Traditions Make Memories; Memories Last a Lifetime

So Christmas is over.  Thank goodness.

Don't get me wrong - I appreciate Christmas and all it stands for.  I just have no Christmas joy like others do, I guess.  I am not sure I ever have either.  I try.  We went to Beef & Boards production of "A Christmas Carol" (our 3rd time seeing it).  We went to Chicago to see the lights at the zoo.  We went to our church's special Christmas programs.  I put a tree up, made some cookies, wrapped presents.......but I was just going through the motions.

Depressing, isn't it?

However, despite my lack of Christmas cheer, I did have a good Christmas.  I feel like I have eaten more than I care to admit but it isn't the end of the world.  What I eat between Christmas and New Year's is not as relevant as what I eat between New Year's and Christmas.  Therefore, I partook in my share of cookies, puddings and carbs.  My body is letting me know that I was naughty but that's okay. 

We do have a few traditions that we continue on no matter where my kids are in life or their ages.  One is that we always have cinnamon rolls Christmas morning.   One year I decided not to do cinnamon rolls. and on Christmas Eve my kids were asking where they were.  Once I said I decided not to make them that year, they were not happy with me.  My husband took our dog out to potty and was gone longer than normal.  When he returned, he had a small foil pan with a bow on it.  Some older gentleman saw him outside and handed it to him with a Merry Christmas saying he was handing out goodies throughout the area.  My first thought was - freak, but we put them in the fridge with no thought and not even looking to see what it was. 

I had forgotten about them and when I remembered, I peeked under the foil and guess what was there?  Cinnamon rolls - 4 of them!  Who gives out cinnamon rolls??  My kids and I chalk it up to an angel, believe what you will.  God knew how much 4 cinnamon rolls meant to my kids and our Christmas and since I foolishly neglected them, He brought them to us. 

Another is that Matt always hands out the gifts.  This year my kids asked why Matt always did it.  I didn't really have a specific answer other than my dad always did it growing up.  It was like the man of the house hands them out.  It may be weird but that is the way it has always been.

Something else we have always done is the kids open first and alternate.  My son would open one, then my daughter, then son, etc.  I do this so that they can appreciate what they got, they can thank whomever bought it and they take a moment to not think just about what they are getting but to appreciate what everyone has gotten.  Then Matt and I open ours.  It slows down the moment.  The morning is not just a frenzy of paper and bows but of taking our time and appreciating each moment.

Also, our kids have never believed in Santa Claus.  Ever.  I cannot remember a time I have ever believed in him and I just never passed it on to my kids.  I just didn't want to lie to my kids for the first impressionable years of their lives.  My family said I took away from the magic of Christmas and others would say I was being a Grinch.  Funny.....my kids never said - "Man I wished we believed in Santa."  They enjoyed the holiday and made memories.

Lastly, even though my kids didn't believe in Santa, I still waited until they were asleep and filled their stockings.  They would wake up before me and find their stockings filled with candy and surprises.  While they always knew it was us doing it, they never questioned us as to why we do it.  It was always just something fun for them to wake to and tied them over until we opened gifts.

With that being said - we had cinnamon rolls, we patiently took turns opening the gifts as Matt passed them out and while my kids never gave credit to some fictitious, jolly dude. they woke to filled stockings.

Christmas time brings the blues for most, present author included.  I miss my dad, I miss the times I used to have with family (whom I didn't see one of them this year for the holiday) and I feel like time is just passing me by while I sit idle.  However, as I sat and played cards for hours with my kids.....I can't help by have a full heart. 

The Gauntlet's Been Dropped

I often wonder if people get sick of hearing about my journey to a healthier me.  Then I snap out of it and say to myself - I don't care if they are!  I am proud of what I have accomplished and I have hopes to inspire others to take the steps to become the healthiest they can be!

So with that being said, I ran my first 5k on Thanksgiving.  While most of you were waking to the smell of turkey cooking and pies cooling, I woke up to a bowl of oatmeal and tennis shoes.

