#dancemom

i can't even!

two years ago, my sweet middle daughter d, came to me and asked if it would be possible for me to enroll her in a hip-hop dance class.  she used manners.  she exhibited an understanding of family time, obligations and finances...  and it wasn't manipulative.  she was 100% honest and sincere.

yes.

this is a yes, you should seize.

and so i did.  and my d went to her hip-hop class once a week and loved every. single second.  and suddenly i found my girl dancing through life.  she could barely walk ten steps without throwing in a high leg or a split or a shimmy.

she was in her happy place.

it was low cost/ high reward.

come spring, i was approached by her dance teacher and asked if we had considered "team".  no.
no, we had not.

we were invited to auditions.

and so we threw our hat into the ring and said, "why not at least try?"

and she made the team.

two teams, in fact.

what's a mom to do?  and so we accepted both spots, one on hip-hop and one on jazz.

we have not looked back.

my girl found her calling.  she is a dancer.  she loves every single second of it.  often, i find her stretching in her room or working on her latest position.

i find myself giggling from time to time and saying things like, "so... you know i'm a dance mom, right?"

i am so far out of this world.  i can barely do my own hair and makeup, but this year i learned how to do a "cat eye", fake eyelashes and a sock bun.  i didn't know i had it in me...  but #dancemom's got THIS.  (giggle)

and then came our first competition dance weekend.  d and i hit the road on a friday and headed out of town.  just me and my girl.  i'll be honest, i was a little miffed.  it was opening weekend of lacrosse and i was missing two of my girls opening games.

but i was also excited.  this dance world was sort of fun and new and exciting.

as we hit the road, my d started talking to me.  that girl LOVES to talk and with a few hours in the car, a mom never knows what conversations might open up.  and open up she did.  we talked about everything!  we dance partied.  we prayed.  we nervoused the heck out of things.  shared.  confided.  giggled and had a blast.

and in the midst of it all, i realized that my happy go-lucky middle girl needed THIS.  she needed time with her momma.  she needed an opportunity to challenge herself and experience how it feels to be an imperfect perfectionist.  she needed to push herself into the uncomfortable and do exactly what makes her happy while also experiencing discomfort.

she needed this crazy, talented, fun dance family that would be an extension of us and fill the gaps in her life that this momma could never fill.

and we got ALL of THAT.  my d has found her place.  she loves her studio.  she loves her instructors. she adores the stage.  she thrives under the pressure.  and lucky am i to get to go along for the ride.  but sometimes we get EXACTLY what we never knew we NEEDED.

delaney wins.  momma wins.

it's been an amazing ride.  and this weekend was recital weekend.  i looked at my girl mid-day, several hours in and said, "are you doing ok?".

she replied, "mom, i love every single second."

and i have no words.  when your kiddo finds what they love (or at least love right now), it is worth it all.  and if on top of loving it, you get little gifts (like extra 1:1 time), you take it and don't look back.

and so to my hip-hop jazz girl...  momma has no idea where you get your mad skills.  it is certainly not from me.  none-the-less, this momma is ever so thankful for you finding your jam, pursuing your passion, fighting through the hard and pushing yourself to excel at something.

#dancemom

#notinvited #ugly #jealous... choose your own blog post

as i started to write this post i realized that it had a lot of starting points in my mind.  a few rose to the top but one just wouldn't emerge as the winner...  so i wrote a few.  choose the start that speaks to you.  and then jump to the ending.


PART 1

1.) #notinvited


a few years ago, i started to notice this strange trend in my town.  mommas all around me were starting to verbalize minor irritations with not being invited to this or that by this person or that person (or sometimes even by me).  it made me pause.



for the better part of my life i just sort of went through it- being invited or not being invited- celebrating when i was, (oh, man!  doesn't it feel amazing to be included.) and letting it roll off my back when i wasn't.  i have felt the tinge of hurt for certain, but i can usually find rest in the boundaries of a party.  sometimes you just have to draw the line.  you can't invite everybody to everything.  it is a fact and it doesn't have to mean that you are less than.  celebrate when your included.  and i also try very hard to also celebrate for those that were, even when i am not.  we all need to feel that.  we all need community and togetherness and the feelings of "special", "wanted", and "chosen".



but for some, this just doesn't stick and when we aren't included it gets deep down in and is like a tornado in your heart throwing around negative messages all over the place.  and this little "not invited" moment begins to become something really big because you open up the filing cabinet and pull out ALL OF THE #notinvited and it turns into a huge giant pile of hurt.



2.) #ugly



i am a mom of a middle school girl.  it isn't easy to navigate these waters.  in the fall, my beauty came to me and told me she wanted a pixie cut for back-to-school.  i was caught off guard (yes, by a hairstyle).



you see, i had a momma with one working arm growing up and knowing her limitations, my momma forced me to have short hair (because she couldn't brush long locks and she couldn't braid or ponytail or... it was a function decision).  while i understand my momma's choice, i also remember being called "he", "your son" and "boy" way more often than i would like to recount. and it didn't feel good.  in fact, it made me feel ugly. (side note- short hair ISN'T ugly... but people can be insensitive and when you long for locks down your back and get called a boy it can make you feel ugly.)



when e came to me and asked for the pixie cut, the messages of ugly that i received during my short hair days came flooding to my mind.  i didn't really want that for her.  i tried to do a pros and cons list, tell my story and then ultimately let her choose (because she is 12, after all).  and she chose pixie cut.  and it was cute.  for a while.



now, she is growing it out.  we are in the not so easy to style stage.  she longs for the day that she will be able to rock a bob but for now we have a way to go.  in the process, my girl feels ugly.  oh for a mother's heart to hear her baby girl say this!  it breaks me every time.  my beauty can't see her own beautiful.  and she has so much beautiful.  all she can see is her short in-between pixie and bob hair that is currently defining her in her mind.



3.) #jealous


i am rocking out my 40's.  true story.  for me, my 40's are the middle place of this motherhood.  my babies are no longer babies, but i still have three lively kiddies in my home.  i'm smack dab in the middle of motherhood (not that there is an end date, but eventually they leave and the dynamic shifts a bit).



and as is such, i am in the middle of me and marriage and adult.  i have rocked out my first job, falling in love, getting married, buying a home, having babies, etc.  for scott and i, we have emerged from the financial struggle and sort of settled into where we are going to lie in this world.  and for the most part, so have the peeps in my life that surround me (with a million exceptions and fast changes along the way- nothing is ever permanent).



and as i watch this happen, i am noticing some subtle comments here or little twinges there in my social circle.  we as women, tend to watch our peers closely.  and it is less common for us to celebrate the promotion, the new car, the fancy vacation, the home upgrade, the handbag... and more common for us to get that little pull of jealousy and lust in our hearts.  when that gets in there, it tends to build a camp.  the camp multiples and manifests and has the ability to bring all sorts of commotion to your heart.  it disrupts the peace and contentment.



sometimes we love what we have and what our lives have shaped themselves into... until we see what HER life looks like and has shaped itself into...  and we put ourselves on this scale and weigh what we loved against what someone else is rocking out and it turns what we once thought was beautiful into something really ugly.







