How Is It December Today?

How is it that today is December 1st already? How are we eleven months through this year already? Three hundred thirty-four days in...

And what in the world have I done this year? What possibly have I accomplished?

I feel like it was yet another year of one step forward and four steps back.

Granted, the year is not officially over yet.  We still have a fleeting thirty-one days left before we close the book on this chapter... but I know I am not where I was hoping I'd be a year ago, you know - when I was reflecting on the previous years helpless ending to yet another rough year.

At least I don't think I am where I was hoping to be. But truth be told... I'm not sure I actually really had any true plans for this year.

Every year I try to find a word... a theme... for the coming year to focus on. I was reflecting on this a few weeks ago. I had the thought that while every December I try focus on listening to the whisper of what the next years word will be, while I try look ahead to the next twelve calendar flips before me, while limping slowly out of the previous twelve flips that always seem to leave me weathered and worn... I very rarely spend any time during the middle of the year really trying to touch base with the word... the intentions... the expectations I set for myself before the start of each year.

This year's word is ENOUGH.

I just went and pulled that blog post back up...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ok.  So perhaps this year I did accomplish something, by actually not doing anything.

I tracked my intentional milage

but I had no goals or expectations what that number needed to be, or where I am currently even at with it for that matter.

I worked out somewhat regularly (though less than half of what I did in 2021),

but had no hardcore training schedules for anything.

I didn't get on the scale once.

I also had no goals or expectations what that number needed to be.

I didn't track the books and pages I read,

but I know I did read a lot, fiction and personal development.

I didn't write and publish a set number of posts, and while in the back of my mind I'm thinking I wished I could have done more...

I do honestly know that the state of my mental capacity to process and express in that manner this year, just was not even an option.

I went to work. I traveled. A lot. Like, I flew in airplanes three times in nine months. I went to the lake. I went to therapy. I went to the hospital and met my granddaughter. I went to another city and adopted a new dog. I held hands with my tribe of amazing women. I taught my teenager drivers ed (like, all of it ~ classroom and driving) and then handed him my car keys and let him drive himself to school. 

It was a tough year.  A great year, don't get me wrong, but a tough one. But I'm fairly certain this has become the canned speech I've given at the end of every year.  And every year I look ahead and hope for the best... or at least hope for better.

But best and better are a bit left undefined for me I think. I know I'm one that no matter how much I do, or how far I go, it will never be enough to satiate that nagging voice inside me always scratching for more.

It's the who that I am, hardwired into my very marrow.

I've spent much of my life fighting this... this perfectionism, this drive to over achieve, to over accomplish... to overcome... to hold it all together and to keep all the plates spinning for all the people.

I'm one that doesn't know how to not automatically give 110% at everything.

I'm not sure how it happened or how it all evolved... or when I went from trying to perfectly achieve and accomplish all the things - to coherently trying to not perfectly achieve and accomplish all the things... But I'm nearing a fine fifty years lived here shortly, and it is who I am.  There is always a battle within, always.  For better or worse (for richer or poorer?)(lol). 

So where am I even going with all of this?! I don't think I actually know.

But I do know that December's seem to be hard.  December's seem to take their toll every year.  December's seem to hold so much expectation while also guaranteeing nothing at all.

It is December, yes. 

But... The year isn't over. The year isn't a wash. The year isn't a bust.

And I'm not quite ready to cry in my coffee and call it quits just yet.

And neither should you.

Let's trust we are where we are supposed to be, in the timing that God has coordinated it to be.

Let's allow ourselves to sit, to lay our heads back, with our eyes closed for just a few brief moments.

To rest... to less, yes... but not to quit... not yet.

Previous Blog Post { Dream Big Princess ll } HERE 

Dream Big Princess Challenge ll

So I have alluded recently that I may have a small announcement to make… And while I don’t have quite all the details worked out yet, I actually have something quite large I am going to spill the beans about!

I will attempt to keep this short and to the point, however we all know I’m a bit hopeless with my words and stories :-) 

So, are you sitting down? Because I was sure glad that I was.

Let me briefly set the backdrop to this stage. Ever since I first saw @whiskey_tamago_flowers post during one of her RunDisney events on insta I have fallen madly in love with all things RunDisney. Except - I knew I would never actually get to run a live in-person race in Florida, through the Disney parks.

Mostly due to two factors. #1) They are all ridiculously hard to actually get registered for. I mean we are talking in past years, the race has seen up to 56,000 runners, and registrations selling out within minutes of it opening up. and #2) I would never be able to afford to actually do it. Let's just say, the registration fee to run through the parks does not include anything other than... the race. If you want to go to any parks after, extra. Travel and airfare, extra. Disney photo package, extra.

So over the years I have creatively put together a few #disneyonadime runs as I have called them. I have planned, and trained, and spent hours online shopping and bidding and putting together three different major virtual disney themed run challenges for myself.

My first was in 2019 when I was able to register for all the RunDisney Virtual Shorts races and I would put them all together to virtually run, in my basement, and earn those metals during the same live in-person races during the RunDisney Marathon weekend.  Read more on this HERE.

My second was in 2021 when I again put together a virtual run, in my basement, to earn a set of used RunDisney Princess Weekend metals, which I again ran during their then also virtual races of the RunDisney Marathon weekend (thank you Covid 19).  Read more on this HERE.

While on my mission to put together my #dreambigprincesschallenge for the above run, I also put together a RunDisney Donald Half Marathon 12 month challenge. I put myself up to the challenge to run a half marathon every month for the 12 months of 2021, earning past Donald Half Marathon metals that I was able to find online. It took a while, but I would eventually have twelve metals in a box in my closet and one official RunDisney Donald Half Marathon race shirt to wear for each race. I set a price limit on what I’d spent per medal, and kept track of the years I had so there were no duplicates.