I didn't think I would be so nervous, but I was.  I had thoughts that I would do terrible.  That I would get going and have to stop, walk or crawl and look a fool.  Or maybe I would just throw my hands up and say 'forget this!'.   Once I got there, however, all my apprehension melted away as I saw all ages, sizes and fitness levels.  There was a buzz of excitement as people milled around waiting for the race to start.

Me, having never done a 5k before, just stood there like a fool.  Then I thought that perhaps I should get my music all ready.  I had just bought an arm band, and was ready to just zone out.  Needless to say, I couldn't get the stupid thing on just right and once I did, the race started (which I wasn't even aware of until I saw the wave of people around me moving).  Then my music stopped.  So I ran the entire race with no music and my headphones in my hands because I had no pockets. Fantastic.

So, I had one goal and one goal only - to beat my fellow runner (no need to mention names here, he knows who he is!).  I saw him ahead of me after the first 5 minutes.  I kept him in my line of sight. 

One mile passed and I actually felt pretty good.  I thought to myself, I got this.  A woman jogged up next to me.  She looked fit and looked the part with her running outfit, headphones (her music was working just fine) and running shoes.  She asked if she could pace herself with me and I thought - seriously?  I feel like a stampeding rhino and you wanna run with me?  She spoke with ease while I wheezed and puffed out a meager - "yea, sure".

As I turned a corner, I took that moment to push a little harder and soon passed he-who-shall-not-be-named.  I was in the zone.  When I run, I typically am unaware of nothing else other than what I am doing.  This was my first time running outside.  However, on the treadmill I break it down into sections - 1 mile, 2 miles, 3 miles then the .10 mile.  Here, I had no idea where I was.  All I kept doing was looking straight ahead and focusing on pushing through.  I kept telling myself - "You got this.  You can do this.  You are doing this.  You have done this before on the treadmill.  Don't stop."   That was a big one because a couple times, I just wanted to stop and walk like some others were doing.  However, I knew if I did that getting back up to a good pace would be near impossible.  I just had to keep trucking.

It was a good thing that I didn't have music because he-who-shall-not-be-named was behind me.  I could hear him catching up and everytime I thought he was close, I would push through a little harder and get a few more feet between us.  The finish line was soon in my sights and I could hear him getting closer.  I pushed with everything I had (and feared falling on my face) and finished with him right behind me. 

I did it!  The high I felt was unreal.  I just ran a 5k; I just ran 3.1 miles.  I was a runner!  Say what?!  Seriously, I look back on this journey and never thought I would be here.

Granted, I still hate running.  I don't think I will ever like it.  But I like the challenge, I like the competition (even with myself) and I like the feeling of empowerment I get.

I am running another one this weekend.  The gauntlet has been dropped.  I have a feeling I am going to have to push even harder because someone will make it his mission to beat me this time around.

Challenge accepted.



By the way - my time was 31.24; which blew my mind.  He-who-shall-not-be-named?  31.26 - that's right.....2 seconds!

I finished!

We did it!

Running is of the Devil

I am not a runner.

I always say - if you see me running, you had better start running too because something is after me.

I hate it, loathe it, despise it!

I see people who say they love to run.  How it is so invigorating and they enjoy it.  How in the world do they enjoy it?  My legs scream for me to stop, my side feels like it is going to explode, my face flushes, I sweat more than any human should, I gasp for air like a fish out of water - excuse me?  But what part of that is "fun"?

Running is a big calorie burn.  It is great for the heart, lungs and muscles.  Therefore, I decided to make an effort to run several times a week.  I did....even though I had to make myself do it. Every.Single.Time.  But I did it.

I go to the gym a lot and do various fitness classes so for awhile I put the running to the side because I figured why do it if I didn't really HAVE to?  Recently, a friend brought to my attention a couple 5Ks coming up in our town.  Matt and I always said next year we were going to try our legs out on some 5Ks.  But when these were shown to me, I thought - why not?  So, time to get on that proverbial horse and beat the dreaded treadmill into submission.