PART 2


TRUTH...

i was at a dance comp yesterday, sitting in the audience, minding my own business trying to make it to the awards ceremony.  my girl was done dancing for the day (and she danced her stinking heart out!) and i was exhausted.  we had a few more hours to go before the awards were called and i was sort of just wasting time in the auditorium watching some of the other dancers.



a troop with very simple leotards pranced onto the stage, roughly 8 teenage girls and one teenage boy.  i was intrigued because their costume was so simple, which is slightly unusual for a dance competition.  they wore a navy leotard.  basic, simple and also beautiful.  and then they began to dance.  i was overcome by beauty.  they danced to a song i had never heard and i began to frantically try and search for it.  the song, beautiful things by jordan smith, melted my heart... for me, for my pixie cut growing girl, for my dancer, for my little p... for my beautiful teenage babysitters... for my uninvited friends, for those that get jealous, for the one that feels ugly, for YOU.



(i swear this blog should be called diary of a lyric addict or something like that because so many posts are prompted by lyrics, but that's a whole different topic.)



"if once in your life you wished you were someone else..." - the opening line of the song...  and that resonated with me in so many ways.  you see, i grew up wanting to be anyone other than who i was.  it haunted me for years.  and lucky am i that in my twenties, i found a different story and melted into a truth that is my posture now- #ilovemylife, #blessed, #loved, #accepted, #chosen...  a message of affirmation and acceptance, a message of contentment.  and don't get me wrong, i have moments, lots of moments, where other messages burst into my heart.  however, my goal and posture is not to rest in those negative messages but to seek and pursue the positive ones.  i want to be surrounded by people and images and a life that fosters goodness.



but this isn't true for everyone.  some of you struggle with this in ways where your heart can't rest in that.  your heart doesn't feel that easily and the negative wins.  the dark messages permeate.  and it doesn't mean you are bad or wrong or less than...  we are all wired differently.



but the truth is this.  you are beautiful.  you were made to be you.  designed, crafted, and breathed into to be YOU.  your contribution to this world matters.  really, really matters.



"fight with the truth.  just be yourself.  just be YOURSELF.  somehow we are beautiful things."



and look for the beauty.  find it in you.  it's there.  i promise you.  find it in me.  even when it's hard to see.  celebrate beauty.  write positive messages on your heart and write them on mine.  let's all put our hands in and vow to let #notinvited, #ugly, #jealous, (or whatever negative messages that you allow to rent space in your head) to be a thing of the past and let #beautiful be the message that we own.



and as jordan sings, as he crescendos into...



your God is a beautiful thing

our world is a beautiful thing

our mind is a beautiful thing

our bodies are beautiful things

and colors and wonders are

beautiful things.


our voices are

your voices are

our voices just sing

just sing

just sing

your song


my heart expands and swells into fullness because those messages are life giving.



i could end this post here.

but i won't because, for me, there is more.



PART 3

for me, i only know how to write this message because of my Father.  you see, back in my twenties i made a choice to choose God, Jesus and a message of redemption.  i chose to live with The Holy Spirit in my heart and follow his lead.  and as i did so, i learned and allowed him to write "beauty" on my heart.



don't get me wrong.  i am filled with a whole ton of ugly.  it is there.  jealousy is down deep, too.  but with Him, those messages get covered with grace and forgiveness and chosen, on a daily basis.  often, it's like making a bed.  i get up and feel those messages, the negative ones, and have to pull up the covers with the real messages that God wants me to feel, covering over and transforming the negative messages.  it's a process.  sometimes the bed making is quick and simple.  other times, the bed making is as if i have twisted and turned all night, a little bit messier.  more wrinkles to smooth over.



if part three isn't your jam, that's fine.  my goal in writing is for you to know you're beautiful.  and that is a wonderful place for anyone to rest in.



but if part three speaks to you a bit, i would encourage you to pursue it.  pray, read, listen... let God write His message of beautiful in a transforming way.

beauty on the inside

last week i traveled back east to help transition my momma home.  my momma, who underwent knee replacement surgery in november and spent the duration of the next 60ish days in skilled nursing was deemed ready to re-enter her home environment.  it was my pleasure to get to walk through this part of the journey with her.

on our first day together in her home environment, i noticed she kept looking down at my ring.  my momma, always on the more practical side of fashion, tends to notice my gravitational pull towards the trendy.

"tasha, what is that ring you are wearing?"

"it's a geode.  nothing fancy.  just a little costume piece i am liking right now."

"oh.  it's interesting."  (that's what my momma typically says to me when she is questioning how a trend-loving girl could be "her" girl.)  she went on with what she was doing but kept eyeing my right hand middle finger adornment.

"i have something you should take home with you.  go to my bedroom windowsill.  it's sitting there and bring it to me."

i obeyed and walked into the next room to retrieve the object.

i smiled as i reached behind the curtain and discovered what I knew she had sent me for in her bedroom and anticipated the story that i predicted would follow.

"mom, tell me about this."

paraphrased... "tasha, i bought that rock a while back.  it's really interesting on the outside.  but a rock- not much to look at, right?  but when you turn it around, when you look on the inside you see that it is much more interesting.  hold it up to the light.  it's prettier than you can see in this lighting."

i did as she told me to.  i held it up to her kitchen light, and when i did, the colors popped.  shades of blue emerged and a glistening of yellow and sparkles of white and a depth that was not present prior to the light being shown upon it beamed to the forefront.  beauty emerged.

"mom, this is beautiful!"

"it's a geode, tasha.  it reminds me of your ring, but it is far more spectacular ."

"mom, why do you have this?"

"it reminded me of so many important things.  it reminded me when you were little that i desired to pray for each of you girls for you to find your geode.  i knew that i was called to pray for each of you and that finding the 'right' husband was imperative in your life fulfillment.  somehow, i knew you each needed your 'geode'.  the world would call you towards the shiny man on the outside- and that would be fine.  but i also knew that, more importantly, each of my daughters would need a shiny man on the inside.  at first glance, the outside is appealing.  it is a rock, after all.  a rock is good.  and when you initially look on the inside, that is good too.  but when you add light, pure beauty emerges."

she had me captive.  i don't always listen to my momma, but this time she had my attention.

"tasha, very specifically, from the time that you were little, i prayed that you would find a geode.  i prayed that you would find the man that would be interesting on the outside, sparkly on the inside, and would illuminate your life when eclipsed by the light.  do you know what the light is?  it's jesus.  i prayed you would find a man who loved jesus, and that when you did, you would find him to be the most beautiful thing you had ever seen."

i paused and in that moment thanked God for a momma who prayed and for finding my own geode.  i am married to that man.  he is interesting and shiny and sparkly.  and i was thankful.

she asked me to put the geode in my suitcase and to take it home and follow suit.  she encouraged me to pray the same prayer for my three littles.  i told her i would.

so often, i find my prayers focused on the immediate.  i lift up my requests to a God i very much believe in in the here and now.

"help e to be kind to the person that isn't kind to her."

"help d to make the team."

"help p to obey."...

and i know those are valid prayers.  but this was a beautiful reminder that i need to pray beyond.  i need to reach into their future and train today with my actions and let God guide their future by praying into it.

the weekend went on and my mom and i shared lots of dialogue.  she had a lot of little gems that she shared with me that weekend in the midst of adjusting to her new normal.

one of my tasks that weekend was to complete the final interviews for her care team.  currently, my mom can't exactly "live on her own".  she is dependent on others for assistance with her daily needs.  to expect her to dress, bathe, bathroom, cook, clean and even mobilize on her own is out of her ability.  because of this, we needed a secure and competent team in place to assist her with these tasks.  after a series of interviews and meet/greets, we found a team.  it was comprised of four people- an am week girl, a pm week girl, an am weekend girl and a pm weekend girl- who would assist her.  by the end of the weekend, these people were secured and put into place- with one caveat- we weren't totally "sold" on one of the caregivers but a better option had not emerged.

yikes.  what to do?

as i was preparing to leave on my day of departure, my momma mentioned that i had forgotten to pack the geode to bring home to my girls.  i sat at her kitchen table and looked at the rock.  we had just been discussing the girl we weren't sure of when clarity kicked in.