My full initial plan was that I was going to also publish a blog post every month featuring that year’s metal and researching all the facts to share. How many people ran that race that year, what the weather had been, was going to feature a photo of the original runner whose metal I now had, at the finish line holding that same metal. I wanted to feature that runner each month and also open it up to see if there were any other finish photos of other runners and their same metals from that same race. I ran into a small snag when I was not able to ask for any personal information to follow up with anyone after purchasing- due to rules of poshmark and ebay. Totally understandable of course … but, it did kind of hinder my resolve.

I don’t even know if I have shared that much about that publically, but there are 12 official RunDisney Donald Half Marathon medals sitting on my table in the basement, waiting to be displayed on the new medal rack I bought for them, which I also haven’t gotten hung yet. For some reason, I never quite felt brave enough to share about this challenge I guess.

Anyway, every month in 2021 I was able to get myself through a half marathon, and the night of every one of those half marathons I gave myself the gift of an hour massage as my reward.

One random day in February 2022 I happened to click on the RunDisney registration page, and there was a freak registration opening for just the Princess Half Marathon, two weeks out. Not going to lie, I almost clicked the button to register, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to do just one of the three races, and my 2022 PTO was already all spoken for (one of which was for a long weekend family vacation to the Black Hills where I would be running (finally) the Deadwood Half Marathon after 3 years of having to cancel or defer for various reasons. Read more on this HERE.

That race was to be six weeks ago. I didn’t end up taking that trip or running that race because we would become first time grandparents AND welcome home a long awaited new puppy into our home in less than 48 hours during that exact same time.  Read more on this HERE.

So - get on with it right? Sorry - as I said, too many words… I know, I know… always.

On my work desk calendar I may have penciled in “Watch for Disney Princess Registration” during the third week of Aug. And somehow over the last year I had started following a few facebook and instagram RunDisney pages. Mostly because of the total cancelation of all races due to Covid 19…

On June 21, 2022 I sat down for a few minutes of scrolling before logging on to work. I randomly caught a few posts about the big excitement of registration opening at 10am that morning. Registration day? Why had I thought it was going to be in August sometime? I may have googled what time that meant for my time zone. I may have gone to the actual website registration page at 8:55am.

At 9:00am when it showed Registration Open, I may have clicked on the button.

It quickly popped up that I was in a holding queue to get into the registration page and the approximate wait time was 1 hour 15 minutes. I almost closed the browser page, what was I honestly even thinking. But I got busy with work and it was just spinning away in a window in my background.

After about 15 minutes I decided it was totally silly what I was doing and I needed to just stop, it was all giving me a stomachache. But this little person in my head kept saying - well, just leave it and if it’s meant to be it’s meant to be and if not, you are not out anything. Just take a chance, who knows.

An hour and twenty minutes later there was a little chime and a note popped up that I was being moved into the registration queue. FOR THE LOVE, what was I even doing?!?! I could already see that two of the four individual race options were already sold out. But the 10k/Half Challenge Race was still open.

So I clicked it.

I clicked the boxes and typed in the lines and clicked “add an additional race” and then clicked on the 5K race, which crazy enough was also still open.  Suddenly I was entering my credit card information. And my shaking hands of course typed something wrong. Denied. Ugh. I typed it all again. Denied again. Crap - it was a hefty chunk of change, was my card maxed out, I had no idea. Then I thought, shoot I bet it sold out before my card was processed and that why it’s denied.

I almost closed 'er all up right there out of frustration, but… I entered it all one.more.time.

And then I found myself sitting there looking at a Congratulations pop up window. Apparently I was registered. But I totally didn’t trust it or believe it. Everyone talked of how they got all through the registration process to have it sold from under them.

I went to my email. For the love, there were two registration confirmation emails from RunDisney in there.  One for the Princess 5K.  One for the Princess Challenge (10K & Half) I clicked on them. I went into my account. Ummmmmm. It showed two valid registrations for the Princess Half Marathon Weekend. I went back and clicked on the main registration page. Everything was showing as sold out. Everything.

I had no idea how, but I was officially registered to run the Princes. 5K, 10K, and Half Marathon three consecutive days in a row, live, in person, in Florida, at Disney.

No words. None. How does one process something so unexpected like this?

I had no idea what to even think or feel. And I was too scared to tell the hubs. He was not going to be impressed with this.

Within minutes I had put in my PTO request for work, and had it approved. I then messaged a few of my core peeps with the congratulations screenshot I had taken, all of them replying back that they didn’t even know I was going to try register. (Well, I didn’t know I was going to either when I woke up! I replied back to everyone)

And then I continued working as if something completely life altering had not just happened to me.

I would work until the end of the day. The hubs called on his way home and I was standing at the front door putting the puppers out. He was chatting and I was hearing nothing and I finally interrupted and said - Ummm, wanna know about my day? Apparently the RunDisney Princess weekend registration opened today. Pause. Ummmmm, wanna know how that went? Pause. Oh, the race thing you’ve talked about before…. Yes, that. I may have gotten registered. WHAT? For which one? Well, all three. What were you thinking?!? Why would you do a thing like that? Well….that’s kind of how the whole thing kind of works…

There was a little more small talk and I was then asked - This isn’t at DisneyLAND is it? Because I’m NOT going back to DisneyLAND! To which I replied - who said I was going to ask you to even be the one to go along with me?!? And no - it’s in Florida at DisneyWORLD (#eyeroll).

A few minutes later he arrived home and sat down on the couch. He asked about the actual dates, I told him I’d already had my PTO request approved, and that apparently according to social media chatter all the Disney resorts had already sold out before the registration opened, and then all the people who don’t get in cancel their reservations, so some will open back up.

He didn’t quite realize the vast immensity of it all apparently, as not many do.

I assumed it was end of conversation, and I put travel and lodging on my future to-do list and would deal with it all later. He surprised me a little later as he looked up from his phone announcing he was looking for flights and lodging. The flights were already pretty limited, and our first option actual sold out before we got through booking.

