9 Years Ago

Today the world is changing rapidly. The virus is captivating attention, causing fear and creating change on even an hourly basis. This is an event and a time that we will all remember the rest of our lives. 

  However, while there is seriousness to this topic, I find myself really wanting to talk about something besides the virus. Continuing life as normal as possible, whatever normal is. Normal changes rapidly, honestly.  Colombia is typically my go-to topic of choice as I continue growing and learning. Writing helps me process what I'm learning and share those lessons with others. However, today I want to write about my mom. 

 I have written countless stories about my mom and it often seems there may not be one left to share. Yet somehow, it feels there will never be ones I run out of, if that makes any sense. Today is a day that changed my world 9 years ago. Today, March 20, is the day that my mom went home to heaven. I have written many times about what that day was like. Today it is easy to recall the day as if I were living it out again. The details of those moments are ones forever engrained as part of my story. 

 

Today I watched a video play back of what we put together for mom's funeral. That's the story I want to talk about today. Yes, I get sad many times missing my mom. The ache of not having her when I am frustrated about work to call and share is an ache that physically hurts at times in my chest.  The tears fall when I feel sad and cannot call her. The joy I have when I get to do tasks I love, such as work on the foundation or travel to Colombia or plan a marathon - that joy that I cannot sit over coffee with my mom and tell her all about it does create heartache at times. And I allow for those moments because that is part of grief. I visited the cemetery today and let myself cry there. 

  

 But this moment, this is a moment to remember her with joy, too. The video brought back a lot of memories I hadn't thought about in a long time with her. First of all, my mom used to sing a song to me as a child each night before bed. Then she sang it to the grandkids as they were babies and growing up. She sang the song "I have decided to follow Jesus".  Mom lived out that decision in her every day life, reading her Bible, praying for others, inviting people over, sacrificing financially all the time when there was little to sacrifice. On the video, the grandkids, who mostly were fairly young, sang the song to begin the video of mom. 

 The video was a compilation of photos of mom's life. She grew up in Minnesota, where winter is brutal. But mom enjoyed winters. (She did not pass that on to me!) She was Sweedish, after all. There were photos of her ice fishing. There were also photos of her fishing in the summer time. One photo was from a time she took my dad up to the lake for a visit and he had fish as well. I can't ever really remember a time of my dad eating fish, let alone fishing. But there he was in the photo, grinning like a boy in love. That was their relationship... love and laughter. And doing things the other enjoyed. 

 There was a photo of mom and dad playing around like a cowboy saying "stick 'em up" (maybe today that is a rarity, but there was a time that was a game). Dad had a handkerchief around his face, mom, turning her head in laughter. Photos from their wedding, photos from our family growing up, all 4 of us kids. We didn't have many vacations, but there was a photo of us in Texas, where mom's parents lived for a time. I remember that vacation, where we traveled the 6 of us in the Chevy Impala hours and hours to arrive at Texas. I was very young, but I even recall on that trip crossing the border (on foot) into Mexico and visiting a little touristy area. 

  In the video was a photo of mom holding a trash can with a big bow on it. My mom was so simple and the smallest things made her smile. That was what she wanted for Christmas- a trash can. So that year we sent her on a treasure hunt for that can and once she finally got there, she seriously grinned as silly as the photo shows. 

  

 She loved children and children loved her. She taught Sunday School at church for nearly 40 years. She was an education major at Cedarville (College) University but chose to stay at home once she had children. The video has many photos of her holding my kids, my sister's kids and even other babies. You can see her attentively playing games with them. And always, always she had a smile. She liked to be silly, wearing tea party hats or making funny faces or telling stories that made everyone laugh. 

 Watching the video again reminded me of many stories of her life. She was the youngest of 7, with two sets of twins in that family. She was teased and the stories go on about the tricks they liked to play on her. However, they loved her fiercely and I really enjoy seeing the photos of her with her 6 siblings and how they even hovered a bit over her. 