"mom, what if the girl we aren't sure of for you care team is a geode?  maybe she doesn't 'present well' but is the perfect person for you?"

and my momma smiled.  she responded with what i should have anticipated.

"tasha, i prayed for this care team and i believe that you might be right.  when you ask for a geode, God tends to give it to you.  and if it doesn't happen right away, He'll provide what you need when the time is right.  she's going to be a geode."

tears sprung into my eyes, tears the i had been holding back for the better part of the past five months, and i knew she was right.

God gives us what we need, when we ask for it, in His timing.  His ways are better than ours.  we don't always understand the hows and the whys.  most often, in the midst of us shaking our head in confusion, He is carving the way for us.

i packed the rock into my suitcase and left for the airport.  as i left, i hugged my momma.  she isn't always the most emotional touchy feely kind of gal, but that day, she called me back to her.

"tasha, give me one more hug.  do you know how much i love you?"

"yes, mom, i do."

"i've prayed for you my whole life.  God has been good."

and as i sat in my uber riding off to the airport, i pondered my mother.  she is often prickly, often feisty, but filled with so much goodness.  her heart is beautiful, and with the light of God shining through, she is radiant.  and then i thought of my family.  my husband became my geode the day he met Jesus.  i loved him prior, but i knew he was MY HUSBAND the moment he took a step into "light".  and i thought of my girls.  they certainly are geodes- often ridiculously rough on the outside but ever so shiny when they let the light illuminate their goodness.  and there is SO MUCH goodness within them.  and i thought about prayer.  it is the place, the posture, where i who can control NOTHING am given the opportunity to tap into a power that i don't understand but am certain transforms.

the next morning, i showed my girls the rock and then flipped it over as i told them the story that granny had shared with me...  i hope it sticks.  i hope that they find someone interesting and and shiny and filled with LIGHT.

for the past few months, so many thoughts have stirred beneath my surface.  our world is strange right now.  but the geode speaks to me on that level as well.  i truly believe that in the light we are all beautiful, made for goodness.  it lies in our core and is simply waiting to be cracked wide open.

One Armed Wonder

it has been a relatively quiet week.  Tuesday morning started with an early (very early!) check -in at the hospital, surgery and an uneventful recovery.  my sister was with me and we were pretty much chill for the larger portion of the day, hanging and getting the patient comfy in her new digs for the next day or two.

we anticipated 1-2 days of recovery and then a transfer to a rehabilitation facility, with 7-14ish days before momma was discharged for home.  but all of that was somewhat tentative because there really isn't a baseline for what we can expect from my momma.  let's face it, she's down to 25% limb function and the 25% she's got left to work with while the knee heals is compromised (she's due for a shoulder replacement next- oh joy).

on day three we were told that insurance denied her rehab placement.  i don't understand much about insurance and how things work but I do know that like most things in this world, it all comes down to dollars and cents.  the location that is optimal for her (equipped to handle a hemiplegic with brain injury, vision field cut, compromised shoulder and a whole slew of other physical limitations) doesn't come cheep.  and all the insurance company sees is single joint replacement on a piece of paper.  they don't see the patient.  in spite of the fact that she is a real live person, she's just a procedure in their eyes.  accepted or denied.  and it's not supposed to be personal.

for my sisters and i, it is very personal.  i was discouraged.  but that was not my job for the week.  my job was to be hopeful, optimistic and encouraging.  i was there to lift the burden on my sister and keep my momma's head in the game of rehabilitation.  and so i did.  my sister, with power of attorney, appealed the denial from insurance.  and then we settled into the task of waiting.  my hope was that i would support in surgery and then be in Philly for transport to the next phase, to help alleviate the burden on my sister.  that was not to be.  and i am ok with that in spite of the fact that it would have been nice to see firsthand what her rehab environment looked like.  but it's not about me.  it's about her.  and so for six days i simply sat with her.  i helped with pain management, teeth brushing, wheel of fortune guessing, comfort of body positioning, feeding, jeopardy competitions and mental stimulation.  and in that time, i've learned more about my mom.  she told me about her time as a camp counselor in new hampshire and her summer spent assembling toys on the line for fisher price (who knew?).  we talked about her time teaching on the military base in adana, turkey and her travels throughout euorpe and the middle east.  we talked about marriage, sex (her choice!  YIKES!), motherhood and politics.  she told me how it felt to lose her parents and be an orphan as a pre-teen, the joys and challenges of being adopted and everything in between.  

on saturday i showed up to the hospital for my last gig before heading home.   PT, which is usually off-limits to family members, was quiet. i've made friends with the medical staff along the way.  i don't shy away from a bedpan, sponge bath, or physical transport and i think they noticed.  i think it gave me a little street cred or hospital currency. as she worked hard at walking, her therapist motioned for me to come into the gym.

"do you want to watch your mom walk?"

YES!  (and honestly i'm going to be peering in from the hall anyways so you might as well make it easier on me).

and so i got to stand in front of her and she walked across the room towards me.  the therapist who was spotting her said, "walk to your daughter."

and i became eclipsed with emotion.  all i could see was myself 11 years ago sitting on the living room floor of my condo, coaxing ellie across the room as she took her first steps...  "walk to momma, girlie.".

my mom has had to endure learning to walk three times already.  she learned as a baby, taking her first steps in the world.  she learned in 1975 after her aneurysm.  she learned again in 2008 after she was hit by a car.  and again, now in 2016, my momma will learn to walk.

i know she will, but the magnitude of it all brings me to my knees when i pause and take it all in.

as i watched her walk towards me, cautiously and ever so slowly, resolved but timid, a man called to me from across the room.  it startled me for a second because i was so focused on her.  he asked me if that lady was my mom.

yes.  she is.

and then he went on to tell me that as he had sat in his wheelchair, waiting his turn with his therapy, he had watched her.  he had just been operated on and a pin was placed in his broken ankle.  he was middle-aged and fit.  he said that he couldn't imagine her story.  he couldn't imagine her pain.  and he knew just from a few minutes of watching her that she was feisty, determined and strong.  he told me that he was going to channel her in his recovery.  he told me that my mom was his hero.

i told him that she was mine, too.

he wanted the cliff notes on her life... he wanted to know what her story was and how she was so strong.
and so i gave him the quick list...

dad died when she was ten
mother died when she was 12
adopted
college graduate
served/taught on an army base in turkey
athletic
mother
aneurism
raised three girls on her own
lover of jesus and bible passage reciter
hit by a car
got up again

and as i went through her story, i felt tears trickle down my cheeks.  i know her story.  i know who she is, but sometimes it is hard to not see her through my "child" lens- the one where she is my annoying mother trying to guide me in the right way which was often very far from the way i wanted to be guided.  i sometimes forget to put on my "hero" lens.

and as i looked at this man, and thanked him for noticing her and seeing her beyond hemiplegic old woman, i noticed that he had tears trickling down his cheeks too.