I set a goal to do a 5K on the treadmill at least 5 times a week.  It didn't matter if I walked or ran, I just needed to finish.  I had tried the C25K (couch to 5K) but I figured I would just go into it full force.  The first day I started, I did a steady jog at 4.5 mph.  Not too bad.  I stopped a couple times to get a drink (it is hard to get a drink of water when you are galloping like a horse) and to towel off.  I ran it in just over 40 minutes.  Not bad for a first time, in my opinion.  My second day I shaved about 1.5 minutes off and did it in 38.37 minutes.  I had to skip a day because I wasn't home but the third day I was determined to get under 38 and skimmed it by the hair of my teeth and ran it at 37.58. 

While I know treadmill running is completely different than road running, I am well on my way to not finishing dead last.  That is my primary goal - not to be dead last and to at least finish.  I got this.

So if I hate running so much, why do I do it?  Well, there are the health benefits, obviously.  And as much as I hate it, it burns around 500 calories in a 40 minute run.  It would take me over an hour to burn that on an exercise bike.  There is something empowering about running too.  A year ago, I couldn't even jog a half mile.  I was carrying 90 extra pounds and just the thought of running made me sweat.  So for me to run a straight 3 miles without stopping or feeling like I am going to die, is huge!  I feel so accomplished and so proud of myself.

Afterwards, my legs are jelly, I am covered in sweat and my knees protest but as I catch my breath and rehydrate, I realize.....I am a runner.

I run.  I may not be graceful.  I may sound like a dying whale lying on the shore.  I may look like a hot mess.  I may even have to slow to a fast paced walk for a moment just to compose myself......

But I run.

I am 39 years old and I am in the best shape of my life.  I still feel I have a little ways to arrive to where I want to be but I am well on my way.  It is never too late.  There will always be an excuse.  There will always be a "will start tomorrow" mentality.  Make TODAY your TOMORROW.  Start small and one day you will wake up and realize you can do anything you put your mind to.

Even doing something that you hate. (haha) 

Healthy Obsession

I am an avid reader.  However, the older I get it seems the less time I have to do it.  But oh, there is nothing more satisfying than a good read.

My dream home would consist of a library like you see in the movies - mahogany or cherry wood, large, leather chairs, a large picture window and the walls covered in canvas art and books from floor to ceiling.  Ahhhhh, it makes me smile just thinking about it. 

I can thank my father for my obsession.  He was an avid reader himself, able to read at an alarming speed.  He could look down the middle of the page and read all the words.  I can remember when my brother had read Pet Semetary by Stephen King and was telling my dad what a good book it was.  The next morning my dad said - "It was a good book."  He had read it in a few hours time.

My dad didn't get out much.  So my mom would go to the library for him. The librarian knew us by name.  If there was a book our small town library didn't have (which was often), they would have it there within a week for him.  My mom had this large sports sack, the mesh kind that football players use for equipment.  She would take it and skim the library shelves and fill it with 10 -12 books or until the bag seemed to bulge at the seems.  They typically included autobiographies and anything new by Larry McMurtry.  Once we got back home, my dad would go through and make two piles - one of the ones he was interested in and the other of the ones he was not.  My mom made the trip once a week, often times more.  In that week's time, my dad would have finished the books and ready for new - the library couldn't keep up with his insatiable thirst for the written word.

I have developed the same love and appreciation for books.  I love the smell of them.  I love the crackling sound the spine makes when I open it.  I love the feel of turning a page and I never....ever dog-ear my pages!  I own a Nook and my husband always offers to buy digital copies of the latest book I want and there have been times I have let him, only to realize it is not the same.  I don't like it.  I want to turn a page; I want to slide the bookmark in to save my place; I want to hold the book with both hands. 

While I understand that technology is surpassing our knowledge it seems, I know that books may become obsolete and libraries may just be a story I tell my grandkids.  I hope not, but I am a realist and know this very well could be our future.

However, I will continue to collect them and pull then from the shelf, dust the sleeve off, curl in a chair with a cup of tea and enjoy a life I will never live.

And as long as I have anything to say about it, my future generations will grow to love books as much as I.  Thankfully, my daughter has developed the same adoration for the bound pages.  Therefore, the generation of loving them will continue.

With that being said, I have a new book waiting to be read......

It's not "good-bye"; it's "see ya later"....

This day came way too fast.....way too fast.