 You see, while I feel I have shared many stories, the memories will always surface with more. Writing about them makes me smile about her instead of cry. Sharing about her life keeps her legacy alive. She is gone and I miss her fiercely. But her words and her memories burn inside me, keeping the smile that she had every day as a part of me as well. 

 People will often comment on my smile, when they see it genuinely, that it is a wonderful feature of mine. I got that from mom. Oh, my dad loves to laugh just as much... but the smile I have I contribute to my mom. 

 I miss her today, but I miss her every day. I hope that I never forget these stories and that we keep telling them and one day my kids tell them. I can hear her laugh when I see these photos. 

 9 years ago today I said goodbye to my mom. But she will forever be a part of my story that I will keep telling. 

Cartagena- Rich in Culture, Full of Love

The world is turning a little upside down right now and all of us likely feel a little out of sorts. However, I don't want to focus on the reasons for that in this blog. I write today to return to the stories of how my life got turned upside down when I became a part of Colombia... when I got wrecked as I wrote about in my last blog.

 This was my 7th trip there. Some have asked me if it becomes old or if I grow numb to what I see. My answer is no... and I hope that I never do. Each time I travel to Colombia, when I return to my home away from home, when I am wrapped in loving arms from my family in another country, my heart and eyes get opened in some new way. I get stretched, I learn, I cry, I laugh,  I am touched, and I am changed... every time.

 I can't figure out yet whether to capture in words in this blog my experiences day by day or just list out some of the more interesting ones little by little. This trip was full of "first" experiences for me, even though it was my 7th time there... This trip was a little different for me in that I took with me 3 others, James, Isaac, and Andy. James and Andy are part of then board of Footprints with Hope, the foundation we've established to begin doing deeper work in the villages/cities of Colombia. (our fourth board member could not go with us.) Isaac is the son of Andy. It was my first time doing that. Isaac and Andy have a way of story telling that can be deep in moments which touch the heart but can also be completely hilarious. We laughed a lot on this trip, thanks to their humor.

 I'll share the trip day by day and preface my "first" experiences with those words. Seriously, a blog does not do justice to these experiences.

 There is a first time for everything....
   1. When we finally got through the long line of customs, and to the counters, it was taking James forever to move through customs. James has been there as many times as I have, but each time he has only visited the same village. This was going to be his first of visiting other locations. But from the get-go, we called him the "problem child" on the trip. (He wasn't really, but every trip has one, so we gave that to him).  We all passed through customs quickly, but I noticed that James was taking a very long time at his counter.
 James does not speak Spanish, so I asked my lady who passed me through if I could go help him, as he'd been there some time. She said yes and when I moved over to his counter, the man checking him in to the country would not let him pass through because he didn't have a reservation number for the hotel where we were staying. Well, this was a first. They usually only ask for the name of the hotel. Props to the man for doing his job diligently, but... I could not understand this when the others of us passed through without that. well, in the end, the man called the hotel and confirmed that James was with me  and we were allowed through. Not a bad experience, just a little weird. We moved on for our luggage.

 2. First time for me to arrive to the carousel for luggage for it not to be there. Andy and Isaac had been waiting on us to come through, so they informed us. I spoke with the man at the carousel and was informed we had to go to the Delta office. Well, another first for me. Lesson here: always have good clothes in the carry on bag. Now, I've traveled enough to know this. I did have one outfit (simple running clothes and flip flops, of course) in my carry on. But our next day activity was going to be one in which I wanted to be dressed up. So... lesson learned. In all fairness, on this trip, we were taking a lot of books, heavy, and so in order to balance out the weight of the 2 suitcases, I stuck a fair amount of books in my carry on because clothes are lighter for the checked bags. Well.... lesson learned. But hey, it made for a fun excuse to get a little something new to wear ;)  This was the first for my luggage to not quite make it.
  In case you're wondering, the luggage didn't make it because our connecting flight was pretty tight and thus, our luggage did not make it not that flight. Kindly Delta delivered our suitcases to our hotel when they arrived the next day.

