelings into any one channel of clarity.

I've been doing "this" for six years now, and I still don't know how to do it "right"... I still don't know how to celebrate and grieve all at the same time.  How do you remember and how do you forget all at the same time?  And I know there is no right or wrong way to do it, and every single person does it differently... their own way, as only they need to, but I seem to always get stuck in the sticky middle of all of it.

Do I write something new, although how to you share something "new" when there isn't anything "new" actually to share, because the passing of the past year will still bring us right back to the same place as last year... the cemetery.

She's not here to open gifts, or eat her cake.  She's not here to pick her party theme or tell us what's on her wish list.  She's not here to take photos of or videos of to share and savor.  The only picture and videos of her are her ultrasounds photos, the memory burned into my mind of watching the large screen in the dark room and seeing those arms move, that heartbeat flutter in time on the screen with the audio coming from the machine next to me, and the pictures of her headstone across town at the cemetery.

I want to post, to share, to honor, and to remember her, but I don't want people to feel sorry for me, or pity me, or be concerned about my current mental health (or lack there of).  I want to plan a little something special to celebrate her, but wonder if that's just odd, weird, not normal, unhealthy... I don't want to re-post the same sad posts of that one time, that one thing that happened to us six years ago and make it sound like I am still unable to move on, to recover from, to get over... 

And yet... I'm NOT totally moved on, I'm NOT fully recovered from it, and I'm NOT completely over it, and know I never actually will be... So why worry, why fear what other people might think, or might say, or might not even care about.

We all journey through grief and loss differently, on different time frames and through different degrees of publicity and silent secrecy.  There's no guidebook on this, there's no grade to enter into the grade book at the end of the project to score how well we did (or didn't do).

And grades make me think of school... think about how she would have been in preschool or TK this year.  Who are the other kids that would be in class with her? Who are the other parents we would be mingling with?  What graduating year would she have been?  Who would she have been friends with? What toys and shows would she have enjoyed?  What would some of her favorite foods and candy have been?

These are all things we will never know, never have, never get to experience.  So, should I allow myself to think about these kinds of things, or should I just be working on forgetting... forgiving God and moving forward...

Should I again publicly share my story of her life and loss?  Should I bake her a little cake and celebrate the life we both got and lost all at the same time on March 27, 2015?  Should I bring balloons and flowers to the cemetery next Saturday? And... is this even an "I" thing for me alone to decide, as it really is a "we" thing... a "family" thing... and yet I am fully aware we are all on different pages of our journey within the same story, and that makes all of it even that much more tricky.

So this morning I sit here, my mind a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions and I have no idea what is right or wrong, what is forward or backward, what is remembering or forgetting, and I simply have to do what I've done so many times before...

I have to merely open my hands and acknowledge that I am not the one in control, I did not choose this, I do not know the answers to any of this, and somehow that is ok (even though it's totally not). 

It's ok to have to step into yet another Faith Week messy and mixed up and emotional.  It's ok to not be ok, and it's ok to actually be ok.  There's so much guilt, and sadness, and anger, and bitterness, and relief, and suppressed anxiety about all of it inside of me.

It's always there, always simmering just below the surface, and sometimes it rears up and wrecks more havoc than I feel I can bare... but this whole Journey to Faith seems to be about venturing in and through all the things I thought I could not bare... but had to. 

Part of me knows I have to bare this alone and by myself, and part of me knows I need to reach out and seek and take that which needs to be given to me, and I need to accept all of it with open arms and a receptive soul that is in need a healing salve that God wants to give to me in many ways and forms.

The hole in my heart will always be there this side of Heaven. Some days, some seasons, it will bleed, some days, some seasons, it will scab and start to heal. This week it will bleed huge drops of tears and sorrow, mixed with some anger and utter devastation. 

And that is ok. 

Whatever I decide is the right thing I need to do to grieve, to remember, to celebrate, to sit with, or to move on from is going to be ok.  Whatever that will all look like, whatever I need to do, or not do, will simply be ok.

I don't have a solid plan of how I want this week to go, or what I'm going to do, or not do.. what I will share, or not share... and as not ok as that is, and as not ok as I am... it will still be ok.

Previous Post { Road To 46 Grit Challenge } HERE.

Next Blog Post { Yes, It's Been A While } HERE

Road to 46 Grit 300 Challenge

This past summer I was already thinking about my birthday and what I could / would / should do for a fitness "challenge" for this year.

The past several years I have done some big birthday runs, and decided to follow suit, just kicked up a notch. I found a summer challenge going on and changed it up just a little. Instead of 300 miles over the summer, I would do 300 miles in the 46 days leading up to my birthday and finish up the miles with a half marathon the morning of my birthday. Which was just a random work day, on a Wednesday.  (I mean everyone chooses to get up extra early and run extra far quick a minute before work on the morning of their birthdays, right?!)

I've been intriqued by the word Grit for the past few years. I've listened to and read (and own) Angela Duckworth's talks and book about Grit: The Power of Passion and Perserverance, so naturally I was drawn to the Believe in the Run Grit Challenge this summer when I saw it post. The wheels in my mind immediately turning as to how to change it into something personal and challenging - yet attainable - for myself.

At the beginning of the year I printed out all the new calendar pages for 2021 to add to my workout schedule folder, and I began filling it in. I first got all my training logged through my Dream BIG Princess Challenge … then moved on to filling in the 46 days to my birthday. I was busy with the calculator figuring it all out, and finally had it all set and ready to go - hitting mile 300 during a half marathon run the morning of March 10th. I put the pencil down with a smile, and a little whisper of “girlfriend why do you keep doing this to yourself…” All in all, I was confident it was doable and I was ready to dive in and do it.