My eldest, only son, moved out of the house and into his college apartment.  *sigh*

I have been an emotional wreck that I just couldn't pull myself out of.  I would get up and leave the room randomly to go cry.  If someone had told me that having a child was like having your heart walk around outside of your body, I am not sure I would have signed up for this gig.

It's hard.  Actually, this was probably one of the hardest things I have had to do.  Last night I was such a mess that I began to have an anxiety attack and had to reel myself back in (with the help of medication).  Finally, morning had came and we were packing up the vans and heading to Purdue.

I did fairly well today.  I had these grand ideas that we would get him unpacked, moved in, we would go out to a movie, eat dinner and then I would drop him off at work with a final farewell.  Yea....nice try.

He was moved in and unpacked in less than two hours and wanted lunch and me to go.  So much for that idea.  As short as it was....it was a good time.  There was laughter, conversation and good feelings.  Seeing him when his roommates arrived (buddies of his) and how they interacted put all my concerns at ease.

Leaving him with a "See ya later, text me if you need anything", I was driving home.  I shed a few tears and told Cheyenne, in a dramatic flare of emotions, - "Being a mother sucks.  Don't ever become one."

I am not okay but I will be.  Yes, I may shed some more tears as I miss hearing him downstairs.  I will sigh heavily when I just want to go downstairs and lay on his bed while he plays video games (and often fall asleep).  The cat came up the stairs this evening, causing them to creak and for a brief moment, I thought it was Caleb.  It's hard but we are creatures that adapt quickly.  While I will miss him, I am excited for this adventure.

That is what we do, right?  We have them, raise them and send them off.  They are never truly OURS.  God just loans them to us.  We are to nurture, raise them, teach them, protect them, guide them....then trust in Him and send them into the world with a good moral compass.  God is the one that created them, molded them in our wombs and has a purpose for them.  We are here to unveil that purpose and help them discover it.

But danggit - it's hard!

However, as I sit here, I think to myself......if this is hard for me how much harder was it for God to let His Son go?  How much harder was it for him to give His son to a hand picked mother, for her to raise him, nurture him, protect him, guide him and raise him only to let Him go and fulfill his purpose?  I could not even begin to imagine.

I am scared to death, I admit.  I have done everything for my son.  Even when he moved in, I had him all set up with everything he needed to start out, including food.  His other roommates came with some Ramen Noodles and coffee.  I feel like I over achieved but I want him to succeed.  I want him to flourish.  When he was showing his roommates his dishes, his toaster oven, his Kierig and his groceries....he did so with pride.

I want nothing but the best for him but am afraid I did not teach him to live on his own.  I never even taught him to use a dishwasher or a washing machine.  I have never showed him how to make a bed or how to manage his time.  My kids have no chores.  I just tell them to clean their rooms and bathrooms from time to time. My husband always got on me about not giving them responsibility.  It isn't that I didn't want them to have any responsibility....I just wanted them to be kids as long as possible.  The majority of their lives will be consumed with working, paying bills, raising a family and being an adult. It is okay if the first part is just enjoying life for a little bit.

I wish I had cherished time more.  Perhaps played an extra game of basketball outside, watched a few more movies, took more interest in COD, played board games more often, not yelled so much.....instead of letting him be a hermit, I wish I would have invaded his room more.   While all those thoughts dance in my head, I think to myself that I may have missed those opportunities but I still have plenty more ahead of me.

So, he can get mad at my texts, he can roll his eyes at my Facebook posts, he can get irritated at my weekly visits.......but I know that he needs them just as much as I do.

I am such a lucky mom.  I was thinking that the other day.  I was talking with my husband about how hard this was and said, "Why can't our kids hate us like normal teenagers?  It would be easier then."   In which he replied, "Yea, we have some pretty good kids."  

And we do.  I am so utterly proud of both of my kids.  I was such a crappy mom for the first 10 years of my son's life and first 8 of my daughter's.  When I think of how despicable I truly was, it makes my heart hurt.  I was horrible.  However, when I found God and turned my life around, I became a better parent.  My kids are my friends (but I am a parent first) and I wouldn't want it any other way.  

So, I made it through.....I came out on the other side.  There will be tough days ahead, I am sure.  But I can do this.