3. Another first for me- I was the full time translator on this trip. I have traveled there by myself without a translator, but on this trip, I was the translator for everyone with me, navigating all the conversations. This is both exciting and well, I also felt nervous, insufficient to do so. There is a great way to learn- jump in and do it!

                                                            Day 1. Sunday. Cartagena
 Cartagena is full of culture. There are bright colors, live music, awesome food and so much rich history. Although I've stayed there several times, on this trip, I saw more of the city than before and we got to experience many restaurants and explore a bit more the ideas and the history of the city. Andy and I will lead a team there in October with Footprints with Hope through the Restoration Park Church and we are quite excited. We had fun exploring the city in new ways, navigating ideas for what or where we can go with the team in October.
      After a fun evening Saturday night exploring Old City, we left Sunday morning from the hotel to attend Flor de Campo, the church in Cartagena. We were welcomed with open arms. I felt like I was in my own church, welcomed with hugs and kisses and kind words. These friends have become family and it was wonderful to be back. Being the translator was a new experience for me. I was up front with Bishop, translating the sermon and then later translating all of the conversations and the very cool things the church is doing there in Cartagena.
  When the service ended, they broke into small classroom settings. This is the ministry in the little area of Flor de Campo with the kids, Voces Invisibles, Voces de Todos, some of whom are migrants from Venezuela. They are taught photography, and on this day they were taking actual printed snapshots of their small city blocks (as we would think of ) and placing them on a paper, mapping and drawing them out. They were learning how to use photography to understand their own space of living.
 They were learning guitar, drums, singing, literature, reading and through all of these avenues they are taught their rights, they are taught their roots and their history and they are taught how to live life abundantly and make better choices. To see all of this was beautiful, to see the joy these kids have, and an avenue to grow in a healthy environment off the streets.

 Next we ate lunch together in the pastoral parsonage. While we finished lunch and enjoyed tinto (coffee) we listen to Bishop and the girls who were preparing a cultural dance for us banter back and forth about whose dance was best- Salsa, from Cali, Bishop's home town, or the other dances of the other cities like Cumbia, and  Maplé. Listening to them was quite comical and that banter continued on the whole week every time the topic arose.
  Which led us to the next moment of the gals presenting dances for us. They gave a little intro to each one, what the background and the history to the dance was, why it was original to its location and how they used it as an expression of their culture, their history and their lives. They prepared 3 different ones for us. We really enjoyed this.

 Lastly, after many photos and much laughter, we were able to enjoy one more "show". There is a small band called Ninguneados, who you can see here who performed for us for a bit. They shared their story, how they use their music to be the voice for those who do not have a voice. Their name Ninguneados is based on this poem. Their music is beautiful and powerful.

 After that, we visited the home briefly of one of those band members and then made our way back to the hotel. From the hotel we went back out into the city and enjoyed another meal in another new location, exploring the possibilities and also reminiscing about the day and the ideas our foundation was beginning to form through the little bit of exposure.

 By the way, Cartagena is the location of launching our first pilot program with the women. We are half way to our funding for that. If you're interested in donating towards it or want to know more, please go here to donate.  We are looking for partners in our mission to bring hope to Colombia, one step at a time!  You also can find more information on our facebook page, with more videos at Footprints with Hope facebook

 PS. Please forgive the messiness of these photos... there is a work in progress in bettering the blog site. Enjoy the photos!

 
 

Wrecked

Have you ever been wrecked by an experience?
 Seen something that changed your world view? Met a person who challenged your thought process? Or perhaps had an experience that even was difficult to pass through but changed you for the better?

 Wrecked.

 It is a word drawn from a book I recently read. The book in fact is called Wrecked.  By Jeff Goins. And it is about "when a broken world slams into your comfortable life."

  People often wonder or ask me why I go to Colombia so often?

