I’ve been in a season of transition… out of routine, finding new normals, lots of change. This doesn’t come easily to a scheduled girl like myself, but it takes change to be challenged.
I was blessed with being able to buy a home for my daughter and I, so for the past 6 weeks, I’ve been packing, moving, getting the new home ready, while working full-time and parenting. I’d been dreaming about how each room would come together, the memories we’d make there, making this house a home. I was constantly working on a home project but not getting any workouts in at all. Stress was high and my usual outlet was pushed out of the schedule. There just wasn’t enough hours in the day. I ended up a few pounds heavier, out of shape, and feeling off.
Anyone who’s moved knows how trying it is. Even though it was a goal I had been working toward for years, I felt overwhelmed and then guilty for feeling that way about something I’d been blessed to have. That familiar emotional spin cycle we get into…
I’m able to empathize with my patients and friends in times of transition. It’s the most common time to lose track of nutrition, exercise, and sleep. I’ll share that with them… remind them to give themselves some grace, and to get back on it as their stress calms down… but I’m less understanding with myself. Practicing what I preach is something I take pride in, but in transitions, it’s a struggle for me. I don’t typically allow myself much mercy and feel frustrated by letting myself get so far off track.
So, I started looking for a race to train for… that always helps me to get my workout routine back up. I’ve always wanted to do a triathlon, but the swimming terrified me! I’m new to cycling too, but it doesn’t scare me like the swimming does. (Well, the downhills do) 🙂 I tend to get high anxiety around water… something about it causes me to get riled up but I try to keep calm, especially in front of my daughter. A few years back, I was nervous about snorkeling wanted to experience it. As soon as I got in, my mask filled with water and I had a full blown panic attack. I think it was not being able to breathe that got it going. Immediately, I started shaking and crying and had to get out… it took me ages to settle down. Logically, I know the mask just needed to be adjusted but I couldn’t think clearly in that moment. My nerves took over and I was done. It’s been something I’ve wanted to overcome for a while…
Since then, I’ve been even more leery of the water, which ruled out triathlons. However, I’d heard about a triathlon from a few of my patients over the years… A women’s-only tri at a resort and the swim is through the resort’s lazy river. NO OPEN WATER! THREE & 1/2 FEET DEEP! I CAN STAND IF I PANIC! Now, that I could handle! I was excited and told my daughter about it, who said she wanted to do it with me. We looked up the details and discovered the race is for ages 9 & up, so she was good to go! She’s seen my training schedules on the fridge for a bunch of races over the years, so she knew we needed a plan. We found a program for beginner triathletes, discussed what we’d have to do to get ready, made the committment, and have started training. I’m proud to say that I can now swim a few laps without panicking and swallowing the pool!
It’s incredible to see her push beyond her limits. There’s something so empowering about crossing a finish line… In knowing the time and effort put into that committment were worth it at the end. This is what I hope becomes etched on my daughter’s heart… that her worth and value don’t come from anyone else but God and herself… that when everything in her says to quit, she’s capable of more… that she’s stronger than she ever knew. As life comes at her, as it will, I hope this gives her something to come back to – the knowledge that she can endure.
I wonder how different my life’s choices would have been if I had known I was capable of more. I listened to so many people’s negativity and insults and allowed that to drive my self worth into non-existence. It’s been a huge transition in my life to discover that what those people said wasn’t truth, not my truth. To find that I am worthy of love and respect and not to settle. It’s been a process to gain this knowledge, and it still doesn’t come naturally, but it does surface. It’s taken a lot of introspection, prayer, and wise friends further along in the journey to help me move forward. I can feel that it’s a new path and not the circular one I was eternally to be stuck on.
Progress… rewiring my ways of thinking that have run my whole life. It shows up in my training and certainly in dating. Dating was a rare thing for me. Typically, I met someone I was interested in and was desperate for their time and attention. Clearly what every guy wants is a clingy girl with no self-esteem. Yeah, it didn’t go so well for me. Now, I go on lots of first dates… mostly that are one and done… because I am finally able to see who is clearly not a match and move on.
My prayers about dating have changed too… Now, they sound like, “God, please bring a relationship of substance. A partner. A man who is capable of loving and accepting me in all my flaws. Please give me discernment when it comes to love.” I used to be focused on feeling lonely and even a bit jealous of the couples who had love. Now, I focus on self-growth and creating the life I want to live. I’ve learned that you train people for how you want to be treated. If I treat myself poorly, anyone around me knows to do the same. Instead, now I do my best to practice patience as I transition from my old ways of thinking to the new and improved. To give myself grace as I learn to love myself. To be a worthy example for my daughter. To see myself as God sees me. To journey through life’s transitions.