"looking at someone like her, hearing her story makes me feel so silly.  all i've got is this little pin and it is nothing compared to that story.  i knew she was my hero, but i didn't know she was going to be that  much of one!"

and then we went back to the business of learning to walk.  (followed by a little snapchat sesh.  giggle.)

i left philly that afternoon not knowing what the plan was going to be for her final rehab destination.  it was hard to walk out of the hospital and fly across the country so very far away.

today, we received the news that she was accepted to the facility that had originally been denied by her insurer.  after waiting many hours, my sister was able to assist her being transported to her next stop.  we are hopeful and optimistic that she is going to be ok.

i feel pretty confident, that this girl has a few more lives left in her.  this isn't the end of her story.

reflections on 26.2 (i promise i won't say the "M" word again)

i don't really know how i got myself into this.  i am not a "bucket list" sort of gal and never really fancied myself a distance runner.  but one thing sort of led to another.  somehow i found myself achieving 13.1 several times in a row and then thinking, "if i'm ever going to go 26.2, it is a whole lot easier from 13.1 then it is from 0.0"  and in the back of my mind i was sort of craving 0.0.

i know myself well enough to know that most marathons are not for me.  most include hills and many miles of boring.  the one that could have been for me, possibly, was chi-town.  i heart my 8 years as a mid-western gal.  i love that i got to explore my earlier marriage years, advancement of my career and motherhood embarkment in a city.  quite possibly, this happened in the best city ever.  

and so when Lynnie suggested that carey and i enter our hats into the chi-town marathon arena two years ago, shortly after i ran a few halves, i said yes.

sadly, my lottery number was rejected.  and so was carey's.  and so was lynn's.  it was meant to be.  we were not supposed to run 26.2 in 2015.  and i thought "that is that".  

in the spring of 2016 carey got the bug.  she decided to run 26.2 in napa right after big 4 ut 0.  in an effort to support my gal, i decided to become a race bandit and i ran miles 14-25 with my girl.  (i promise, i didn't take any water or cross the finish line.  i just supported and encouraged.)

and then we all got the chi-town marathon lottery email.  because we had been rejected after entering the year prior.

and we all decided it couldn't do any harm to enter.  "why not?"

and then we all got in.

ut oh.

in june we started training.  but i had sort of neglected running for a wee bit and our training began at 13.1.  that first run out of the gate was miserable.  and when i returned home i was pretty sure that this gal had a serious injury.  off to my dr. i went.

and dr. a refereed me to dr. b and dr. b...  long story short i landed myself in physical therapy twice a week and chiropractic care for the duration of marathon training.  my entire care team was on board with the plan- this girl needs to run 26.2.  make it happen.

and they (and i) did.  it wasn't easy.  my ankle tendons were constantly swollen causing stress on my shins and my shins caused strain on my the tendons behind me knee and my knee caused lower back pain...  and it sort of stunk.  but i was determined to do this thing that i had set out to do.

and if you know me, you know that isn't exactly me.  while i front to be a "stick with it" kind of gal, deep down, i can be a quitter.  

but also deep down, i knew that running 26.2 was about sticking with it.  it was this super stupid, super weird, very grown-up, prove-to-myself moment, where i did exactly what i had set out to do.

and so i did exactly that.  i trained (barely) and i mentally prepared for doing this marathon.  

along the way, i learned a few things:

1.)  marathon training is like the equivalent of chicken pox or the flu.  it is rather alienating.  flowers draws bees.  running early every weekend morning draws nothing.  in fact it cuts you off from social engagements, turns you into a carb-loading freak and shuts down your social norms...  for a long time.  a very long time.

2.)  long-distance training is boring and alienates even your biggest cheerleaders.  family members who love and support you most of the time grow tired of hearing about chafing and knee braces and energy chews long before you have adequately prepared for your race.  even the most supportive family member tires of 26.2 long before you have even run 15.6.  

3.)  every training route will eventually become the most horrible path you have ever run.  it can be beautiful.  it can be lined with water fountains, bathrooms and rainbows.  it does not matter.  once you have done more that 45 miles on its course, you will hate it.  loath it.  that's how i feel about the iron horse trail.  in theory it is magnificent.  in reality it is ridiculously long and stretches from p-town to never-never land.  nobody should every run that far or that long or on a repeated track- regardless of how runner-friendly it is.  it is simply the best.  and simply the worst.  

4.)  last but not least, those in your circle, are amazing.  they support.  they cheer.  they celebrate.  when you think you can't take another step and might secretly dodge the marathon and just hide in the nearest nordstrom for the duration of the race and then take place in post race celebrations- they will emerge and guilt encourage you into doing what you set out to do.  

the week before my race my porch flooded with support.  and each and every time i was in utter appreciation of those that cheered me onward.

everyone knows i love champs.  really, they do.  but a customized label?  yes, please.  i WILL run 26.2 in an effort to gobble this down.

bling?  always!  tennis shoe bling engraved with positive messaging and the date of my marathon?  are you kidding me.  i HAVE to run the heck out of this thing now!  and why wouldn't i if i could stare at this for 26.2 and know how loved i am?  

seriously?  you had me at icy hot!  this gift bag covered the full monty- from bad breath (it's really a running thing) to tummy trouble solving pepto!

flowers in the hotel room?

friends the day of packet pick-up?

all of these things made running sweeter.

the night before the race, with all our gear lined up, things got real.  i was DOING THIS.  me the quitter?  yep.  me.  no turning back- just running forward.

and on that morning, i chose to do just that.  for the most part, my mind was in the game.  but i was also scared.  maybe even terrified.  you see, i knew that i would run 13ish miles in my normal mode- chatting with my gal-pal.  but i also knew that somewhere around 13 we would split ways and finish on our own.  i was prepared to do this.  and i was also terrified to do this.  the quitter in me was so afraid that i would download an uber or hop a cab when i hit "the wall".

these were fears i hadn't exactly communicated to my running pals, but they were ones that danced around my brain from time to time.

and so when i hit mile 11ish and my beautiful friend jen jumped out into the street screaming my name and her lovely little bess danced with a sign of my moniker, i nearly burst.  i was certain that i would make it.  no need for uber.  no taxi necessary.  i had the encouragement that i knew i needed but never ever expected.  amen.  hallelujah.  are you kidding me?

and then that sweet little duo popped out several more times between 11 and 25- encouraging me, loving me and cheering me on towards the finish.  words can't express the way that my heart nearly burst out of my chest as i saw them AGAIN at mile 25.

i knew that running my city would be surreal.  however, i had no idea that as i ran, my sweet lovely jesus would show up.  with each mile under my belt, with these cali peeps at my side, with my history lining the route, and my jesus-loving gal-pal popping up all over along the route, i realized that my God is with me on this journey.  He knows my story.  He knows my strengths and my weaknesses.  He knows my comings and my goings.  He knows my fears and the things i cling to with pride.  and none of it is a mistake.

and my heart swelled with joy and accomplishment and love.  love was weird to me- but i couldn't help but think about my sweet scott.  and our anniversary and a marathon weekend.  and saying "i do".  14 years later- i ran my marathon, with the beautiful support of my husband (who never knew i would be a runner), on our anniversary weekend, in our town, where we no longer live, and metaphorically i thought of us.

life is a marathon.

motherhood is a marathon.

marriage is a marathon.

and all of those things are worth fighting for.  sacrificing for.  training for.  preparing for.  digging deep for.  and celebrating.