 It is because I was wrecked by that experience. And being wrecked changed my world forever.

  The first time I went to Colombia in 2016, it changed my perspective forever. I'd always had the desire to do work in a Latin American country. But the experience I had there wasn't just about the one time event. I was told in preparation for that time we would have there, that I would feel and see differently upon my arrival home. The challenge would be when I come home how to take that feeling and not let it fade, but to let being "wrecked" make a change for the future.

 I didn't always understand that. I would come home each time I visited and feel such a deep need to make a difference. To be different myself.  I wanted to implement here what I learned there. However, in a different culture, like our go-go-go and plan-plan-plan culture, putting those lessons to practice becomes extremely challenging. I never do it super well. Yes, I get wrecked every time I go. In a different kind of way each time. But when I want to do it here at home in the states, it is very hard.

 But through these few years of traveling there, expanding into different villages, Footprints with Hope, the non-profit foundation I founded has come to life. That is what being wrecked has done to me. It has brought the desire to life, to work towards a change because I was changed. The foundation has become an effect of being wrecked. Through the foundation, we hope to help change the lives of the women living in Colombia who have experienced violent situations and are looking and longing for ways to crawl out of those, but haven't had a hand to help them do so. And through that, more people are going to get to experience being "wrecked". Both the women in Colombia and those who will have the opportunity to begin traveling with our group. And I hope when they do, they will want to come home and make a change. Not a temporary one, but one that will carry out the work of Jesus in new ways, ways unique to each of them.

 We all have unique gifts. Thus, when being wrecked, how that will play out will look different.

 So, ask me why I keep going back to Colombia...

 It is a calling, yes. A desire to help spread the love of Jesus through acts of service and a simple "show up and be there", which makes others know they matter. But I go back, and I began the foundation, because when I was wrecked, I knew I never wanted to go backwards. I wanted to make a change. Not for my sake, but for the reason of spreading the love of Jesus with the gifts He has given me.

 Tomorrow I leave once again to go to the beautiful country. We are working as the foundation to launch our first project, which will be an 8 month program for women. We will be teaching them a trade, a job skill. They will get time with a psychologist, who will help them work through their past, their hurts, their insecurities. They will learn financial management. And we will put together their stories in a book. They will have dance therapy. To do this program, the cost is roughly $5,700. We have begun the process of raising that money.
 Tomorrow I take 2 of the 3 board members with me. We will visit locations, talk about the program, meet those who will implement it in our absence. We will visit a village which I have not yet seen, which does intense work with the Venezuelan migrants. I go back because those people matter. I go back because I was wrecked and don't want to ever lose what I have learned through that. I go back because those women are valuable. And I am excited to share my experiences with others to see how when they get wrecked how God will take that and use it for His good.

   I can't wait to share about the experiences post trip.... and how I get wrecked this time around.

world cancer day

Cancer...
 It is a word that breaks the heart. Cancer is a word no one wants to hear and few know how to handle upon first hearing it. Cancer is a disease that steals life and changes the world, and not really in a positive way. Cancer is a very difficult sickness to face, whether the one going through it or the ones walking along side those going through it.

 Today is World Cancer Day.

  When I heard this was a day and that today was it, of course my thoughts were instantaneously drawn to my mom. I wanted to do a clever picture or post on facebook or a moment to remember my mom, but none of that seemed appropriate. So I turned inward, as I often do. and decided to put my thoughts, best as I could, to the black and white screen, pushing out the emotions that the word "cancer" captures in my soul.

 Unfortunately, I have had much exposure to cancer. My grandfather walked a cancer journey and he was the first person I was very close to who passed away when I was 18. I was touched by numerous people through the years of my growing up who went through cancer or lost their battle to it. I also saw victorious stories. But cancer really changed my life's perspective when my mom was diagnosed with it.

 If you'll allow me, I'm going to take you through that journey a little bit from my perspective and share what cancer has taught me through the years.