In the end, by the end of that night we had two plane tickets and a reservation at a resort and spa four miles from Disney. Race registration and airfare all non refundable. Again, what in the world was I doing?

Needless to say it was a very unexpected, very expensive day. It took a bit for it to all sink in. Still trying to wrap my mind around it all if I’m being honest. But, Lord willing, I will be getting to mark off one huge bucket list box in February 2023.

And I have one more very large announcement to add to this one!

I am going to be partnering with a very special non-profit, and raising money through this huge race opportunity. Mere’s Mission is a precious group of other loss moms who love and support all those who never signed up for their specific loss journey. I first took some huge brave big steps about a year after we lost Faith and reached out and connected with them. I dialed in to their support group, I took myself off mute, and I shared my story, our story, our Faith MaryJo’s story.

Years have continued. Relationships and friendships and mission opportunities have continued to grow since then, and one of the very first things I was thinking about after getting that Registration Confirmation was how I really wanted to run this for Faith, and for all the little ones out there we have said good bye to too soon, and for all the little ones yet to reach Heaven’s gates before their parents as the days and years continue.

Below I will give some brief information and links about Mera’s Mission, with a promise of more specific information and ways to donate as I get all those specific details rolling, and I would love to ask everyone to just open your hearts and be in prayer as to how you might be able to come alongside me as I partner with them while training and running in this dream race that I have carried in my heart for so long.

Mera’s Mission is a non profit, started by loss mom Kim Maimone in honor and memory of her precious little mermaid, Mera. The mission offers love and support during all the steps of loss, while recognizing all the different types of losses from embryo loss, early trimester loss, miscarriage, stillborn, and beyond. It is a safe place to connect, to cry, to reach out, to share, to listen, to walk alongside those on all their various journeys and stages of loss.

All donations will go directly to the mission to help them continue to offer support services, memory walks, a lending library of free books and resources, purchasing and donating Caring Cradles to hospitals, and many other areas of help for those needing a special touch during their times of need.

Get connected, find out more, pray for

and watch for more information to come on how you can help support:

Mera’s Mission 

Facebook: Mere's Mission Inc. click HERE

Instagram: @merasmission  click HERE

           Caring Cradles (Giving more time with a baby who has died): click HERE

#dreambigpricesschallenge

#runlikethewindbulleye

#faithmaryjo

#aswejourneytofaith

Previous blog post { To or Not To Run Like The Wind Bullseye } HERE

To or Not To #RunLikeTheWindBullseye

Three months ago I went through all the questions and inner drama about what I was supposed to do about this “little” half marathon I had initially signed up for in 2018 … and still haven’t gotten to run.

I spent too much time worrying over it all and decided I would train for it, I would require myself to do all the training outside, the hubs said we would turn the trip into our family vacation for the summer, and we both agreed we would make the final decision the week of the race, depending on the status of coming grandbaby.

Well… it’s officially race week. And… yet another decision about this gosh darn race needed to be made.

To post this update today, I am going to initially skip over what I’m hoping I will someday be able to go back to, as there so much going on that I haven’t fully written about yet. Some of it I’m hoping to be able to figure out how to put words to and share, and some I already know that I won’t be sharing on this platform, most of which are job and adoption related, which I want to honor and protect.

Click HERE for the post on this half marathon full story and my decision to train or not to.

I did start training. And the Iowa weather was anything be cooperative. It was a very cold, very wet, very windy spring here. Getting out there was a struggle for me. My back started bothering again, and my ankle, and my pride was taking a huge beating as my pace and distance just was nowhere close to where I have been in the past (and I have never been anything speedy or strong.)

Physical stress put on my body from the training, combined with mental stress being piled on through various layers of intense emotional situations left me the last few weeks basically existing in survival mode. I was waiting for the arrival of first grandbaby girl, and found myself dealing with some significant PTSD issues from my past births and losses, and the more I was aware of it and the more my mind got out of control, the more mad I became at myself, which only spiraled things to be even worse.

There was also the emotional rollercoaster of the puppy we were finally placed with after a two year wait, only to get a follow up call three days later that she had passed away. We processed and decided we would wait one more year, leave our names on the list one more year.

Somewhere during all of this, between the stress, and the weather, and the back pain, I had really no choice but to start modifying my training. I had to start splitting the miles on the longer runs between my treadmill and my elliptical, and finally gave up the fight altogether and went back to my previous outdoor minimum running temperature rule and tried to convince myself I wasn’t a failure for all that. We would eventually make it back to the lake for a few weekends, and some of those early morning lake runs were just so so hard. Any joy and fun previously experienced was no longer there, no matter how beautiful the sunrise might have been.

And then we would get the first of two life changing calls.

The first was a very unexpected puppy placement from a different breeder, one we had first been approved at three years ago, but we weren’t currently on their waiting list. At the last minute someone backed out on a female puppy – and if we wanted, we could claim her. Only catch – we would need to pick her up to bring her home within THE WEEK and we would not have any pick of the liter. Everyone would pick theirs up first and we would be the last. There were brown pups, and there were black pups… all we were guaranteed was she would be a female.

The hubs would eventually decide that yes was our answer and we were suddenly thrown from puppy loss and continued wait to … puppy placement and almost immediate pickup.

And then the call that our precious granddaughter had been born. She was alive and healthy and mom was alive and healthy, and my trauma brain was suddenly starting to almost see a little bit of light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel I’d been traveling in for quite some time.  And I was officially a grandma, a grandma after my own infant loss. God didn't grant us the rainbow baby we had prayed for... but he would grant us the gift of perfect, little, beautiful granddaughter.