A few months ago, my daughter asked me, “Mommy, if you could do anything, what would your dream job be?” She’s 8, super smart, opinionated, quick-witted, funny, and really inquisitive. I thought for a sec and said, “You know, I’m super lucky and blessed to love what I do already!” I’ve been a Chiropractor for 15 years and I really do love helping patients and seeing their lives transform. She pressed and said again, “No Mom, your DREAM job!” Without thinking, “author” flew right out of my mouth! Honestly, I was as shocked as she was! I’ve always been an avid reader, since I was little.. in fact, my girl had just been teasing me about how many books I was into. We counted 9 – reading ADD perhaps? But to write a book? A book worth reading??? That would absolutely be my dream…
I think there’s pure magic in reading something that touches the heart and changes the mind to see the world differently, even just a little. Ever since she asked me that question, I’ve felt little nudges to start writing.. and so I have. Today, I registered the domain name and here I am writing my first blog. It’s a huge (scary) leap of faith for me. Feeling exposed and vulnerable… but that’s what life is all about, right? That’s where God really digs in and does His best work. My prayer is that sharing my experiences will help others along a similar journey.
Running and faith are so interconnected for me… I’ve been running pretty regularly for years, since my first divorce in 2012. It was an ugly divorce, a long grueling process. My world was crashing and I felt like I had only a few options for handling it… I would try to make light of things and say, “Well, I could either hit the bottle or hit the pavement.” I was trying to manage staying sane through the divorce, while raising my little girl (less than 2 at the time), running my practice, and dealing with the lawyers. I was on the brink…
I’ve never been athletic, never played sports growing up. In fact, I still will duck anytime a ball comes toward me! Oddly enough, though, I ran here and there over the years. Never longer than a few miles and not with any goal in mind. There was always something cathartic to me about running, even when I couldn’t go more than 2 minutes without feeling like I would die right there on the trail.
I decided to train for a half-marathon and it was life-changing. At a time when there was so much of my life out of control, running was one thing I could work at, see improvement, and feel a sense of pride. I didn’t have much support back then. No running group or running buddies. No support from family. In fact, a family member said, “What makes you think you could even do that? You’re not a runner!” But, something in me needed to keep going. The first time I crossed that finish line, it was incredibly emotional. The sense of accomplishment was completely overwhelming. That’s the thing about running… the only way to cross that finish line is to do it on your own. There’s something so incredibly gratifying to that…. so empowering! After that, I was hooked and now have completed many halves and even a full marathon.
I’m not a fantastic runner. I have good seasons and really rough seasons. But, it’s not about that for me. It’s about how I feel. It’s about being outside in God’s beauty. It’s about putting that training plan up on my fridge and marking off my runs. It’s about my daughter watching me set goals, train hard, and accomplish them. It’s about praying while running through the hills and valleys of life. It’s about connecting with the running buddies I’m blessed to have. It’s about knowing when to listen to my body and reel it in. It’s about feeling strong and passing other runners when I can! It’s so much more than just putting one foot in front of the other.
That verse from Hebrews is what I hope my writing may do: to spur one another on toward love and good deeds. I feel that my daughter really provoked that in me, brought that dream to reality. Here’s my first step down that path, my first blog. Hopefully, the first of many.
This weekend, I took my daughter shopping. My sweet and sassy 9 year old, was desperately seeking a pair of overalls. The 90s are back in full effect! (Scrunchies – I can’t even!) So, we grabbed a few things and headed to the dressing room. She tried on the overalls and a t-shirt first and unabashedly exclaimed, “Wow! I look SO cute in this! I love it, Mommy!” She continued on like that as she tried on the other things. “This looks SO GOOD on me!” I mean, loudly! So authentically! Part of me was thinking, “Ok, clearly we need to work on humility here.” I mean if a grown woman was saying that in the dressing room, we’d all have eye rolls galore (and probably peek out to see who this self-proclaimed awesomeness was in all her glory).
Then, it occurred to me that it was really beautiful and inspiring, how she talks about herself, how she sees herself. I joined right in and agreed enthusiastically, “You are gorgeous, baby girl! You’re rocking those overalls!” Sadly, I know that life will come along and tear down that confidence… body image issues will likely arise as she gets older, kids will find things to tease about, social media will creep in to steal her self esteem. I hope for her to go into adolescence with a mindset and armor as strong as possible. I want to protect this innate confidence she has built.
Part of the reason she has the self-concept she does is out of my fear of her having the self-esteem issues I deal with. So, I do my best to fill her up with positive vibes. For Valentine’s Day for the past 2 years, I’ve put up notes on her bathroom mirror as reminders of how special she is. (Stole it from FB – loved the concept) She loved it so much that she refused to take it down and even requested it again this year! This is something we could all use, right? How hard would this be to do for ourselves? Could we fill up a mirror?
It breaks my heart to hear people I love struggling with self-esteem, body image, and comparisons to others. These people are absolutely unarguably attractive and so much more than their good looks. But, we only see what we see. I struggle with the same… the weight that’s shown up since I turned 40, the cellulite that never goes away (training for a marathon doesn’t even touch it), the shape of my nose, the way I look in pictures… I could go on. It’s rare that I get relief from myself… I would never talk to anyone the way I talk to myself!