 December, 2006. At that time, my family and I lived in Florida. Joseph was 2. Elizabeth was 4. And we had traveled to Ohio for Christmas to be with my parents. We enjoyed our holiday as usual and laughed and the kids had their first experience in the snow.  Mom kept working to get me, my sister and her together at one time, just the 3 of us, which was not usually something she pushed, as working the schedules was always tricky. But we finally made it work. I drove mom and myself to meet my sister. And that morning, in the corner of Tim Hortons cafe on Dayton Yellow Springs Rd, my world changed forever.
 You know those moments you can recall an exact space, an exact hour and every detail? That Tim Hortons will forever be that for me. That was where my mom told us she had cancer.

 I was shocked. I could not respond, as my mom had always been so healthy. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. And I certainly had no idea how I was going to return to Florida, knowing mom was in a battle for life.

 I could walk you through hours of this story as it still plays through my mind like a movie. Mom fought back. She had surgery; I flew in to help care for her. She had complications, but she never quit. She went into remission. Fast forward to 2007, God had this crazy notion to walk my family through a very trying time of losing jobs and such and moving to the only place we knew to go: home to Ohio. That transition was one of the pivoting points in our lives, and not really always with good memories. But nonetheless, God's plans are always greater than ours.

 2009: Mom's cancer returned, in a very strange way- in the lung. Because of the nature of it showing up in that location, the doctor was convinced it was new cancer and not a metastasized version. They removed one of mom's lungs only to discover it was actually Stage IV cancer which had metastasized from the original cancer just years before. It was another moment I will forever recall, in Miami Valley Hospital as the doctor gave us that news. Again, we were left speechless.  Again, mom chose to fight... and that she did.
 She went through radiation and chemo. At this point, I was understanding more why God had moved my family to Ohio. I wouldn't have wanted to be in any other place. It was a difficult time, to say the least. But mom fought. Mom laughed. Mom loved. And mom never gave up. She was constantly the rock for us, when we should have been that for her. I remember one time she had a very lengthy chemo treatment and I was at her side and I believe my sister was there too. We are card players, so we did what we knew to do: we played cards while the chemo did its thing. And that moment I will never forget how some silly realization about the deck in the middle of the game put the three of us into hysterics. I mean, we must have seemed completely crazy to the other patients when the nurse had to come tell us to keep it down! That was my mom, though... always laughing. Always finding the best in every moment.

  I became a Relay for Life advocate. Mom was by my side. Mom  came out to it, which remains one of my favorite photos of her with my kids, under the sign of our relay team, her proudly being a "survivor" still in the battle of it, but supporting me in the endeavor of what I was doing.

 I could share story after story here, which is how this blog began. Life changed in November of 2010 when mom woke up and could not talk. She could not write. She could clearly understand us, though. That day we learned she had 3 tumors pressing on the brain. The cancer was moving rapidly.
 And yet, without being able to speak, when asked, mom nodded her head... she wanted to keep fighting. More radiation. More chemo.

 The journey continued and mom fought her hardest. She never regained speech fully, but I will forever hold those months as precious that we had, just sitting next to each other, and every so often she would pat my hand, reassuring me. Wrapped in her green sweater... smiling without words. She didn't need words to continue teaching me life lessons through those moments.

 I will recall sitting next to her bedside one day in the closer months to her passing and thinking "today could be her last day..."  but also clearly learning I was worrying about that so much that I was likely not enjoying the moments I still had with her. Mom  was teaching me without saying any words. In her bed, with hospice on call.... she was teaching me about enjoying life while I can. Weird, right?

  We were all with her the night she passed away, minus my younger brother, who hadn't made it in quite yet. March 20, 2011 is another moment that cancer engrained into my life forever- the moment I said goodbye to mom here on this earth.