This did bring along a freight train of emotions, that would leave me navigating through the most beautiful and amazing and sad and hard few days of my life. So many emotions. So many emotions. So much love. So much sadness. So much joy. So much ache. So much anxiety. So much fear. So much pride. So much extreme. (Perhaps there will be more on this later if there are words to be found…)

And just like that – our family grew by ten little toes and four floppy paws within a matter of less than 48 hours.

And my mom would celebrate her birthday and my brother and nephew would fly in from South Carolina to visit for the holiday weekend.

And in a blur, we woke up and we were suddenly standing at the start of this week, and needing to make a decision on our vacation, and on the race.

The hubs immediately said he would back out of the vacation and stay home with the puppy. I did inquire if the hotel took dogs, and they did for an extra daily fee – but the last thing I wanted to attempt was to vacation with two dogs that probably wouldn’t be getting along and one of which was an eight week old puppy with zero training of anything except being cute.

So this left me with the decision if I still go with Isaiah, or if I back out of the race all together. Isaiah and I were signed up to run the 5K on Saturday together and I would run the half marathon Sunday. But the half would require me to be gone for hours while being bussed to the start and through the entire time of the actual race, and I knew I could not leave him alone. Not that I didn’t trust him, frankly, I’ve stopped trusting the entire world right now.

I had a double digit run scheduled to do at the lake and told Brian I was going to try figure out my decision on that run. At about mile eight I was given my answer, as I was reminded of an earlier conversation I had just had with my big kiddos about if my son should travel several hours away to attend a large revival he felt God was calling him to attend – and leaving a due-any-minute wife at home…. Everyone was telling him not to go, but they clearly felt God was saying go.

I had made a small side comment that if in the end he didn’t end up going, that he needed to not feel bad – to not feel that he wasn’t being obedient to his call. Because maybe it was all only about being faithful in the journey of saying yes.

Abraham was given a son after all those years of wait, and God would then ask him to sacrifice that only son. Can you even imagine that? But he remained faithful, and with all the tears and heartbreak, would bring that beloved son to be sacrificed as the Lord has asked him to. But that story wasn’t about the actual sacrifice, it was about the faithful journey to that moment. I told my son that sometimes it's how we need to look at the whole picture of what's being asked of us. God's calling for him to "go" would still be used and shown to all those watching while they faithfully just followed through with the plan and prep leading up to the actual moment, even if the final answer wasn't actually to end up "going." 

On my run God would whisper this conversation back to me, that this training and this half marathon were maybe kind of the same thing. I said yes to the initial calling. I said yes through the entire time of this training. And for whatever reason, I was needing to merely remain faithful to the journey to the commitment… even if all that training would never be used to reach the actual final destination. 

But then I would also weave together a possible plan to still do the races, but I could modify the dates and taking a friend along, a last minute ask for her to get off work and shuffle her life around to jump into my plans. I was very torn between knowing we would have such a great time if we could actually make it happen, and knowing it really wasn’t fair of me to even think to ask.

I of course did ask, because she was also my sounding board of all my attempted processing.

She listened to all the options, all the thoughts, all the crazy brain things… and simply asked what deep inside was my heart really telling me to do. Which of course I already knew the answer to.

I already knew I needed to cancel, and to be honest I also knew I wanted to cancel. The 2018 Sara that signed up for that half marathon was not the same 2022 Sara sitting on my bed having to make this decision, again. That Sara hadn’t fallen and wrecked her ankle. Hadn’t had a back injury and battled through six months of recovery. Hadn’t had a positive covid test for three weeks straight only months earlier. Hadn’t gone through the level of emotional trauma that she was currently going through during this specific time and training.

One comment would strike me as our conversation continued, on top of that clear epiphany from my run the day before.

If I was to honestly take into account the current state of my physical and mental health, was doing this race really worth the possibility (or probability) of getting injured again? I would be of no good to anyone if I was down flat on my back again for six months. I would not be able to help or hold anyone including my kiddos, my husband, my grandbaby, or a new puppy in our house.

But I did not want to admit failure. I did not want to be a quitter. I did not want to own up to the fact that I – for the fourth year straight, would have to yet again not run this one stupid race. Well, I guess they will still be sending our race packets to us after the race so we can still do it all virtually… but it's not the same thing, no matter how much I try convince myself otherwise.

No, we will not be vacationing in the Black Hills this week. No I will not be running a 5K with my teenager. No I will not be running the half marathon I have been training for for the last three months (for the last four years).

I knew that my answer needed to be a no. I knew it. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

But the decision has been made. All the cancelation calls have been made. The race, the hotel, the single dog boarding reservation for our previously single dog. The grandbaby is here, alive and healthy. The new puppy is here, alive and healthy… and really, from the very beginning of my initial decision to keep the race/vacation plans and start the training three months ago, I have to remind myself that we had in fact said would make a final decision the week of … 

We just had no idea then it wouldn’t just be the arrival of a grandbaby we would need to take into consideration. God would also be coordinating a new member to add to our own family and household.

Now to simply continue to process internally the fact that this NO is actually the BEST YES answer for all of us in this exact moment in our journey.

I trained. I processed. I prayed. I cried. I was crushed. I was relieved.

I’ve decided this week my body doesn’t need any more punishment for all it hasn’t done and all it can’t do. I don't need to prove anything to anyone, including myself. My body simply needs my love and my grace, not my condemnation and frustration right now.

And as so many other things in my life, it’s so easy to say and something entirely different to live out.

Previous Blog Post { Not Growing By Four Paws, Again } HERE

Next Blog Post { Dream Big Princess Challenge ll } HERE

Not Growing By Four Paws… Again…

A few years ago we put our name on the list for a purebred Yorkie female puppy.

Two years later, one unexpected day in August we got a message that three female puppies had just been born and we were next on the list if we were still interested. We ended up saying saying yes, and we didn’t tell anyone. The weekend I went to run my first ever in person half marathon, we stopped to pick which puppy of the liter we would like. Well, she chose me and I had no complaints. A few weeks later my mom and I traveled five hours to pick her up.