Why is that? Why is it so easy to see the beauty in others, even to the point of envy, but we can’t see it in ourselves. We can’t see ourselves the way God sees us.
The messages that replay in my mind are not kind. Honestly, most come from people who have no business occupying so much of my mindspace… But there they are, over and over again. I shared that in a therapy session some time ago. It made me sad but was so normal to me, all I’d ever known. My therapist asked me, “who’s the voice that stands up for you?” I began to weep and realized I didn’t have one. That was a lifechanging question for me and hit the core of my heart. I realized I need to let God, and the people He works through, be that voice for me. To open up to hearing Him.
My dear friend has reminded me that someone needs to earn the privilege of giving feedback in my life. It’s something I had allowed to happen freely with the wrong people. I would then take it upon myself to play it over and over until it became my truth. It’s not been until fairly recently that I’ve come to realize the lies that ruled my life… The distorted thinking that stole my joy.
I’ve heard it said that the enemy knows just how to attack us in the ways that sting the most. He cracks that whip again and again, until we are raw. But, eventually, we lash ourselves so effectively that we learn to hold our own whip, allowing him to step away and move on to the next soul to steal. Let’s set down that whip… enough is enough. We deserve better.
I’m a work in progress in this area of my life. I’ve made improvements, but it’s not a natural path for me to take yet. I notice the negativity more now, instead of it playing constantly in the background. When I pick up on it, I try to determine if it’s truthful or not. Is it consistent with how God sees me? Turning down the volume on the noise is a huge lesson for me. I pray that we can find peace in the quiet.
Maybe it’s just me, but when I decide to dig into something, I want it to be a smooth upward trajectory toward successfully meeting my end goal. I’m not a fan of the bumps along the way… things throwing me off course… old patterns showing their ugly ways. Nope, I want to make that decision and have it all go my way.
I realize how arrogant that sounds as I type it out those words. But, isn’t it true?
I talk about this with my patients daily in my office… I’m a chiropractor and have been treating patients for 15 years. One of my favorite parts of my career is seeing someone through their recovery. I’ll begin caring for someone who has taken the time to come in, wanting (sometimes demanding) immediate relief. They’re often in pain and not at their best. Their daily activities have changed, because of pain. Their exercise routine has changed, because of pain. Their ability to play with their kids has changed, because of pain. Sitting comfortably to watch a movie is long gone, because of pain. I have to gently set the proper expectations for healing… usually something along the lines of: “this didn’t happen overnight and it won’t go away overnight either, but it will get better. You won’t always feel like this!”
It’s so much easier to say that to someone than to hear it for ourslves.
I get it… I want that miracle cure too! Last fall, I had been training for my second full marathon and had progressed to running 17 miles for my long run. I was in the thick of the training, almost to my peak mileage. Two days later, I was leaving work, excited to finish up a bit early that day, when I was in a car accident directly in front of my office… my car was totaled and I had all the signs of a concussion and whiplash. Thank God I was alone, that my daughter wasn’t with me. It was completely surreal to be standing in the middle of the highway looking up at my office, not knowing what to do next. It all happened so quickly, but could’ve been so much worse.
I tried my best (against any advice I would’ve ever given a patient) to dive back into my training. I went out for an 18 mile run, as planned, that ended up being a pitiful walk. I had to accept that my body just couldn’t recover that quickly. This was bigger than sheer will. I would have to allow myself the time and grace to heal… something I’m not well versed in. I wasn’t able to run for weeks and was forced into realizing how much running plays a role in my emotional state. My go-to for stress relief had been running for years. That being stolen from me, and the constant pain, was too much. I fell into a depression and felt like a failure. I begrudgingly took myself out of the marathon so I would have time to get well.
It took months for me to get back to feeling like a runner again and I’m still not at the pace or endurance I’d like to be at. That second marathon still weighs heavy on my spirit. It’s easy for me to feel stuck on not having accomplished that goal, even though it was beyond my control.
What’s always surprising to me is that as people heal and start feeling like themselves, they completely forget how far they’ve come! It’s so much easier to see change in someone else than to see it in myself. I’ll often point out that two weeks ago, they couldn’t get on and off my table without crying out in pain or moving like they were 50 years older. They’ll have completely forgotten how they originally came in! Or they might not notice that they haven’t had headaches in weeks, when they had been constant daily burdens. God designed our bodies for physical healing, but it’s not always smooth. It’s typically two steps forward and one step back. The overall trend is toward recovery, but there are some setbacks along the way. After a bit, they usually get “over the hump” and the healing starts to really gain momentum.
Maybe it’s the same for emotional and spiritual healing.
I’ve often heard that when pain finally outweighs fear, that’s when change can be made. It takes something agonizing to push us to move toward growth. The fear is nothing compared to the heartbreak of living in pain like this for the rest of our lives. But it’s not smooth… not at all. Just because we make the decision to heal those flaws and character defects, they don’t just disappear.