and i swear, none of this would have happened. none of this would have been realized if it weren't for my lynnie and sweet carey.  i don't know how i got so lucky on the friendship end of the stick, but i really REALLY did.  i am surrounded by so many people who support me- God knows why they do- but they do.  and it makes this journey ever so sweet.

 even the journey of 26.2.  i am a lucky girl to have these ladies by my side.  while we ran, they taught me so much more than running can teach a girl.  the lessons are endless.

camp woebegone

kids.  who knew that they would change us in the many ways that they do.

not i.

i knew things would change, but i didn't know how connected they would be to my heart.

three years ago, i sent my eldest daughter to sleep away camp with our church.  it was a lovely experience in every way.  she went with some friends from church- not super close friends- but people she knew, and had a fantastical time.  she came home tired, with smiles and memories, independence and a personal triumph of conquering seven days on her own.

i was beaming from the heart out.  as a mother, we long for our children to have positive experiences and long for them to get to experience their "best day ever".  my girl rocked that out for a week in the santa cruz mountains and came home changed.

i need to back up for a minute.  and i feel compelled to defend a little of what i am about to say.  i am not a "woah is me girl".  i have rocked out lots of trials in my lifetime and take them head on.  in fact, i have learned that this is me and this is the girl i crave for my girls to be.  we ARE NOT victims and we ARE NOT weak.  strong has always had to be my middle name and i long for strong to be theirs.

but the reality is that my girl e, she tends to get the "short end of the stick".  utopia has never been her story.  fairytale land has never worked out for her.  we moved her on the third week of what would have been preschool in illinois but was kindy in cali.  we didn't know better so we put girlfriend in kindy- because we are rule followers and we role like that.  had we knows that most people do the "optional hold back", we might have considered it.  we didn't know.  our first grade teacher was out for half of the year.  we moved homes that year but didn't get a spot in our neighborhood school.  we commuted.  in second grade, the special program we were accepted into was shut down.  buh bye discovery program.  we would love to rock out whatever you have in store for us.  third grade brought 4 months of a teacher out on medical leave and a huge principal scandal.

with each of these changes, i watched my girl put walls up around her heart.  while she has always been smart, funny and likable, she built up these external barriers to protect her heart from hurt.  losing people, moving, and adjusting to change disrupted her need for routine and stability.  with each disruption, her heart detached bit by bit and i watched insecurity grow within her.  i watched guardedness build up around her.  i watched a need to protect herself by being less outgoing develop barriers.  and with each step, momma guilt grew.  i could not protect her from any of this.  

and then came fourth grade.  while we were in interim land with our school leadership, girlfriend had a solid year.  while we have loved all of our teachers, this year was a smidge different.  in fourth grade, we rocked out consistentsy right to the finish.  we had an amazing teacher, developing friendships and all sorts of highs.  good.  good.  cherry on top. good.

first day of fifth grade, we found out that her teacher had quit (or been run out of the school based on the principal scandal... or something).  either way, we rocked out a month without a permanent teacher.  e came to me and shrugged, "mom.  this stuff always happens to ME.  i don't know why but i always get handed the worst." and momma was flipping fed up.  over it.  not having it.

sick.

of.

the.

messages.

being.

written.

on.

her.

heart.

and there was nothing in the world that i could do.  nada.  zilch.  nuncio.

and so, again, we rolled with it.  and in the rolling we encountered the best thing that could ever happen to my e.  we waited and waited and waited and then got a rockstar teacher who filled my girls cup and developed a sense of self-worth and told her she was funny and let her be HER and validated her goodness and squashed her doubt and filled her up buttercup.

and then came summer camp.  we sent muffin to camp 3.5 hours away with our church where filled up buttercup developed an ear infection on day one.  first time in her life.  for reals.  my girl rocked out her first ear infection and her first stint on antibiotics in ELEVEN YEARS...  at camp...  under the supervision of the best doctor this side of the mississippi a random stranger who or may not have been to med school.   without her mother.  and girlfriend chose to stay.  we thought for sure that she would need a 3.5 hour pickup (and in fact, i was in favor of this), but she didn't.  she wanted to rock out camp.  and so she did.  she spent seven days away from her peeps on meds with a fever- not being allowed to participate in any water activities.  for most of the week, she sat on the sidelines and watched her friends play and frolic and enjoy camp life IN THE WATER.  she could not.

and she NAILED it.

i have never been so sad for my girl.  i have never wanted to rescue her so much.  and yet, i also was keenly aware of the pride that i felt in girlfriend channeling strong and rocking out an "i got this" attitude... even when it sucked.  life gives us a lot of that and we get to choose how we handle it.  do we bail or do we conquer.  i love the human that conquers.

my girl did that.

come spring this year, camp sign up was happening.  i was darn near certain that baby girl e would say a very simple, "no thanks", "been there done that no bueno", "camp is cool but i can't do that again".

but she didn't.

girlfriend was a huge, "fo shizzle, i am going again!  i need to redeem last year!"

right on girlie.  strong and determined is where it is at!

and then today...

i went to camp registration where 9 of her peeps were waiting to board a bus and all nine were assigned to cabin "A" and my girl (the one who i fear always gets the short stick) was assigned cabin "G".

and she broke down.

and she didn't want to go and she looked at me with crocodile tears and said, "mom, i can't do it."  "i can't go to camp and be alone again."

and at the risk of loosing bank, i supported her.  she was worried that i would be mad about loosing the money we had spent.  in that moment i realized that i have projected strength onto her- and that sometimes she just isn't feeling it.  and momma guilt set in.  i wanted to put baby girl into the car and drive away.

instead...

i went to the head of the head of the head and pleaded my case- "please for the love of pete, put baby girl in a group with her peeps."

after some arm twisting the camp peeps that be agreed to make a switch when she arrived at camp.  baby girl agreed to get on the bus.  she had tears in her eyes when i put her on the bus.  all her peeps were already situated on the bus with their friends and their was only room for her towards the back.  alone.

my heart broke.  but she stayed on the bus and resolved that it would be ok.  she was going to rock out this week.  provided that she was actually switched (which i currently have no control over).

and so tonight i write...  and with the writing i simply ask you to pray.

pray that my girl has an AMAZING week.

pray that she has new messages written on her heart.

pray that she is healthy.

pray that she has THE BEST TIME OF HER LIFE.

i sit at home tonight stalking the camp website looking for snaps of my smiley happy girl, but haven't seen one yet.

and my momma heart breaks because her story has not told her how wonderful she is.

and yet...

i believe in a GOD who has a plan to make her story unfold in a way that reveals her amazing.

she really is amazing.

and as i am slightly heartbroken and sad for what was supposed to be redemption week of rocking out strength, i know that God has a plan for her.

and that thought takes me to so many places.

sometimes we have to walk through a whole lot of messages to get to the message that really sticks.  sometimes we have to walk through a whole lot of trials to get to the joy.  sometimes the joy comes after the morning.

this life does not promise us rainbows and unicorns.  it just does not.  but if we look for it, we get them anyways.  they don't come easily, and often, they are found after many sorrows and disappointments and unfulfilled plans.

sometimes we don't even recognize them at first.  they show up and we don't even notice.

and so tonight, as i sit back praying for my girl to have a good week, i find myself also praying that better than this week is a life that is filled with awareness.  i pray that as she walks through each day of her life she sees the people in her path that need smiles, encouragement, hope, self-worth and love and reassurance...

and gives that to them without reserve.  all the while being strong, fierce and passionately in love with jesus. because at the end of the day, that dude is the only one that matters.  living like Him... is the only way.  it's often the hardest thing one can do, but it is the best way to live.

and i pray that he guard goes down and her love goes out.  her self worth doesn't rest in what happens to her but in who she puts her trust in...  and i beg that walls don't build because they don't protect us ever.  they simply inhibit out ability to penetrate the world around us.  and my girl...  she's got a whole lot of good to give.