And she was not healthy.

And in the end I would leave her there and drive away without her. I would stop at the covered bridge that was in that town, take a few photos, dry my tears, and drive home without our much anticipated newest member of the family. Again.

You can read more of that story HERE.

And then we flew off to Florida a month later for vacation, and as we were driving home at some crazy late hour in utter exhaustion, we would find out that that little puppy was still sick, still available, and really just needing to be adopted and into a home so she could hopefully get better. The only kicker – they had someone that was leaving at 6am the following morning and could drop her off at our house on their way through, and we had to make basically an immediate decision. In the car, in our exhaustion, while trying to talk about it without actually talking about it, because Isaiah was in the backseat. Thank goodness for headphones.

Long story short… the next morning our little #piperjoy would arrive. She still has some health issues, but… she is ours and we are hers and we love her to bits!

Fast forward a year, and this time it was Brian wanting to put our name on the waiting list for a specific female hunting dog that isn’t readily available. This one was a little more than just say – “hey, put us on your list…” This one involved forms and paperwork and application approvals and deposits and proof of being a hunter, and photos of our family and house and yard and other pets…

And from the very start I stated it was very similar to what we did when we went through the adoption process for Isaiah.

After a while we were approved and chosen at two places and we decided which place we would officially choose to put our name on, and we officially became an adoptive dog family in waiting. And just like with Isaiah we said, well, it's in God's hands and we'll see how long it takes.

And then we journeyed through covid. And then the following spring we found out we were the first ones that didn’t make the puppy call list for that year. Placing us first on the list for this spring. And again we discussed contacting a different breeder, but again went back to our adoption journey, and just like then, we decided to not change, and continue to wait, and continue to trust God's timing.

I guess I need to stop here and admit that this is a larger sized dog, and a hunting dog, and well, I really didn’t want to get one, and I did not want it in the house and I did not want to go through all the crazy work of training a puppy. But I told myself it was going to be Brian’s dog, it would be in the garage and it would not be my worry.

And I lie through my teeth. I have never met a dog I have not completely fallen in love with. We all know this. But I did continue to firmly say I did not want this dog. Period.

And then this spring Brian told me he’d gotten a call from the breeder. Oh, that’s right… this “might” be “the year” of the puppy. (#ugh i sighed under my breath) I kind of laughed that it had been two years… the same amount of time we’d been on our adoption wait list before being chosen by our birthmom.

And then a call came and Brian looked at his phone and did the loud whisper – “It’s the dog guy!! This is maybe THE CALL!” and my eyes got big and one hand covered my mouth while my other covered my heart.

Listening to him as I stood in our kitchen watching him take that call and hearing… “Oh shoot, but it’s ok. That is just the way nature works. We know all about failed pregnancies and infertility, it’s just part of life…” It was an update that it didn’t look like the dog had been successfully breed.

Well, if that didn’t tug at my mom heart strings just a little. And I mean of course – why would something in our family journey actual be easy (and fertile)? lol

And then another call came that maybe she was, the pregnancy tests just weren’t consistent. There would be an ultrasound in a month to confirm. And wouldn’t you know it… A confirmed pregnancy. But with a small liter.

It was all getting a little too much for me to have to keep trying to emotionally process. All this for a puppy I didn’t “actually” even want, right?

Life was busy, and a few weeks passed and there was another phone call. And this time I was sitting on a chair in the living room watching Brian take the call, and again hearing… “Oh I am so sorry, that is so sad…” catching bits and pieces, not enough to know what was actually happening but enough to know it wasn’t something good.

And then he hung up. The puppies had been born the day before. There were three puppies. Two were stillborn. One was born alive. It was a female. It was ours.

And Isaiah was in the chair and afterwards I said - "oh that was THE CALL buddy! And it was kind of just like when we got THE CALL about YOU!"

But oh for the love! I had tears and all the extreme emotions. And kept just thinking, “Why is this always the kind of story of how everything goes in our family?” But we also couldn’t get over the fact that there was one puppy. One. A female, that had lived. And she was ours. Oh what a story.

Except, that wasn’t actually the end of our story. Yet again, two days later we would get another call and find out that our family would in fact NOT be growing by four paws, again.

Our little puppy… had passed away when she was three days old.

And for the person who said she really didn’t want the puppy in the first place, I was absolutely devastated. Devastated.

Why would God do this to us again? Why was this the answer yet again? And I found myself moving very quickly from grief and loss to anger. Anger at God for delivering this news into our lap yet again.

I rolled my eyes with a bitter little laugh. Damnit! Why?!? I mean really, WHY?

I can’t be the mom who got to take her long awaited daughter home after all those years of infertility and longing and prayers and doctoring and waiting. And now I can’t be the mom to drive to another town (a town with a covered bridge at that - how ironic, right – AND it’s a bridge I haven’t been to yet and couldn’t wait to get the call to travel to come get the puppy) and get to pick up a cute squirrely wiggly little puppy to take home and officially welcome to our family.

Why in the world did God keep granting this reality to us?

A few weeks later we found ourselves having to stay in the town where I'd driven to initially pick up our #piperjoy. It was bittersweet thinking about that trip and the ache and tears of driving away without her, even though six weeks later she would still end up joining our family unexpectedly. I got up to early to run through that covered bridge the following morning, and got a #pupdate from back home from my mom with a picture of her hanging out on the top of their couch waiting for us to come home.

While we were struggling through the reality of this story, I had said I wasn’t going to share this story. I wasn’t going to write about it.  It was just a stupid puppy, right?

And yet, as we drove those five hours again to that town, and as I was on the trail to that covered bridge and got out to take pictures of it, just like I had mere minutes after we’d driven away without the puppy we had just driven five hours to pick up… I couldn’t help but feel that I did in fact need to try find the words to share this.