God is the only one who can heal those hurts. Only God can grow tough scars to cover the raw wounds we all carry. The process is excruciating and humbling. Just when you think you’ve gotten over your hangups and can coast, the old patterns and weaknesses surface. It’s a test of patience, of faith, to continue on the path toward recovery. There are no clear guidelines or maps to follow. No GPS directions. Maybe it’s in using those setbacks as ways to help someone else along in their journey. To relate to each other, rather than judging each other. Knowing we all have our issues and though they might be different, but the emotions surrounding them are usually similar. It’s a matter of trying and failing and staying the course. Fixing your eyes on God so that all else falls into place. Finding progress, not perfection.
Ohhh, house hunting! This is a dream I’ve been working toward for a while now. My daughter and I had been to open houses every single weekend for months! At 8, she was using terms like “backsplash,” “open concept,” and “hardwood throughout.” Bless! It’s amazing how much we’ve learned going through this process together. Figuring out what we’re drawn to… what’s really important… where we can see ourselves building memories.
I’ve prayed and visualized about this for a long while… Coming through a divorce, I took time to rebuild, emotionally and financially. I had moved us abrubtly and we’ve been in an apartment ever since. Our place is lovely, but it’s always felt temporary to me. Forced. Not the place I envision us for years to come. To be able to decorate and invest in our future is a luxury we don’t currently have.
I’ve moved frequently in my life… For a while, it was at least once a year for over 10 years (from college through graduate school and beyond). Thinking back, the last time I felt really settled was when I bought my own little townhome back in Virginia. It was a fixer-upper, for sure! The man who owned it before me must have been some kind of lumberjack, since every inch was covered in some type of wood! Even the bathroom had wooden roofing shingles, on the inside! He did do something special in the living room, though… floor-to-ceiling mirrored tiles in the living room that weren’t hung straight, so they gave a funky fun-house mirror effect! It needed some love, to say the least, but I fell for it immediately. I walked in and it felt like home. I could see past the (MANY) cosmetic issues to it’s good bones.
Not unlike dating…
I tend to meet someone new, see past all the flaws and glaring character defects to their potential. I tend to give lots of grace in this area… have even gone against some of my so-called dealbreakers to date someone. It comes from a place of good intentions… knowing full well that I have many faults myself but still wanting to be loved and accepted. So, how can I not extend that to someone else? But, if I’m being honest, I’ve given in on things that are important to me… which leaves me feeling uneasy in my own life. It feels inauthentic, which chips away at my spirit until I become someone I don’t recognize, in a relationship that isn’t what I’ve wanted or needed. It’s a lonely place to be and it’s from my own choosing.
When starting the house hunting process, I was fully open to compromising. My dream home would have a beautiful kitchen, a library, and a screened in porch. Those three items were on my wish list and I knew it was a slim-to-none chance to find a home with all three. But, with God in the mix, that’s exactly what happened! I still am in shock that it’ll be our home in a month. It was eye opening in so many ways… that with God, anything is possible… but also, that this house was so worth the wait. I had put an offer in on another home that was beautiful, but didn’t have everything I hoped and prayed for. The offer was rejected and I was disappointed but moved on, knowing that if it was meant to be, God would work it out. So, on we searched… and searched… and then the house that will become ours came up.
My realtor, and friend, knew of my dream of a screened in porch and literally pulled this house out of thin air! It wasn’t even on the market, but she worked her magic and found it. The owner, an agent herself, had put the house on the market last year and it didn’t sell. This is crazy because in the area it’s in, the houses don’t last more than a few days without getting snatched up, especially staged and kept so beautifully. So, she rented it out and was about to put it back on market this year. My agent got to her before that happened and told her she had the perfect buyer! She sent me the link and I was in shock as I looked at the pictures. It was everything I had hoped for. The seller accepted my offer and told my agent that she now knew why her house didn’t sell last year… because it was meant for my daughter and I. When my friend told me that, I wept… It all felt so right.
That’s the feeling I pray to have with my next relationship… that it will feel right… not only having good “bones” but all the extras that I desire too. A dear friend of mine once told me that God was working on the most wonderful man for me, as He was working on me… That he would come “wrapped in a Tiffany’s box with a white ribbon.” So, why was I “settling for a Wal-Mart bag??” That image made me laugh right out loud! That visual is something I will never forget and have thought about when meeting someone new.
Dating in your 40s comes with its own set of complications… parenting schedules, exes, emotional baggage, geographic desirability, dating style, online apps. It’s not for the weak! It’s not something I ever imagined being part of, but it is where I’m at. It’s easy to get wrapped up in the logistics instead of remembering that God is in control and He has a plan better than any other. If it’s meant to be, God will work it out. That it’s ok to be choosy, to know what I really want and need to feel “at home” in a relationship. That even though a dating app tells me to “widen my preferences” to get more options, that I’ll hold out for the guy who is “move in ready” versus the “fixer-upper.” Until then, I’ll work on “remodeling” myself to become my best version. To keep my focus on God. To build a home that’s filled with love… a place for our little family to find comfort, for our friends to find peace, and to serve God. All else in His time.