 Cancer did ultimately take the life of my mom. But in the process, my mom taught me beautiful lessons. In essence, cancer taught me lessons through its disease. I hate cancer, yes. Cancer changed my world. But I loved my mom so much, and she taught me to take hard times and allow those to grow me, and change me for the better.
 So on world cancer day, I remember my mom and a million memories that wrap their warmth around me. On world cancer day, while i have of course not experienced it in my physical body, I walked it with mom and I will share that cancer taught me to love deeper, even when it hurts. Cancer taught me life is so short and I need to seize the opportunities that come my way. Cancer taught me to fight against the difficult moments. Caner taught me the value of "one day at a time". Cancer taught me to value what matters. Cancer taught me more than I wanted to learn at my age, but left me with lessons unforgettable.

 I wouldn't wish cancer on anyone nor for others to watch a loved one walk it. But I do know that mom would want me not to grieve on a day of world cancer day, but to teach others what I have learned in the process.

 Thanks for the lessons, mom, even 9 years later your cancer still teaches me....

Relay for Life, mom's last year of life, 2010

Spoiled Milk

You know those days when they start out with one thing and then it kind of snowballs.... 

 Well, this morning was that kind of Monday morning. I woke up super sleepy (call it the Superbowl's fault or blame it on a new routine of Saturday classes and not getting that extra day of rest...). Whatever the case, it definitely felt like a Monday morning to me. However,  I got up as I typically do, ahead of the others, to  have my quiet time with my coffee. At 5:45 I prepared for my run and set out on that. 

 It was definitely a Monday kind of run... sluggish and maybe even slightly discouraging because of the sloth-like feeling I was expereincing. However, I maintained positivity by saying to myself "At least I'm out here..." 

 When I returned home, I grabbed a quick shower and then went searching for a bit of breakfast to quiet the growl in my stomach that was already speaking to me in its efforts to fill the hunger gap in lieu of (trying to) eat keto"ish" recently. Not die hard, but enough so that I definitely am craving the chocolates!  I settled on a bowl of cereal, as I didn't feel like eating eggs again. I do enjoy cereal, I just don't usually feel satisfied for too long with it, so I don't allow that to be my meal too often.  I poured my cereal, looking forward to the oat squares in my bowl. I took one bite and spit it out... 

 

What disapointment (and disgust!) to find out that the milk was spoiled and had totally ruined the bowl of cereal... which happened to be the last bit of the box. I was left wtih a terrible taste in my mouth that neither toothpaste nor my second cup of coffee could erase. On top of that, to make it worse, as I looked in the fridge, I discovered my 15 yr. old son had already opened the new milk ( because he'd discovered the old one was bad!) and had not thrown out the bad milk! That is atypical of him, but just played into this beautiful Monday start.  

  Some days are just like that. A rough start, followed by more irritating things that interrupt the desire to remain positive. I could totally be annoyed and grumpy about all of the above things, and I kind of want to be in some ways, but where will that get me? Only to a more grumpy place. Being positive in the midst of struggle is a challenge. I do this super well for others, but not often for my own self and I am working to change this. 

    James 1:2-4 says "Dear borthers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurances is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing." 

   No one likes that verse really, I don't think, because we don't want to see our troubles as a way of growing us. Troubles hurt. They are annoying. They bring pain or frustration. But they also have the ability to make us better, stronger.... If we let them. If we allow the endurance to grow us, it will reshape us into a new perspective. We will learn ourselves better, we will learn Jesus better, we will learn those around us a little better. But... yes, it kind of stinks in the process. 

 Now, a bit of spoiled milk and a sluggish run doesn't make for a lot of "trouble" honestly. However, it does carry my perspective to the right place for the real world struggles I do face. The friendships I need to let go. The tough words I may need to say. The boundaries needed to be put up. The evaluation of the hurts that need to be released- i.e. forgivness to offer, whether asked for or not. Pushing through rejection. Accpeting "no" or learning to say it myself. The every day choices we have to make that can shape us into being stronger and better but at times can be excrutiatingly difficult. Those are the real-world perspectives that spoiled milk make me reflect upon in my steps of growth to endure in new ways. 