Unencombered

I woke this morning to a call from my sister after an appointment with a surgeon.  My momma is in rough shape.  For 40 years she has been a one armed, one legged wonder.  Nothing stops her mobility or quest to see the world.  She's a fighter.  But today we learned that her half working body was failing her.  Her rotator cuff on her working arm is in terrible shape.  Her movement on that arm isn't working in her favor.  And we are faced with some really tough decisions.  Surgery?  Ride out a degenerative condidition as she opposes surgery?  The options are not ideal.  None of them.  And as sorrow and fear gripped my heart, I chose to use my body to its fullest.  With her as my motivation, I hiked Mt. Diablo.

Hiking is my new jam.  I am obsessed with finding and exploring new places.  I live so close to so many hikes that climb the way to eye candy and I find myself unable to stop exploring it all.  I am surged with a need to take it all in.  Because I can.  My body is able.  

I hate that hers is not.

I don't understand why she has suffered so many physical limitations but I am propelled by this need to take it all in because my body can go the distance at this point of time.  She would do it if she could and she instilled a passion for hiking way back in my younger years when she probably shouldn't have.

As a child, my family participated in a group called the Tahawus hikers.  It started long before I was born- a large group of families would hike the three miles into John's Brook Lodge for Memorial Day weekend.  We'd each show up equipped with our packs, our clothing requirements for the weekend and space for shared food.  At the base, we'd divvy up supplies into our packs and then make the trek to the lodge.  Once at the lodge we'd set up a kitchen, girl's bunk, boy's bunk and community space.  From there we'd choose day hikes to various peaks in the Adarondack mountains.  For the better part of three days we would rock out hikes, play in a brook, share community meals and engage in togetherness.

I went a few times but one time stands out in my mind.  It was the year that my momma chose to go with.  Yep, my one armed, one legged momma made the trek.  She didn't carry a pack, but allowed the greater group to divvy up her clothing, and hiked the three miles to the lodge.  With a cane and limited mobility.  And she nailed it.  She never waiverd.  She never complained.  She was slow.  She encountered challenges on damp parts of the trail.  She accepted help when necessary and tapped into her "I can do this" spirit.  

As child watching her momma take on this challenge, I had mixed emotions.  There were moments when I watched her in awe.  Moments where I was annoyed with her pace.  Moments where I was surprised by her sense of adventure and determination.  And each of those moments shaped me.  

When we got to the lodge, my momma didn't just sit back and let the greater group care for her.  She jumped in and was a part of the group.  She contributed and did the best she could to pull her weight.  

I remember the first day well.  One group of hikers set out to hike Mt. Marcy, the highest peak in the region.  There were three other hikes to choose from.  My momma chose to participate.  She did a hike that would take her by some waterfalls that she was looking forward to seeing.  I remember that there was some concern amongst the group, curious if letting her go was against her best interest.  Mr. Mathews, the head of the hiking team, was worried that she wouldn't be able to handle the terrain.  But not wanting to deter her, and knowing her as a hiker before she became handicapped, Mr. Mathews gave his blessing for her to hike.  My momma insisted that I do Mt. Marcy.  I remember her excitement well as I left with my group.  She wanted me to see the best of the best and she didn't want to hold me back.  Selfishly, I was happy to do so.

I remember getting back to the lodge after completing an amazing hike, expecting to see my mom who had gone a much shorter distance.  Much to everyone's dismay, the group that was with my mom had not yet returned.  We played in the creek and helped prepare dinner.  Looking back, there was a sense of fear from the adults as to why the shorter and less challenge taking hikers had not yet returned.  And yet, they tried to shield me from it.  There was this strange vibe that everything was fine, when nobody actually knew it truly was fine.  Nobody wanted me to worry.

Just a bit before dinner, several hours after they should have arrived, my momma's group marched into view and returned to the lodge.  I distinctly remember a cheer erupting as my mother rounded the bend.  The rest of the 40 or so hikers were so excited to see her standing, in one piece, finishing what she had set out to accomplish.  And I remember the fear lifting in my heart and the joy settling in as if it were yesterday.  My mom was ok.  

I don't remember much else about the weekend- just little tidbits- but my mother's accomplishment and the support from the greater group has always stood out in my mind.  I learned that weekend that sometimes, pushing your body and tapping into muscle memory, is huge.  I watched my mother do something that she shouldn't have been able to do and then witnessed the joy she felt from accomplishing a physical feat.  It meant the world to her and it impacted those in her presence in huge ways.  

You can do what you set out to do.  It isn't easy.  It takes time.  It requires patience.  It requires support.  But it CAN be done.

And so today, with my very able body, I hiked to the top of my little world.   And as I hiked I thought about a lot of things.

I have no idea why my mother, a woman who craves the physical accomplishment, has had to suffer so much.  And as I grieve for the challenges that continue to face her and how the failings of her body continue to limit her, I choose to celebrate.  Because this is a woman who doesn't back down.  She is a fighter.  I don't know what tomorrow holds.  I can't predict how her body will react to the stresses that have been place upon it.  But I do know that she is of able mind and with that she will rise above.  And for that I cheer, cry tears of joy and propel myself forward to do the things that she can't do any longer but taught me to do.

And I don't worry.  Because I as I take in these breathtaking views, celebrate friendship, and accomplish new feats, I know that the maker of this breathtaking beautiful world has her right in the palm of His hands.  Do I understand the why's?  Not even a tiny bit.  But I know beyond explanation that it is all going according to His plan.  Will it be hard?  YES!  Will it come with challenges?  YES!  But I know that it is the way it supposed to be.  How do I know this?  I can't explain it, but the wild flowers growing randomly speak volumes to my heart about how the maker of this world has a Master plan.

swoon

my sister showed this to me a few weeks ago.  when i first listened, i was moved, but not shaken.  since then, it has settled into my soul and kept me at a level of unease.

this song isn't my story, but it touches the nerve of my story.  and i've spent a lot of time thinking about that.

i think that the thing that lingers and has been rolling around in my head is that no matter what we tell ourselves, divorce has impact.  it hits hard.

at 40 years old i can remember the moving truck in my driveway.  i remember carrying my dad's shoe rack to the truck in an effort to help him as he moved.  it is a memory that is etched into my mind.  i wish it weren't.  but somehow a memory that took place at an age when i should not be able to remember things, is one that i can't shake.

i don't write today to rehash my own story.  in retrospect, i get why my parents didn't last.  it is complicated and personal.

my husband's parents divorced when he was an adult. it is also uniquely his and personal. he was in graduate school and says he wasn't surprised when they made their announcement.

true for him, and true for me, is a simple fact.  my parent's divorce at early childhood and his parent's divorce at early adulthood has rocked both of us to the core.

i wish that this post could be filled with wisdom and advice.  it just can't.  every marriage, every relationship is intimately personal.

but what i know is this...

marriage is hard.  and while all marriages can't be saved, i think that we have to fight for them.  we have to hold fast to the ties that drew hearts together.  we have to date each other.  we have to have to remember why we loved one another in the beginning.  we have to find ways to swoon.