It’s just so an “us” thing. So many parallel similarities to our adoption and wait with Isaiah, and also so many parallel similarities to our wait and loss with Faith.

And none of it makes sense, and none of it was easy, and yet all of it was God ordained for us in our journey, as we have simply been asked to trust and remain faithful in our journey to faith.

Previous Blog Post { Faith Week } HERE

Next Blog Post { To or Not To #RunLikeTheWindBullseye } HERE

Faith Week

We have officially again entered Faith Week.

At least I have.

Everyone in our house does this month, this week, this thing a little differently.  Since day one we have all navigated this Journey to Faith differently.  Yes, we're on the journey together, but we are not always standing at the same place on the road together.  Truth be told, we rarely are.  And that's ok.

We all process differently.  We all remember differently.  We all honor differently.  We all grieve differently.  We have all been affected differently.  And that has become a delicate and intricate little dance we've all lived within now for the last seven years.

To be honest, some of us might not even talk about her audibly this week.  Some of us will process quietly, inwardly, silently... while some will celebrate her a little more boldly, outwardly. And I've stopped being hurt, confused, and offended by that.

She was one child, who affected all of us in her own special and unique way.

Six years ago we celebrated her first birth day on Easter morning.  We didn't feel like being with people or extended family.  We didn't feel like celebrating Jesus's amazing resurrection.  We took a little trip and we stayed away.  Not everyone understood this choice, but it was what we felt we needed to do.

Somehow multiple years have continued to pass.  Some years I've had people with me as I visit the cemetery, some years I have gone alone.  The invite has always been open, and I'm never quite sure who will join me and who won't.  Some years I have tears as I stand there, some years I don't.  Some years the tears have hit before, some years the tears haven't come until later.

For myself, I have always gone into this week with a heavy heart.  I truly believe that my body remembers and my body grieves, along with the grieving and memory within my mind and soul. All of me remembers the ache, the pain, the loss, the heartache.  I grieve all that isn't and won't be.  I try to allow myself to feel all that, and I try to also attempt to find something positive within the story as well. Every year I make a little cake of some sort, and almost every year I have run some kind of virtual race in her memory and honor.

To me, running signifies pain, determination, grit, overcoming, wanting to quit over and over but not allowing myself to.  Preparing, training, holding on, hanging on, and enduring the horrible until the end is reached. Living through it, surviving it, and then walking away and being able to talk and share about it after.

And truth be told, I think I also have trained and run something long, hard, and difficult every year as a punishment to the body that I feel has left me disappointed over and over again by what it can't do and hasn't done.  This year I am working on that mindset, so I actually don't even know what distance I'm going to even run yet, but I know it will not be anything long or double digit milage.

Most years I get a pink rose, like the one we had at her funeral. Most years I get a balloon or two, and I will take everything along with my race metal and leave it at the cemetery for the day.  I bring water and a cloth to clean the stone off. Some years there's been snow on the ground, some years not. We can't leave anything there overnight any more since they've changed the cemetery rules in the town where we live (except over Memorial Day, then you get a week I believe).

So I always drive away knowing that I will have to be back later that day to pick it all back up.  Some times this leaves me happy, and sometimes it just leaves me sad and annoyed.

But yes, here we are yet again. And I'm not sure I have anything left, or surely anything new to post about... Is there anything more or different this year than all the years previous? I doubt it.  So this will probably be my only post this year as we inch closer and closer to that infamous date in our lives.

The day we said hello and goodbye all at the same time. It left a hole if all of our hearts, and left all of us clinging to a differently outlook, a different hope, a different view of life and love.  It's brought us together and ripped us apart all at the same time.  It's all the things and none of the things all at the same time.

This week will I will drink from all my Faith themed mugs, wear all my Faith themed shirts, prepare for a remembrance run on Sunday, make a little cake that all of us will look at because I will set it in the middle of the table, but I'm not sure who will all partake in celebrating and eating it.

And that's ok.

I'm doing what I need to do.  Everyone else will also do what they need to do.  And that's ok.  It's simply our Journey to Faith, together and alone.

2016 * 2017 * 2018 * 2019 * 2020 * 2021

Previous Blog Post { I'm Not Quite Sure What I'm Doing } HERE

Not Quite Sure What I'm Doing

I'm not quite sure what I'm doing, but I think I may have started actual in person, outside, half marathon training again this week.

I haven't run outside at home since before covid.  The world just became a little too scary, so I retreated to my basement every morning. I have a treadmill, elliptical, bike, BB membership, and recently added a rowing machine. I mean, why in the world would I venture outside if I didn't have to?!

Two years ago I took a serious vow that I was done racing any in person live races. Anywhere. Anytime. Period.  I had been signed up and training for many different things in the spring of 2020 and everything was covid canceled.  I would run a few of them virtually (in my basement) and I have signed up online for a few more virtual races since then, but I have continued to not allow myself to re-enter the streets and crowds and anxiety of in person racing.

I'm not even sure why, it's just something I said in 2020.  I'm getting older (and slower) is my main reason.

But there is this one little caveat. The Mickelson Trail Half Marathon. Ugh.

I eagerly signed up for this for the first time in 2018 (for the 2019 race). I would need one day off work, the day after, to get back home. And while I could have probably gotten it off, there were others in the department that ended up also off over that timeframe, and I knew I could not in good conscience have that day off.  So I didn't run it.

2020 I was signed up for the second time. Covid canceled.  It was decided we could defer it 2021 or 2022.  I deferred to 2021.

2021 would be the wedding weekend of my son and beautiful daughter-in-law. There was no way I could travel six hours away for a race the day after the wedding.  They graciously allowed me to defer one last time to 2022.

2022 is the current due date of our first grand baby. You can't even make this kind of stuff up, and I'm laughing at God's great humor as I type this.