There are times in life where we’re cruising right along… things are easy… … life is good! Those are the times when it’s easy to ride the wave, have blind faith, and go on autopilot. Maybe offer up a few “thank you, God” shout-outs and keep it moving. It’s easy to sing… to laugh… to run… there are positives everywhere!
Then, life happens and knocks you down. Sometimes it’s a quick take-down and resiliency kicks in to bring us back up. Other times, it’s things you think you’ll never recover from: grief, divorce, illness, tragedy. This is when my faith gets tested the most. It’s not as easy to blindly believe when I feel lost or beaten down by life. It’s hard to remember (or easy to get angry) that it’s all part of God’s plan.
A while back, I heard the phrase “Cope & Move On!” I don’t remember where I heard that, but the mantra has stuck with me for years. There have been points in my life where coping was all I could do that day. As I was going through two seriously hard divorces, there were many days where I would bring my daughter to school, cry in the car all the way to work, then suck up the tears, work all day like I was “normal,” cry all the way back home, suck it up to parent, then cry at night. This was my routine… coping was all I could do. Barely. It was not living life, these were times of just getting by.
I recently lost a dear friend of mine to cancer… someone who touched my life in the best of all ways. Janet was the older sister I never had. A beautiful sister in Christ with the most amazing gift of words and prayer that I’ve ever known. She was taken quickly by an agressive form of cancer four weeks ago. Those of us left behind are just learning to accept our new reality. Seeing her seat empty at church each week won’t ever look or feel right. Nothing about this feels fair, just, or purposeful. All of our hearts are broken and the grief is so heavy. We’re coping, barely.
Janet passed on my daughter’s 9th birthday, March 4th. It was another time of stuffing the tears, so I could celebrate my girl, and then releasing them to grieve later on. It was tough to feel such deep, conflicting emotions all at once. However, that day, I saw an image on social media that brought me to tears. I had never seen it before, since it would’ve stuck with me being that it’s about my daughter’s birthday. March 4th: the only date of the year that gives you words of encouragement… to March Forth. Wow! That hit home and I sent it to Janet’s family with hope that it would bring some comfort. Janet’s husband mentioned this quote at her funeral and it shook me to know that it brought them a flicker of peace. It’s not a coincidence, in my mind, that this date speaks to inspiring us to move through life with the promise of something in the future. It’s fitting for both my daughter’s birth and for Janet’s homecoming.
I pray daily for her family and our circle of friends… to be there for each other and to not lose faith in God. That would break her heart… it would dishonor her and the legacy she lived each day. Her faith was steadfast, even through her suffering. She was the model for practicing what she preached. If we choose to be resentful and angry, it would go against everything she taught. There are times for that, but it can’t be the end game.
Yesterday, I ran my first trail race ever! It was called the Texas Two-Way Torture Test – the name alone should’ve been a red flag! It was a 10 mile loop course with some seriously steep hills all through the Texas hill country. The teams had 2 partners who each ran a different direction around the loop… start together, hi-five in the middle, and meet at the end. I warned my running buddy that he would be waiting for ages for me to come in. When I signed up for this event, I didn’t realize it was a trail run. By then, I had already committed to my running buddy, so I went through with it. I was a nervous wreck about this race – the unknowns kept tripping me up.
It was a small race and I was often running alone. Trail running is something I’m definitely not familiar or comfortable with… even hiking makes me nervous about my footing! I had to be so careful of every single step, and I still almost bit it a bunch of times. Skidded down a few declines, trying not to fall! It’s so different than road running, where you can get in the zone and run mindlessly. I went into the race knowing that it wouldn’t be my best pace and embraced taking my time, running cautiously, and enjoying the beauty. Honestly, I was just hoping not to come in last (which my daughter teased might happen)! In fact, I was talking with another runner before we started & she mentioned it was her first trail race too. She smiled and said, “well, it’s my only one, so I’m gonna PR!” We both laughed and I shared it with my running buddy. It was a genius way to go into this race!
I kept thinking of Janet as I ran the course… how she lived her life in gratitude. The frustrations I had along the way (allergies making it hard to breathe, sliding all over the trail, ankles going every which way, hills that intimidated me)… these were nothing compared to what she endured. Not only that, but she did it with such grace. That shifted my mind to being thankful to be out running on a beautiful day, on a course that I never would have been on, to see the views that I did. Grateful to be healthy and capable of running, regardless of my speed or performance. I felt sore in muscles I never feel with typical running and loved that it was pushing my body and my mind. When I finished, I did better than I expected and enjoyed the race way more than I anticipated!
I don’t understand why God took Janet home so early, but I firmly believe that it was done with a higher purpose that will be revealed in His timing. Until then, I strive not to just cope, but to Cope and Move On… a little at a time.