At least for a year....until my daughter moves out and I am an empty nester.  That will open a whole new can of worms.  BUT - I will not dwell on that.  I will enjoy this time I do have with her still at home.

With that being said.......

Boiler up!
Hammer down!

All packed and ready to roll

I survived.....

Coca Cola cans waiting in the fridge...  "mom" and "go getter"

Wa-hoo! VBS '14 a Success!

This past week has been a much anticipated event!  It was our annual Vacation Bible School.  

This was our 8th VBS and they just keep getting better and better.  This year was Avalanche Ranch.  The church was transformed into a ranch of amazing proportions that truly reflected the love of God.

We learned about how GOD IS REAL (story of Rahab), GOD IS WITH US (the crossing of the Jordan River on dry land), GOD IS STRONG (the falling of the walls of Jericho), GOD IS AWESOME (the death and resurrection) and GOD IS IN CHARGE (Naaman dipping in the Jordan River 7 times to be healed of leprosy).  We met our Bible Memory Buddies Buc, Shadow, Ranger, Skye and Boss.  We also watched the crazy antics of our pal, Chadder the chipmunk.

It takes a long to to prepare for VBS.  I have already started on next year's theme and already ordered some supplies offline.  Once the first of the year rolls around, I will be spending hours learning music, building props, painting, planning and thinking of new ideas to implement.  100's of hours go into VBS and that is no exaggeration. 

Why put all that energy into it?

Seeing the crew leaders connect with the kids, that's why.
Seeing the kids love on their crew leaders, that's why.
To hear a little girl say "this was the best day ever", that's why.
To have kids hug you and say "we don't want this to ever end", that's why.
To see kids with their heads bowed, asking Jesus to be their 'forever friend', that's why.
To see a little girl reach up and grab a leader's pinky as they walk to their next station, that's why.
Seeing lives changed, that's why.

These kids get it.  They are little but they understand.  They melt my heart.

Therefore, if you volunteered, donated, prayed or just offered encouraging words....THANK YOU.  Your actions are not taken for granted.  I appreciate each one of you.  You give me the strength to keep going when I want to just scream because I feel so overwhelmed.  Again, thank you.

Now....to take a breath......relax for a bit......or until I get the kit for next year.  I can't help myself but to review and plan when I should be taking a break.  It is all just too exciting.

Until next year......

Sing and Play Stampede

Snacks, red team crew leader with his pal

Blue team crew leader and her buddy

Clementine dancing with the kids

Hearing the story of the wall of Jericho from Joshua himself

Coloring break in snacks

Horseplay Games

My Passion

Last night I was a guest speaker at a camp with some amazing middle schoolers and their leaders.  I haven't spoken anywhere other than my own church in awhile and I miss it. 

That is my passion.  If I could just quit everything and travel the world, sharing the love of Jesus with this generation, I could die happy and fulfilled.  The young people of today feel like they aren't being heard or that no one cares and often times, it is true.  They don't have anyone that treats them like they are anything more than a burden.  A lot (keep in mind I am not saying all) of society wants to push them into a corner and forget about them until they are old enough to contribute. 

Even the church often uses the phrase "they are the church of tomorrow".  False!  They ARE the church!  These young people are so full of potential.  They have the same spirit dwelling inside of them that we have in us.  God is no respecter of persons.  He can use a 9 year old just as much as he can use a 40 year old.   It is a matter of willingness and the state of the heart.

Youth are so hungry.  They are seeking whatever it takes to fill the emptiness that drills deep inside of them, whether it be drugs, sex, alcohol, self mutilation or sexual identity crisis.  They are wanting so desperately to feel something, anything that they don't realize that what they have been longing for all along was the love of a heavenly Father.

If we don't show them that they are valued, loved and have purpose....society will give them a reason to believe that they aren't.  When I speak, whether at my own church or at someone else's, I see the same pain and hurt buried deep inside.  When God gives me a message to deliver, it is so amazing to see freedom hover over the young people and a sense of hope replace the hurt in their eyes.  THAT is what makes it all worth it.

Give them a chance.....give them a ear when they want to talk....give them a shoulder when they want to cry.....give them hope when they feel hopeless.

That is what being Christ like is all about.