 I left the house without really eating breakfast, kind of stewing on the gross bad taste left in my mouth. However, God has used that bad taste to remind me where my perspective needs to be and what He is working to do (with such patience with me) to remind me to renew my mind... change my attitude... let the difficulties reshape me and put on my positivity.

 So, I didn't get my cereal, but thank goodness for coffee ;) . I didn't get in a speedy run, but I'm thankful I dragged myself out to do something. I drank a bit of spoiled milk, but there's a new carton ready in the fridge. I have many blessings to count as I go into this rocky start to a Monday. I will focus on those and the process which is being done at this point from the inside out and choose joy and laughter.  After all... the story is kind of funny (now). 

Live Abundantly

I was once told that my blog would possibly be more effective or more read if I chose a topic or followed a theme with it.
  I attempted that at one point. I've moved from talking about grief to discussing running and sharing about spiritual growth. I generalized my blog as a platform to write about faith, fitness, family and friendships. Mostly I hold to that, though it kind of gets a little scattered, and I know it.

 But... I'm not writing on this platform to be a professional author (yet ;) )  nor do I write here to have a large following. It is nice to know when a person reads the blog, of course. However, I write for the purposes of processing my own thoughts many times. Yes, I could do that on my own in a journal and I still do for the more deep moments. But I hope that somehow for the few who may read this, that my blogs either 1. Help prompt the thoughts a little, help people grow or think about life al little deeper. or 2. At the very least gain a little insight to me. Those who read this likely know me in some way, shape or form, and shy of writing emails or letters to everyone, well, this is a way to share a little of life.

 I have in the last year grown in an enormous way. I took 2019 to be a little more internal with my thoughts, more purposeful, if you will. I learned very  much. Now, moving into 2020, I feel that growth propelling me forward in new ways, which can at times prompt new growth and new lessons in life. I'll find myself blogging about those more through this year, I am certain. Perhaps the lessons I drank in during the last year are going to come pouring out through these pages this year. Time will tell. Today I want to share about the word I've chosen for 2020. It's 2 words, actually.

                                                    LIVE ABUNDANTLY

 I'd like to give a little background on this choice. In 2019 I used the word purpose and through the year often found myself turning in to that word, thinking about why a situation was happening, what my purpose was in the moment or how to keep pushing towards my created purpose in this life of being a wife, mom, employee, and child of God. Through it I learned so much, but I will say that it came at times with struggles to push through difficult moments. Standing up for what I felt was right; enduring rejection at times; pushing through emotions; learning more about who I was created to be in the pursuit of fulfilling purpose. It was a journey and one on which I continue.
 But I admit, there were days I struggled to enjoy that journey. And so as 2019 came to a close and I began thinking about 2020, I could not get away from a verse that kept coming to my mind.
  John 10:10 "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly."

 I want to live abundantly. I want to be joyful in all that I do. I want to enjoy life to the fullest, because that is what HE wants for me. I want to, even when it gets hard, find ways to be positive and live life abundantly. live out experiences. Laugh more. Deepen the relationships that matter. Forgive. Repair broken pieces. And continue living out my purpose- fully! Living life abundantly.

 Let me be honest with you about this- I struggle to do this well. I am super good at supporting others and helping them see the silver lining or just being present with them. I am good at being patient and helping diffuse situations with peaceful and calm words (usually). However, I struggle inside with anxiety. Anxiety is an invisible sickness that consumes the body at times. My heart beats fast, deep breaths become necessary and my throat tightens up. Anxiety is real. It is hard to explain to others. I've been told that as a believer I shouldn't feel that, i should just pray and it'll go away. I've been told that anxiety isn't a thing. I've been told to get over it and many other things. I've been told that I should count my blessings because I have many of them. This I know- 100%.
 I don't choose anxiety. I do everything I can to fight it. It is invisible. And it often is one of the "thieves" that comes to steal and destroy the joy that I should have. Paul talks in 2 Corinthians 12:7-10 about a weakness he desperately asked to be taken away, but in the process learned the grace of God to be sufficient and to be his strength. That is me with anxiety. But in spite of having that invisible battle within, He wants me to live abundantly. Because He is my strength.