In Honor of Janet
Last night I took a leap of faith and went to a large singles mixer. I was a nervous wreck, anticipating being sized up and the judgement that follows. I never expected to be dating in my 40s and it’s still startling at times. So, I ran around all over to find the perfect outfit, which is completely elusive when you’re trying to find something under pressure. Disheartened, I came home, shopped in my closet, and took my time getting ready… full makeup and hair for the first time in a million years. I convinced my friend to come with me, by telling him there are always way more girls than guys at these things. Good ratio for him, pretty pitiful for me. But, I told myself that I was going in with zero expectations, which helped calm my nerves.
The entire bar of a hip hotel was reserved for this event, so everyone was single and ready to mingle. The ladies were given tiny locks on ribbons to wear around our necks and the guys were given keys. A given reason to approach each other to find the partner to open each lock. After the locks were opened, there was a follow-up game where nametags were given out and you’d have to find your next match, lemon/lime or salt/pepper for example.
I was reminded how it can take me a minute to warm up to a crowd… I was slow to mingle and took my time people-watching as I sipped my wine. After a bit, a couple guys chatted me up… conversation was ok, absolutely no spark, but that was fine. However, the night went on and I could hear cheers as people found their matches around the room. It was like being back in junior high all over where I’m watching from the sidelines as my friends all start dating.
I was a bit of a late bloomer (aka totally awkward academic type) and that girl comes out full force in situations like this. It wasn’t till later that I learned to accept my dork factor and work with it instead of trying to hide it & pretending to be cool. In fact, the best conversation I had all evening was with another self-professed nerd. He asked me,”what is your earliest memory of being nerdy?” I told him what a great question that was, probably 3 times, before answering. Then, it popped into my mind. I was in either first or second grade, on Long Island, and checked out books from my school library to learn to speak Italian. My family is 100% Italian and each of my grandparents spoke the language, but refused to teach it. They used Italian as a way to speak over us kids… to talk about adult stuff. In that day, the biggest honor was to be American and that was what they wanted to pass down the generations… traditions remained rich, but the language was lost.
I told this guy that story and then asked him the same question back to hear his story. He said he was into computers for as long as he could remember, as a kid. I unwittingly replied that, “if you had a computer as a kid, I’m probably a lot older than you. I didn’t have one till junior high and it was black with orange letters.” He didn’t know what to say to that and quietly walked away… No loss, really, but it was amusing!
The entire evening, my lock never opened. I wore that lock all night and felt ridiculous but not surprised. It didn’t feel like rejection, exactly, more like being alone in a crowd. I did meet some lovely ladies and talked up my friend to a few of them (#wingwoman), but left feeling uninspired… wondering if I would ever have a match, a great love.
This morning, at church I heard a message that spoke right to my soul. The timing was a crazy coincidence (or more likely, a God-thing) that my pastor spoke today about LOCKS & KEYS! He could’ve said, “this one’s for you, Andrea!” It was that on point. He taught about how God is the master locksmith and is refining each of us to be able to unlock our hearts, our passions, our purpose. To be our own answer. He spoke of how God uses trials and struggles to carve our own unique key, so that we may use that pain and wisdom to connect with others. To enhance the lives of others.
I’m so guilty of trying to find the guy who would finally see me as worthy of love, instead of knowing that I am, and always have been. Not truly believing that God made me who I am with intention. Instead, constantly looking to others for validation, approval, and love. This has only led to heartbreak. And each time that’s happened, it only further affirmed that I really am unlovable, unworthy, never enough. I didn’t guard my heart, as God asks… I gave it away quickly, thoughtlessly. A vicious cycle to be confined to.
I think last night was exactly what needed to happen for me. The loneliness that tends to trap my mind needs to be repurposed into learning to see myself as worthy. To accept and enjoy being myself, just as I am. To turn off the negative talk that repeats incessantly in my mind. For until I know that I am worthy, without question, no one else ever will. Maybe I can then support others in similar positions. I can often easily empathize with others, but then have nothing more to give, since I’m still in my own mess.
This quote summarizes it so well.
“If you are not a part of the solution, you are a part of the problem.”. ― Eldridge Cleaver.
Let’s get those keys carved and unlock our best lives.
A week ago, I was running my Saturday long run (which is a pretty short run these days) when I saw notices for the Austin Marathon taking place the next day. Yellow diamond-shaped signs saying DETOUR AHEAD were all along Congress Ave., where the race begins with a steady incline for 3 miles.
As I passed those signs, I felt a wave of bittersweet longing. I had run that race last year, my first full marathon ever! The journey that led to the marathon was daunting, as it is with anything difficult. My next thought was how awesome it would be if life gave us those signs. To prepare for what’s to come. Brace yourself, it’s about to get real! Instead, life plays out and takes us by surprise…
A few years back, I had been dating someone who was also a runner. We often travelled and ran 1/2 marathons in new cities. I loved that we had that in common. At the Expo before the San Antonio 1/2, we were picking up our packets and I was eyeing the runners preparing to run the full marathon the following day. Their energy was palpable… all that nervous excitement was contagious. I quietly said, “I’d really like to run a full someday.” I surprised myself by even saying it! I had done a few halves by then, but never even considered a full. He smirked and snarkily responded, “Oh, really? A full? How about I’ll ask you tomorrow after you finish the 1/2, if you want to do a marathon.”