I trained (and trained) and stressed out but tackled that Dream BIG Princess Challenge in January. Four days in a row with a progressive 5K, 10K, Half (13.1), and Full (26.2) Marathon. I had the shirts, and the medals, and the coffee mug… and I did it, I actually completed it all. (All inside, on my treadmill and elliptical, and all of it completely alone in my basement.)

I “allowed” myself the following week off to rest and recover. Yeah, I’m one of those people who struggles with rest, and worth, and view food as the enemy and exercise as the punishment - so to eat and not exercise is hard mentally for me… I’m not great at controlling the demons inside me screaming for chocolate and candy and all the things I’m not supposed to eat - so that also means I’m not great at allowing myself to simply “not” do any intentional exercise…

But Lord knows my body needed rest, my mind needed rest… my soul needed rest, and I was allowing myself that. And then on day four I went to stand up out of my chair for lunch … and I could feel my back go out.  It seized, it spasmed, I grabbed it all hunched over and immediately called to get in to the chiropractor.

Nope, this is not my first rodeo with back issues… I’ve bent to put my leg into a pair of shorts, I’ve bent into the wash machine to pull out clothes, I’ve stood up from a chair, I’ve sneezed - and my back has gone out and I’ve gone down. It usually takes a trip or two to the chiropractor and a few days and it’s "for the most part" better.

I wasn’t at all surprised that my back went out after the wear and tear of the days earlier. I got adjusted, it was sore, I was careful, and two days later I loaded up the car with my mom and enough food to feed a small army and we set off to my son and future daughter-in-laws new house to feed the masses that were there helping tear down old plaster and lattes. I ran errands and at some point was handed the shop vac hose to take over some vacuuming. And I bent down to begin… and my back went out again… it really went out.

During the following days, weeks, and months my back would continue to haunt me. Every day there was incredible pain and spasming. I couldn't get up by myself, I couldn't get dressed by myself, I couldn't get shoes on by myself.  I couldn’t sit at all, and I couldn’t stand for long periods of time either. I was flat on my back most of the time. I went to the chiropractor, I went for massages, I was laced up tight in a back brace, and I finally went to the doctor for some muscle relaxers about six weeks in.

It was determined that it was not a spinal issue, it was an issue of some very angry sartorius muscles. I laid on the heating pad, I did the stretches, I made myself get up and try walk enough to somewhat get it to loosen up for just a moment or two. Rest and repeat.

I watched the calendar and day 1 of the Grit Challenge was getting closer and closer, and I was not running… I was barely walking, and I wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen.

In the end, I decided that I had set the goal of 300 “intentional” miles during those 46 days, and I just had to mentally settle on the fact that that “intentional” would have to be altered slightly during this time with my back.

I began watching the daily overall steps and milage on my garmin watch each day, something I hadn’t done before. I had originally set my milage goals by penciling in the distance I needed to intentionally run / elliptical / power walk each morning - all in one time interval with not stopping in between, and that was not an option, so I did what I could and kept track at the end of each day, hoping to end somewhat close to where I had originally "planned" on "needing" to do.

Walking was hard, really hard. I would have to make myself get up and move, and I began to start walking slow laps from one end of the house to the other, mutiple times a day, hunched over and breathing hard, squeezing my hands over the spasming muscles.  I continue recording the overall daily milage I got in, pushing myself to both rest and move as needed throughout each day.

I had never counted overall daily mileage before in my intentional milage, but these miles were some of the hardest and most "intentional" miles I have ever endured.  I had to figure out when to rest, when to push, and when to be done entirely.

I slowly began to walk a little on the treadmill, and in time I could also go a little while on the elliptical.  Every day I got up and tried to do what I could.  Some days were better than others, but every day hurt. Every single day was hard, and I'm still not near 100% over two months later.

In the end, while not at all what I had originally planned (umm hello, story of my life), I did actually log mile 300 during my miles the morning of my birthday.  I did earn that new mug, and I did wear that new shirt, and I did turn another year older, though sadly I did not meet many other of my wellness and fitness goals I had also pinned on that day... But nearly all my life I've entered the next year with the same hopes and goals and dreams - and nearly every year is another year I can't check all the boxes of completion.

While I may not have been at the weight I wanted or the running pace I wanted (or even running at all) or so many other things I fell short yet again on... I did however persist (and as Merriam-Webster states) with a firmness of mind or spirit with unyielding courage in the face of hardship or danger, through 300 intentional miles over the course of 46 days.  I wasn't able to tick the miles off on my garmin all at one time without stopping, but lap by lap through my house, and slow mile by mile on my treadmill and elliptical, I did get those miles in.

And while I hardly allowed myself to celebrate conquering that Dream BIG Princess Challenge before my back fell apart and I was left struggling to come to terms with a body that failed me again... I have to stop myself and say - no girl, your body didn't fail you - you got every single mile in on that challenge (and the next!), and it was a hard challenge, so give yourself some credit.  Your back went out, yes, but it didn't fail me, and it does deserve both the rest and celebration of getting me to and through yet one more of my personal tests of grit.   #gritgitter

Previous blog post { Sad, Serious, and a Side of Snarky } HERE

Next blog post { Faith Week } HERE

grit

 noun

Definition of grit

 (Entry 1 of 2)

1a: SAND, GRAVEL

b: a hard sharp granule (as of sand)also  : material (as many abrasives) composed of such granules

2: any of several sandstones

3a: the structure of a stone that adapts it to grinding

b: the size of abrasive particles usually expressed as their mesh

4: firmness of mind or spirit : unyielding courage in the face of hardship or danger managed to survive by his grit and guile