somewhere back in my early dating years with scott, i gave him a magazine clip.  it read, "swoon" and pictured a perfect magnolia, unblemished or bruised.

the definition, according to webster, means to become very excited about someone or something or to become enraptured.

i haven't thought about that magazine clip in years, but he carried the word/image around in his wallet for quite some time. it was my way of telling him that for as long as he could, i wanted him to swoon over me.  i needed it.  and in doing so, he won my heart.

i look at my girls today.  they thrive when their daddy swoons over them.  when they get a good report card, when they succeed at an event, when they do something extraordinary, when they are their own beautiful selves, when they say something funny- they long for him to swoon.  and so do i.

when i pull off a creative party for one of my girls, or cook a fancy meal, or manage to nail a busy day with getting everyone where they need to be (usually in 27 different directions) with all supplies/materials in tow, it means more when scott swoons over me.

i don't know if the magazine clip in his wallet years ago has had impact, but thankfully, i married a man who tries to do this for some/all of us each day.  he didn't need the image.  it is in his nature.

and while marriage is ridiculously challenging, i think that the swooning has mattered.

and with each act of swooning, my own heart has healed, little by little.  i no longer think that the door is an option and that i will end up doing this parenthood thing alone.

that's sad.  but the reality is that somehow deep in the darkest parts of my heart i have always thought that the door might be an option for marriage.  i didn't want that to be true, but i always prepared myself for the fact that it could be true.  yuck.  i hate that.  but if i didn't say it, i wouldn't be expressing my whole truth.

because it was my own reality.

13.5 years into this thing, i am learning that men stay.  marriage can work and love can prevail.  it's not a given.  you have to fight for it.  really, really fight.  it isn't easy all of the time, but if you swoon over one another, and swoon over the people that emerge from your union, it can last.

but sometimes, in spite of all the effort and all the trying, marriage doesn't stick.  i get that, too.  but i guess what i think this song highlights is that you have to keep swooning.  

children are a tough crowd when it comes to understanding divorce.  since they aren't a part of the union, but a branch that emerges from it, their needs don't change.  they still need you.  all of you.  all of the time.  if you find yourself in a place where marriage hasn't lasted, swoon away.

the babies that emerged from your union crave it.  just look at kelly's eyes as she sings.  she can chalk it up to hormones, but i think it depicts a very raw and real emotion of needing to be loved.  we can love through swooning.

and through swooning over our families (wives to husbands, husbands to wives, parents to children), we can teach those in our families that they matter, are cherished and have value.

do that.

swoon for those that you care about.  it will always produce good and promote healing.  the world is filled with enough negative messages, go above and beyond to foster the positive.

give a little

a few weeks back my littles came to me to present a plan.  p had a piggy bank filled with cash and d had been coveting a giant sized stuffy from rite aid.  p wanted to use her bank to buy her sister the coveted bear.

momma was not on board.

i smelled trouble all over this transaction.  from the jump i felt like p was trying to people please and d was trying to use her big sister charm to get what she wanted.  i said no.  without hesitation.  i was firm.  p could not use her saved up dinero to buy sister something so large (literally and price tag).

both girls went away sad that the plan they had concocted had not flown over with the momma.

and i thought the matter had been put to bed.  tucked in.  lullaby sung.  done.  over.  night-night.

until...

a few days later i was playing a game with pops and mid-turn she asked, "momma, why won't you let me buy delaney the big bear?"

i proceeded to tell her that she was little and didn't understand the value of money.  $79 dollars was A LOT of money.  pops had been saving up for quite some time and eventually she would find something that she wanted to do with her pot.  d had not saved.  if d wanted the bear she could save her own money and buy herself the coveted lice habitat giant stuffy.

pops nodded and said she understood.

a few days passed and p came to me again.  "mom, i want to give d the big bear."

i asked her why.

she went on to say that she loved her sister and she wanted to give her sister something that would make her happy.

quite frankly, i was annoyed.  i was rather certain that d was putting her up to these frequent inquisitions and i didn't like that a sister would use their leverage to get what they wanted.  i began to question p.  "why do you want to give her something so expensive?"  "what happens when you give it to her and she treats you with unkindness?"  "if you give it to her, it becomes HERS.  you won't have the opportunity to take it back."  "it won't mean that she'll play with you."  "it won't mean that she'll owe you something."  "there is no guarantee that she'll ever use her saved up money to buy you something late."  "once you spend it, it's gone."

poppy contemplated my arguments and said she understood.

a few more days passed and little muffin came back to her momma and pled her case.

"momma, i want to GIVE it to delaney.  it's ok if she is mean to me and won't play with me.  i won't try and take it back.  it will be hers and she can do whatever she likes with it.  it will make her happy and she doesn't have a giant sized stuffy.  she wants one and i have the money.  i don't need anything and my money is just sitting in my bank.  i WANT to gift her with this bear."

i called in reinforcement.  "see what daddy has to say, pops."

dad had a similar message to mom's (thank goodness).  and we both finished with, "think about it".

another few days passed and pops came back to the parent panel saying she had thought it over and still wanted to buy the bear.

what's a momma to do?  i put both girls in the car, p with her owl shaped coin purse and d with hope filled eyes and drove the littles to rite-aid.

i was reluctant.  i was certain that this was going to be an epic motherhood fail.  i could hear the arguments that would ensue, with the bear at the center, unfolding in my head.

this was going to be a bad idea.  i was sure of it.

a few weeks have passed and i am eating my motherhood words.  the bear has not elicited any familial incidences.  d is enamored.  p is elated that her actions could evoke so much joy.  and not once has the giant sized bear brought forth any trauma or fracture to the sisterhood.

and i stand back embarrassed.  you see, i brought my adult eyes to the situation.  the questions i asked were fine, but my hesitation did not teach the lessons that embody the values i want my girls to possess.  p's actions of selflessness embody that.  her heart of giving, with no expectation of a return on the investment, speaks volumes.

i anticipated the worst.  but pops, she didn't give a hoot about how her gift was received.  she just wanted to give it.  she had the means.  she knew someone in "need"   desire, and she met that request.  it was sacrificial.  she went without while someone she loved got their dreams met.

d loves her giant sized bear.

pops is cool with being the giver, but she doesn't expect anything in return and hasn't really found much joy or satisfaction in my praise of her selflessness.  just giving the bear was enough.

and momma is the lesson winner.

my adult eyes cloud my vision.  my adult expectations jumble the return.

it is possible to give of one's heart and let one person's sacrifice exceed another person's expectations with joy felt on both ends.

pops is happy to give.  no expectations.  nothing needed in return.  and her heart is happy.

d is happy to receive.  no expectations.  nothing needed to give back.  and her heart is happy.  (easier than the first, but also notable because she didn't get caught up in any of the mess that can come from being the recipient of generosity.)

i have hesitated to write about this because i have honestly been waiting for the other shoe to drop.  but it hasn't.  love and generosity prevail.  sisterhood wins.  unconditional giving is real.  it can get messy, but it doesn't have to.

and maybe, letting love prevail early, creates generous hearts.  i don't know for sure, but i would like to think that poppy has learned lessons about giving with no expectation of receiving  that will carry her forth in this world in ways that i don't even know how to write about.  and i also believe that d will see the effects of this too.

and maybe even ellie.

and me.

and maybe even you.

can we give because someone wants something and we have the means to provide?  with no expectation?  with open hearts?

the giant sized bear has taught me that maybe we all can.