We each ran the 1/2 the next day and, in all the races I’ve done, that one had the most grueling climate. It was 80 degrees with 90% humidity. Runners were falling out all over the course… Medics were handing out popsicle sticks covered in salt to prevent heat stroke. Marathoners were peeling off to do the 1/2 instead of the full race. The conditions really were brutal.
At the end of that race, I met up with my boyfriend, wrung out of my running skirt, and sank down, my sweat staining the pavement. Without missing a beat, he sarcastically asked, “So, you’re gonna do the full, huh? Ready to do double what you just did?” He laughed right in my face.
That crushed me. I cowered and relented there was no way I could ever do a full marathon. There are times in my life where harsh remarks have dimmed my spirit and this was one of those times. It should’ve been a red flag, but I wasn’t yet strong enough to deal with it head on, or to end that relationship. I married him, instead…
It wasn’t until a year after that marriage ended that I revisited doing a full marathon. It started out as this quiet thought that became louder and more often in my mind. Maybe I could do it… I’ve since learned that voice is usually the Holy Spirit speaking to my heart.
I began researching Best Beginner Marathons and Austin was on every list I came across… convenient, since that’s home. Disclaimer: whoever comes up with those lists has issues with understanding Beginner Marathon. Austin’s course is intense!!!
Training was demanding, exhausting, challenging, painful, time consuming… all of the things. And, I loved it… I learned so much about myself from it. Each time I broke a new distance record, I felt empowered. Amazed that my body could do that. It wasn’t always pretty, and never easy, but it was possible.
I’ll admit, there were many runs that had an angry backdrop of proving him wrong!!! But it wore off, in time, and evolved toward building myself back up instead of allowing past hurts to cut me down. That’s where the running is about so much more than just running. It’s about the internal changes that manifest… That transformation feels miraculous. It can only be a God-driven shift.
Crossing that finish line was one of the greatest moments of my life.
It’s surprising to find myself feeling called to write about faith, running, and love when ALL of those things are so messy for me right now. It’s a reminder of how God’s plan doesn’t usually make sense when you’re in the midst of something new.
Life can change in the blink of an eye…
My faith has blossomed over the past few years… I’ve been so blessed to have landed in a church that is focused on transformation. It’s exactly what my life was needing and still is.
I started going to church every Sunday through my second divorce. I sat alone and would weep each week. Crying is a very private thing for me and has been throughout my life. I was taught that being “too sensitive” was a weakness, a flaw, so I used being strong as a way of coping. But, that’s impossible for me at church. The music and the message pierce my heart and draw the tears I try so hard to stuff.
Going to church was very much an “alone in a crowd” situation for me. Seeing the couples sit close and watching a husband put his arm around his wife would sting me with pangs of jealousy and loneliness. I felt like such a failure. That I had used up my chances at love and was destined to go through life alone.
My friend invited me to sit with her and her group on Sundays and I was quickly adopted into the “family.” I was led to a Church Family that has forever changed my life. To have generations of people that provide wisdom, faith, and love has filled such a huge void in my life and has given my daughter the extended family we don’t have here. It’s given us the community that church is meant to be.
One woman has especially touched my heart… She’s the most beautiful blend of Southern Belle with a twist of sass. She is the epitome of what we are called to be as believers… a faithful servant of God. She cares for people so truly, so authentically. She has the most powerful ability for prayer that brings immediate tears and relief, simultaneously. She radiates a warmth that allows anyone around her to be raw and vulnerable. She drops everything to be present for the ones she loves. She’s spoken more truth and scripture into me than anyone else ever has. She’s taught me to see myself as God sees me, which has helped to heal the deepest wounds in my heart. She speaks words of comfort without judgement or criticism. Her gorgeous blue eyes sparkle with such love, such joy. She is the older sister I never had.
She’s also fighting the final stages of cancer.
Cancer is pure evil. There’s no other explanation for it.
It’s heartbreaking to see such an amazing woman, so grounded in faith, to suffer this way. For her to endure chronic unbearable pain for months is beyond reason. The cancer is viciously spreading with a speed that is unheard of.
Without a doubt she is fighting this attack with every ounce of her being. She thanks God for every breath. She’s being lifted in prayer daily by so many and still, it progresses. It’s heartbreaking to know that she may miss so much she’s looked forward to… graduations, weddings, grandbabies. That this disease has taken so much of her former life… Her freedom, her peace, and her comfort have all been stolen.
The only relief comes in knowing that she will be at home with God in Heaven when it’s His time to call her up. That her misery will be over, eternally. There’s no question where she’ll be when it’s her time. Knowing that is the only peace I can find.