 So that is what I am working towards doing. That is my word for 2020. And that is what I share today. I will continue to share the difficulties through these pages because those are the lessons in life that teach us. However, I hope to also share the amazing moments that come from living life abundantly, one day at a time.

Puddles and Ice and Finish Lines

Saturday morning I woke up early to do my "long" run for the week. I say long in "" because I'm not at a great distance as of yet; I'm working to rebuild to get there. However, in lieu of not having trained for some time, it was a long run.

 I had been watching the weather the day before, as it finally turned winter here in Ohio. I do not enjoy the cold, so I was rather savoring the 40 and 50 degree runs I was getting in during January. When I woke up and prepared to head out, I layered up because as of 6:30 am Saturday, it was raining and a little windy. There was a thin layer of ice hanging ever so beautifully on the trees and glossing the grass. I tested out the streets and decided that they were only wet, and not slick, so it was ok to head out.

 I began my run...

 These are the moments I both love and hate about training. I dislike the cold and wet combination in the winter. I dislike the dark morning in the midst of January. However, I enjoy the peace of others not being out. I also enjoy that the training process is really what shapes me. I love what I learn through the months of working hard at the miles, ever so slowly. I enjoy the thoughts flowing freely.

 Through the run, I dodged puddles and had to walk in spots which did prove to be slick. I became soaked (and decided I really ought to invest in something waterproof when I run in these cold rains).  But all the while, I felt good about getting out into the morning to do my run. I know that I will never be that person winning age group awards, but through my running, I do feel like I am winning at life. I am growing in the person I want and need to be.

 As I ran Saturday morning, I found myself comparing the run to life. This is why I always say the training journey, for me, is more valuable the the race itself, because of what I learn about me along the way.  I tried hard to dodge the puddles, but inevitably found one which soaked my feet, much to my chagrin in the cold wind.
 Isn't life like that? We work hard to keep on the right path, doing our best to dodge the "puddles"- aka the rough spots, the hard times, the "oh crap" moments. Yet, no matter how hard we try to do that, sometimes it cannot be avoided. We just have to walk (or run) through them. We have to get both feet wet in order to keep moving forward. We can't push through the day until we've walked through the puddle.

 After I made my way through that puddle, a mile later, I found a very slick spot. It was icy and I could spot it before I got to it, but I could not avoid it. Therefore, I had to slow down and walk. Life also calls for that at times.
 We gain momentum, we feel good, and then comes an icy patch.... forcing a slow down. This may mean re-evaluating a path we are on. It could mean looking intently at those who surround us and whether they are going to help us cross that icy path or do we need to let go and do it on our own? Call my evaluation a stretch if you will, but for me, it's a very real lesson in life. Seeing it in the light ahead of me was a helpful "heads-up" of what was to come, but I could not avoid it, simply prepare for it and slow down. Better to see it than to be caught off guard and fall on my face.

 Finally passing that patch, I was able to finish out my run well, albeit wet and cold. But I finished well, and isn't that what really counts?

 Jesus never promised an easy life here, he in fact said there would be troubles (puddles and icy patches).  But what counts is how we push through those, what we learn in the midst of them and how we finish the race. I want to finish well, don't you? I want Him to be where my eyes are fixed. I may get wet feet and slick patches along the way, and I'm sure I will fall more than once, but ultimately in the end, the shoes will dry and the ice will melt and there will be a lesson learned through it all, and He will have been there the whole time.
   Hebrews 12:1-2 "Do you see what this means- all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? i means we'd better get on with it. Strip down, start running- and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race were in. ...."