Top 15 of 2015

2015 has been an amazing year.  it has filled me with awe for so many reasons- and while it has had its share of sorrows, it has also had so many joys.

i like to focus on the joys.  and so, in no particular order, here are my top ten of 2015.

1.)  being a tourist in my city.  i loved the week that we spent catching up with mommas favorite people and introducing their kiddos to mine (in spite of the fact that they have spent many a day together before the long term memory kicked in).  i loved discovering new things (eataly!) and revisiting old familiar things.  it was also a good reminder that nothing stays the same.  i can miss my life in that amazing place but what i miss no longer exists.  life is fluid and moves forward downstream.  while i can ponder and reflect on the time that i hold sacred in that space, that space has transformed in my absence.

2.)  matrimony.  i heart the time i spent in austin celebrating my brother's nuptials.  it's hard to believe that the last of 5 siblings have jumped the broom, but it is true.  seeing him marry someone that is so thoughtful, giving and kind means the world to me.  seeing the rest of my crazy fantastical family was the icing on the cake round rock donuts.

3.)  watching the youngest buser almost drown while swimming for the pac dolphins make it to swim champs swimming the BUTTERFLY.  for realz.  baby girl almost drowned the first week of swim team.  i was pretty sure that coach brett was going to pull me to the side and tell me we weren't up to snuff.  but he didn't.  he took my near drowning girlfriend and turned her into a butterfly rock star.  given the family gene pool, i have never really thought that buser/browning blood was going to take us to the top of the roster for athletic skills.  but this year, it did.  it could be short lived, but that is why it goes down as a top ten for the year.  i'll take it!

4.)  run, forest, run!  er.  i mean, participating in my favorite day of the year (walnut grove's fun run) under the leadership of one, audrey gillette.  i have never before been under the leadership of such a thoughtful, well-planned, sincere, kind, and funny woman.  it has been the highlight (twice.  oy vay), of 2015 (may/november) to work alongside her and carry on a tradition of our great elementary school, raising funds for education.  not sure why she hitched her horse to this dead weight wagon, but i am delighted that she did.

5.)  dare.  who knew how amazing this program was?  not me.  but they came into e's class week after week dropping down ever so important life skills.  she learned about drugs and alcohol and what it looks like to resist that path, but maybe even more powerful was the message of self-confidence and "you are amazing" that they poured into her.  we were stunned to discover that her writing skills and the knowledge she gleaned through the program landed her a spot as one of the class speakers for the year end graduation assembly.  proud of this girl, always.  but shocked at her courage to rock a mic in front of an auditorium filled with adults.  yep!  sure was.  it was a tear-jerking moment for me as a momma.

6.)  getting time with this girl... my best friend from high school, my college years and beyond.  i have missed jen's role in my life so much.  and while there have been years of absence, finding her again in my life has been a highlight of this year.  i look forward to what the future holds- even if miles separate our hearts, my life is a better place with her in it.

7.)  cabi, getting time with my sister, and the people that make her cali show so successful (what can i say, i tend to gravitate towards shoppers with good taste).  i cherish the shows that allow my sister to visit my peeps.  i celebrate the time i get to spend with my local gal-pals in the name of fashion and i cherish those "after the show late nights" that usually unfold.

8.)  a garden party and a birthday girl.  while d came into this world in december, we do the friend party thing in june.  i found great joy in planning a fairy garden party with this little party girl, we call delaney.  she loves a par-tay, has unlimited creativity when it comes to the details of an event, craves the perfect event attire and is filled with joy in the process.  it was my pleasure to watch her and the girls she has chosen to surround herself with play and frolic in the garden (even though it might have been the hottest day of the year).  they were delicious.  this just might be the sweetest group of littles that my heart has known and i am so thankful that they are part of my d's (and my own) life.

9.)  getting to watch the girl that grew my babies when i needed a break become a momma to baby jack and getting to watch baby jack grow/thrive under the care of his laugh-out-loud, amazing parents.  (you can move back to the bay area anytime now...  ah hem.)

10.)  travel.  i love to travel and see new things that this world has to offer.  in fact, it is one of my favorite parts of moving to this coast.  there is so much to see, so much that is new, and so much of god's beauty bursting forth in just a short drive from where we get to call home.  visiting carmel with scott for a little getaway was nothing short of amazing.  the town, the history, the wine, the ocean, the cheese shop (!!!), and the time alone together made my heart happy.

11.)  the p-town ladies and so many shared traditions and experiences.  these girls were the genesis of p-town feeling like home to this girl.  i adore our dinners, our daily ramblings, our nights away together, wine tasting adventures and everything in between.

12.)  a box of love (in tiffany blue).  i have no idea if the tiffany blue part was intentional but back in the 90's i was a little obsessed with little blue boxes filled with trinkets from my favorite jewelry store.  if it came in a blue box it was sure to be treasured.

this year, as part of my 40th birthday extravaganza (more on that later), i was gifted with a blue box filled with notes.  each note was from a loved one, family member, friend from all different parts of my life.  each note was filled with a memory or special note about our relationship.  it was the greatest blue box i could ever receive.  i will cherish each and every note (and the people behind them) for a lifetime.  the box consolidated the abundance of love, relationships, laughter, and joy that fuel me each and every day.  i have no words to express the gratitude that i have for the people in my life.  lucky feels wrong.  blessed feels trite.  but somewhere, someday i will find the word that expresses the heart spill i feel for the people that have surrounded me in the past and present.

13.)  did someone say maui?  scott went overboard on the birthday celebration when he surprised me with a trip to an undisclosed location.  i think i already mentioned that i love to travel.  when you live on the east coast (or the mid-west for that matter), hawaii doesn't always make the most sense.  the caribbean is more logical.  and so it should come as no surprise that this girlfriend has never put her toes in hawaiian sand.  until now.

it was pure delight to spend many days on a beach.  alone.  with my husband.  that hasn't happened in a really long time and the memories we made will carry me through to the eons from now when we might get to experience it again (fingers crossed).  what can i say?  my hubs knows how to treat his girl.  #keeper

14.)  running.  i mean spending time with these girls while doing something i love hate.  i am a runner.  i like it sometimes.  but what keeps me going is the people that i share my runs with.  carey and lynn you make my runs so much more enjoyable.  in fact, without you, i would hate it.  with you, i actually find joy in the process.  my soul thanks you.

15.)  turning 40?!?  what you talking' bout, willis?  yeah.  it's true.  i loved turning 40.

what happens when you load up a bus (with girlfriend's favorite people), take it to the city (girlfriend's happy spot), fill your tummies with food (girlfriend's faves of lemon meringue pie, cheese plate and a few other tasty morsels), and dance your pants off like it's 1999?

you burst with joy.  and that is just what this momma did and that is exactly why this momma loved turning the big 4-ut-0.  how can you not love that?  how can you not celebrate and shriek with joy when you are surrounded by so much goodness?  yes, my wrinkles are more defined, my waistline is expanding, my memory is going to hell in a hand basket, but with these amazing women who carry me through my day-to-day life (supporting, encouraging, giggling, sighing, and LIVING), who cares about the downside.  the number is what it is, but the experience is because of those that enhance it.  i'll take this life any day.

i could go on.  there is more amazeballness (totally a word) that make this year stand out, but a momma has got to draw the line somewhere, right?

it has been an epic year.  when i find that word that encompasses blessed/lucky/overjoyed i will let you know, because that is the word that describes this year for me.