I don’t know how to deal with this… the grief comes in waves of anguish and sorrow. Her mind is failing at this moment and I’m afraid I might’ve missed my chance to tell her how much I love her. If she knew that this experience has shaken my faith, she would be devastated. It would dishonor her to allow that to continue.
All I can do is try to find purpose in the pain. To honor her in a way that allows her legacy to flourish. To live life as she does, the way God calls us to live… To take in the broken and give a safe space to heal. To give grace to myself and others. To know that actions of humility and mercy speak louder than any words. To find my worth in God and guide others to do the same. To love on my daughter in a way that allows her sprit to bloom. To share my story in a way that grants peace. To know that God places people in our lives with such purpose and to be mindful of nurturing those relationships. To strive to draw closer to God. To run toward redemption.
Recently at church, our pastor was talking about the afflictions we all have. Addictions. Illness. Compulsions. Abuse. Shame. Secrets. The burdens we carry. He has such a beautiful, genuine way of speaking and you could see visible raw reactions among us. I looked around and had this clear, strange thought… what if we all just wore our “labels” instead of hiding them. We all have them. Each of us carries pain from past and present that affects us daily. It pierced my heart and I began to cry… to know all the pain and brokenness that exists just breaks my heart.
My daughter is obsessed with this show, The Masked Singer. It’s a quirky show with celebrities, fully dressed in these incredible costumes from head to toe, who then perform songs while judges try to guess who they are. The entertainers share some personal background info as clues. What’s gotten me, are the stories they share of being afraid to sing, of the insults they’ve received, of taking a chance by coming out on stage to perform. We all tend to hide behind those masks, don’t we? Some are just as elaborate as the Masked Singer, although they’re invisible.
Brene Brown talks about masks and armor in her book, Daring Greatly. If you haven’t read that book, go get it right now. Amazing. She says, “Masks and armor are perfect metaphors for how we protect ourselves from the discomfort of vulnerability. Masks make us feel safer even when they become suffocating. Armor makes us feel stronger even when we grow weary from dragging the extra weight around… Our protection mechanisms may be more sophisticated now that we’re adults, but most of us learned about armor during these raw impressionable years, and most of us can be brought back to that place in a heartbeat.”
I think that it’s easy to get caught in that pit of being stuck in life. Repeating old patterns and bad habits. Resisting vulnerability and ownership of the part we each play in the mess we create. I certainly have. Pastor Randy says, “if you want to change your life, change your choices.” Ohhhhhh… that hits home, doesn’t it? There’s so much of life that’s beyond our control, but there’s also a lot that we bring on ourselves.
For me, it’s been dating and relationships. My closest friends have all seen that other areas of my life were pretty much in check, but relationships were a complete disaster. And not just once or twice, but for as far back as I can remember. My affliction is feeling unworthy, unlovable, disposable. It’s a message I received at impressionable ages that has shaped how I’ve viewed myself. It was then solidified by just about every man I’ve been involved with. I’ve had two failed marriages, both of which crushed my spirit. Self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps?
In a session with my therapist, I talked about the negative tape that loops in my mind… constant insults that cut me down. I hear it incessantly. She asked me, “who’s the voice that has your back? Who sticks up for you?” I weeped and realized I didn’t have one. How could I possibly expect someone to love me when I didn’t have a clue how to love myself. I started praying for God to be that voice and He absolutely sent a few people in my life so I could hear it clearly.
I’ve searched for the man who would prove the rest wrong. Who would love and accept me just as I am. So, I kept looking (and looking) outwardly. I did work on myself as well, but mostly sought out the next relationship, if I’m being honest. It was a cycle on repeat… trapped in my own troubled ways of thinking. I didn’t enter relationships from a mind space of how this person would support and care for me, I was in it whole-heartedly from the beginning and had high hope for him to be “the one.” The anxiety this caused was massive… crippling. I would label myself as a hopeless romantic, although just plain hopeless was probably more accurate! I was arrested in my affliction.
Running has helped me to build confidence, find endurance, and has certainly helped me to get through the tough times. My daughter and I have started running together and I keep telling her, “you are stronger than you think!” It’s easy to cheer someone else on, but hard to know it for ourselves. We all need to hear that… to find that voice. I hope she will hear that voice as she gets older and goes through her own trials.
In the past few years things have started to shift. After my second divorce, I began turning back to my faith. I had wandered off for years and ended up in a church that has led to a spiritual transformation. In the past few months, even more so. I’ve finally started to look up! To stop trying to force a relationship to fill the void in my heart. I’ve been blessed with amazing friendships with people that have become my Church Family. It’s been life changing for me. To finally feel some peace in my heart. I’m definitely not cured, but I’m open to recovery. I’m focusing on trusting God’s plan and healing my heart. I know God alone can arrest my affliction, but He needs me to do my part. To change my choices. As I’ve started to do that, I’ve definitely felt the shift toward serenity. I know it will be a journey, but I’m keeping Romans 12:12 in mind… “To be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer.”