The due date changed from the original date they had thought, and it would be months before I realized that the updated due date was smack dab in the middle of a family vacation half marathon race weekend. My initial reaction was to freak out, ok - not actually freak out, but I was suddenly faced with having to make another decision about this race.

More than anything I wanted to just say I wasn't going to do it, cancel the trip, cancel the hotel reservations, leave the PTO on the work calendar and call it good.  No training. No outdoor running. No traveling. No pre-race anxiety. No live in person race surrounded by hundreds/thousands of other (faster) runners. No new coffee mug to earn.

But... what if... what if the baby was born a week early? What if the baby was born a week late? What if... and we all know the avenues my lossmom mind would immediately go to and I had to just take a breath and walk away for a while. 

I counted 12 weeks out from race day and circled the date on my calendar. I would have to make a decision by then.  Would I start training? Would I cancel the whole thing?

That circled date arrived a week and a half ago.  I went around and around in my head of all the things I didn't want to do, most of which was go outside in the cold and dark and attempt to start training... But, that's exactly what I did.

Outside running is way more difficult for me than inside. Mentally and physically. I've suffered a large back injury a year ago. I had a long go with covid a few months ago. I'm closer now to 50 than I am to 40.  And I was never a strong and fast runner when I first started running in my early 40's.

I have decided to leave the hotel reservations. I have decided to seriously start the training, with all training to be done outside.  We will decide the day before we are scheduled to leave if we will leave, or if we will cancel. We are good with this plan, and excited to see what journey God will lead us on over the next twelve plus weeks.

Will I make it through all twelve weeks of training? I honestly don't know. I am through week one, and I am already dealing with some pretty intense back issues, so I'm just not sure.  Will I race in person and cross the finish line of one last live race? I have no idea.  Will the baby be early and I will be that crazy proud runner grandma talking about it to every person standing next to me in the line up coral?  Hopefully!

So for now, I guess I can only leave you with a "Well, tune in to find out!" promise.

#runlikethewindbullseye #motherrunner #runningnonrunner #halfmarathontraining #dohardthings

Previous blog post { Yet Another March } HERE

Next blog post { Faith Week } HERE

Yet Another March

I am standing in the middle of yet another March.

I still have not lost the weight.
I still have not cleaned the house.
I still have not magically swooped into my own life and Mary Poppins myself into anything great and acceptable.

Every year for as long as I can remember March was that “goal month” … the birthday month, the anniversary month, the crap it’s-almost-shorts-and-swimsuit-season-again month.

Birthdays are just the natural go-to goal date for most I would think, next to New Year’s. Well, for me anyway, it’s always been my birthday. The goal weight, the hopes, the dreams, the long away goals and desires we’ve allowed to settle within us, circled in red on that one special day of “celebration.”

And yet, every year, somehow, the days continue to pass, the weeks, the months, and suddenly February has done its usual “totally-rushed-by” and boom… it’s March.

March. Again. I’m just shaking my head. Again

Oh the state of my life. The state of my house. The state of my health.

Actually, no… wait a second! My fingers just automatically typed the words that my brain was whispering (hollering!) into my ears… but really… really is the state of my life, my house, my health THAT bad?

Or am I just currently in a full season of “living”?

Perhaps we are just currently in the season of “living” in our house with all the people and pets, with all our things (special and non-special) scattered throughout the rooms and surfaces as we go about “living” our lives during this time of work, school, parenting our kids, parenting our parents, appointments, adulting (this is the word I have coined for you know… ALL THE THINGS that have to get done… bills, laundry, essentials shopping, cleaning, cooking, friendshipping (yeah, not a word, I see that, but oh well, welcome to my vocabulary)). And getting gas for crying out loud. I hate getting gas and I don’t even know why. #adultingishard

So, how do we embrace these busy, chaotic, hectic, unsettled seasons in our lives? How do we allow ourselves to slow down and to give ourselves, our families, our homes, our bodies the grace they surely need and deserve?

It is such an unbelievably hard concept to hold isn’t it? Slow. Grace. And why? Why and how did we all end up chasing this unattainable state of perfection and contentment?! I know it can’t just be me that feels this way.

Although… I do wonder if not everyone has grouped together “perfection” and “contentment” in the same way as I have. For some reason in my mind I have this belief that I won’t achieve contentment until I have achieved perfection. And really, contentment and perfection probably aren’t even anything anyone can actually ever “achieve” this side of Heaven.

So we are (or at least I am) always always always feeling three days and ten steps behind (and that's on the good days)… all.the.time.

And then we find ourselves thinking… There’s never enough help. There’s never enough gratitude. There’s never enough recognition. But you know, those are all outward expectations we are putting on the world and people around us, while turning it internally and telling ourselves that surely we aren’t receiving these things because we just simply aren’t good enough.

But all of it really is just the narratives we are allowing to play in our minds. Every one of us have grown up being influenced by so many different factors. Parents, friends, environments, social status, economic status, school systems, jobs, marriages, children… Every single little thing has helped mold us and meld us into these individual people that we all are.

And we really are all just wonderful individuals. We are! No matter who has told us differently, or what has affected us to make us believe it about ourselves differently.

We are created in the image of God, to love and create, to be given gifts and talents, to be influencers to the world around us. And yet somehow, in all of that creativity and influencing of others, we also allow others to influence us… what we think, what we feel, what we want, what we don’t want…

And somehow that perfect person that God intricately created gets a little blurred and a little bruised, by both true reality and by the perceived reality within ourselves. And it’s just so hard to keep the world in front of us, and the world within us in focus, in balance, in harmony.

We get tired, we get sick, we get weary, we get discouraged, and suddenly the lines all begin to blur and the truth and the un-truth get a little mixed within each other. And the older we get, the more tightly interwoven that can all become if we don’t stop and try to take the step back to try see it, try unravel it, even just a little.

I am enough. You are enough. We are, even though we don’t feel it and don’t allow ourselves to fully recognize or embrace it. It’s just easier to live thinking we are “less than” than to try wade through the mess of finding our own path to enough-ness.

I am not there, but I am aware of it… And while we cannot control our first thoughts that pop into our minds – about anything; those first thoughts about ourselves, those first thoughts about others, those first thought about situations within the moment…

No, we can’t control them. But we can control the next thought, and the ones after that.

We can stop ourselves and try flip it, change it, stop it, redirect it. All things so much easier said than done, this I know. But it’s one of the things I’m trying to consciously work on in this full season of "living" that I'm in right now.

Do you have a goal, a red circle around a certain date on the calendar? Or if not on the calendar on your wall, or in your phone, I’m betting you have one somewhere inside you. And I want to tell you YES – Yes you can. You can! You can do it, meet it, crush whatever goal or dream you have. I believe in you and I want to be your biggest cheerleader.

But you know what, you also don’t have to. You don’t. Or you don’t have to do it by that big red circled date, as long as you are choosing to just try move forward. And forward is forward, no matter the speed.

You are enough just as you are, and you are capable of achieving and doing anything you put your heart and soul into. We all are. We all are a both / and.

We are enough, even when we aren’t all the way there… yet.

Previous blog post { This Little Box of Tissues } HERE

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This Little Box of Tissues

Ok, today I think I'm ready to talk about this little box of tissues.

This box of tissues is almost seven years old and has been under the seat of my car this entire time. It started out in my hands on the longest drive home in a red minivan, then moved to a red escape, and is currently under the seat in my silver escape.

My husband hastily emptied the contents of my red escape before selling it, and I found it sitting on top of the garbage can. My heart gave a small lurch, and I snatched it up. And then my heart gave an even larger contraction as I looked down at it in my hands. That hospital visitor sticker with a room number written on with a sharpie marker looking back at me with its sad and smudged little life.

Every time I see it, I think – throw that damn thing out!
But I cannot. I just can’t.

Truth be told, I’m not even quite sure if I could use them. Maybe for an extreme emergency situation… a bloody nose perhaps with no fast food napkins in sight. In a time of tears, yes, that would probably pass. But a sniffle, a snotless sneeze, ketchup on a finger, probably not.

I will look at you and say – Sorry, we got nothing! Knowing I would carry that lie with me to the line of judgement and confession at the pearly gates when my time comes.

That little box of tissues was on the bedstand beside that damn hospital bed I was in for less than twenty-four hours. A labor and delivery bed, in the labor and delivery wing of the big hospital in the city an hour and a half away from the small town we lived in.

The labor and delivery floor where all the other babies that day were born alive.

But not ours. No, not ours. Before we had even arrived we already knew she was not going to be born alive.

Hours earlier we had gotten the anticipated, yet still unexpected and totally horrible words… “I’m sorry, but there’s no heartbeat.”

We knew at some point it was coming, but we had no idea when. Would it be before full term, would it be during the delivery, would it miraculously be maybe an hour or two after her birth before she would be snatched away into the heavens? The million dollar question that haunted me and kept me from sleeping, kept me from sanity and all normal rational during that entire time of my life.

I heard those words, and as “prepared” as I thought I was, I was not at all prepared, and I was not ready. But I am more than sure NO ONE is prepared or ready when their child is placed into the arms of Jesus.

I’ve written about that moment before in great detail. (Click HERE in case you’re interested in knowing our whole story) and I don’t think right now I’m at a point where I can really go beyond just looking at this box of tissues, and just knowing of its existence beneath me over the last seven years.

I used those tissues when we first arrived as I cried in anger, fear, and utter anguish. I used those tissues during and after delivery. And I would clutch those damn tissues as we walked out of our room after being dismissed, turning down a hallway full of huge massive photos all over the wall of healthy babies. I wasn’t in a wheelchair, I walked. I wasn’t holding a tiny pink newborn tightly wrapped and packed in a car seat. Our baby had gone home earlier with our local funeral home director.

No, I didn’t hold a baby. I held… a freaking box of tissues as I cried the entire way out to our car. And all the way home. And from the hospital, we drove directly to the funeral home.

I would use those tissues a few days later as I drove from our house to the cemetery to say our goodbyes.

And then, I stopped using those tissues, but I knew they were under my seat. I knew they said “Angel Soft” (oh the irony, right?!?!) and I knew they held my husbands visitor sticker from when he left the hospital to get something to eat, because he was not allowed to order anything to our room “before” her birth. And after being told by a doctor we had never met before that we should expect to not deliver until sometime on Sunday (this was Friday night at 5pm) he had left to get something to eat. And you know what, my water broke when he was gone and stuck in line at some Taco Bell… and nothing went as planned after that.

Wait, nothing went as planned for any of it, I do say with a small smile on my face.

No, nothing went as planned. Nothing. Nothing went as we had hoped. Nothing went as we had prayed for… begged for… pleaded for…. ugly cried for.

And yet, for whatever reason, it was exactly as God had planned. #Godisgood #evenif. (Some days are easier than others to type / say / believe these words.)

So now, I watch with a smile and tiny tear as the children’s choir sing up front in our church and think, oh Faith would have been up there, in her pink sparkly dress and shoes, her red hair and blue eyes… but she’s not.

And I’m going to say it’s ok, because it is… but it isn’t. But there is not one thing we can do differently about it, because it was God’s intended plan for her life, and for ours. #aswejourneytofaith

So instead of driving our little one to church early on mornings like this, I simply drive to church with a little box of “Angel Soft” tissues under my seat, a box that’s getting tattered and torn, (kind of how I picture the state of my heart some days) that I can’t bring myself to throw away, because that one little tiny thing was there when our one little tiny girl celebrated her birth day, and it held my hand as we said both hello and goodbye.

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