And still counting ... (15,766-15,838)

for her feisty heart, for her integrity, for her desire to stand up for what's right, for courage, for strength 

hamburger patties, green beans, meatloaf, ice cream, carrots

for her brave example, for good books to read, people for whom freedom is worth it all, a sovereign God, a fresh bed

autumn colors, Nadine, Nora, Anita, Beckie

Ann W, Christy, Amy D, Erin, Lanie

a note tucked in a used Bible, Erwin, the heavy bag, new hobbies, frozen Snickers

soft shirts, those silly big dreams, a high school hangout for my high schooler, books at the library, homeschool

a next goal planner, new priorities, milkshakes in the car, loaded hot chocolate drinks, a first fire in the living room woodstove

Sunday naps, long runs, the mini mugs from Crate and Barrel, chickens peeking in the window, small diced green and red peppers on the pizza

heat humming upstairs that lulls me to sleep, sweater weather, tree-lined drives in late October, rainbow pears from Trader Joe's, the sweetness of ripened pears--really so memorable and divine

memorable characters in books and life, Erin's new desire to beat Liam for top score, Lanie's mention of her new friends at school, canned corn, a phone call with Tracey

her watercolor projects, Squid Game and how she was watching it too, dystopian story lines and that she's reading too, that she called me, that she loves me

the cherry pit bags Ann made that still keep us warm on chilly days, family, for open doors and closed doors--grateful, for Beckie and her interaction with Lanie's piano teacher, that she's my friend

salted garlic butter toast, a blustery fall day, a comfort meal, and leftovers, texts with Tracey

an application submitted anyway, a 9-mile long run, a neighbor's request

 

What's in the fridge

 I planned my grocery run later this week, so when I meal planned, I needed to work with what we had available. Last night's dinner was inspired by a comfort meal a friend made for us a lifetime ago. 

The ingredients list for that chicken and sun-dried tomato dinner: a jar of chopped sun-dried tomatoes in oil (empty the whole jar with oil), pasta, cooked chicken breasts, red and green peppers (small dice), onion (small dice), roasted asparagus, and Parmesan cheese. Extra olive oil, salt, pepper, Italian seasoning, and garlic powder to taste. 

It was a blustery fall day yesterday. Sometimes overcast. Sometimes spitting rain. It was nice to have an easy-to-make meal at the ready. I made up salted garlic butter toast to serve alongside. Shane really like it all and had two servings. 

This morning, I came downstairs and said aloud, "I really liked that dinner last night. I'm so glad there's enough for leftovers tonight. I'm really looking forward to that."

Shane chuckled.

"What?" I asked.

"This is usually the point where you look at the stove and see you failed to put the food in the fridge overnight," he mimicked the very deflated reaction and sigh I have when I notice that. 

Thankfully, our house was chilly enough yesterday that the dish cooled pretty quickly, and I could put it in the fridge when we were finished. 

Application

That first year running, a neighbor saw me from their window running laps on the driveway. That first year, I stayed a month trying to run one round. They called me "Rocky" behind my back, and finally to my face. I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not, because I knew they thought another neighbor was odd for running his driveway. Maybe I was just another oddity. 

That second year, a different neighbor saw me out in freezing temps, on windy days, or running in the rain. He saw me show up every day. He commented to me once as he was setting out the trash can at the curb, "You're dedicated." And I wore the compliment as a badge of honor. I was beyond laps and onto miles. 

When I saw a question in a group about why people ran, my answer was, immediately, "Because I don't want to be like my dad." While he died when he was 80, he was overweight, unable to walk from his door to his mailbox, and was sedentary all day long. Those years were hardly full of life. I didn't want his pages of health issues and his bottles of remedies. I didn't want to be anything like him. So I kept running. 

In all the seasons, I kept running. I wondered at neighbors laughing at me over the coffee, and I would console myself that I put in more miles than they did. It even became a joke with me and Shane. He'd be coming down from his morning coffee as I came through the door, done and sweating. 

"I'm better than you," I'd say, jacked on endorphins, as he put on shoes to go workout.

"How many miles did you do?" I'd ask when he finished (the answer is zero because he lifts weights). 

"How many did you do?" he'd ask.

"Seven."

"I did eight," he'd smile. It was our joke. (He's a beast in his own right, and if we were running from a bear, he'd win. But if we were running for endurance, I own that victory.)

The thing is--I could name any number of people and know I was leaving them behind. They didn't run or exercise or whatever. Why would I even measure myself against them? They were never going to run. Period. Comparing myself to their effort or lack of was hardly an accomplishment. My showing up for myself was already ahead of them. Was it even competition? And if it was, who was I competing with--someone sitting on the couch, making excuses, giving half effort, a short-cutter, a quitter? That's lame. I'm going to measure success by that?!

An opportunity came up recently that I had been waiting for--an application to be part of an athletic promotional group. When I pulled up the application, I saw how far I was from even qualifying. While they didn't care about age or speed, they did look for: number of races, multisport level competing, involvement in athletic groups, a volunteer track record, and an active social presence. The fact that I ran every day and biked wasn't enough. 

Sure, I left behind the ladies on the couch, and I crushed a dead man in the driveway dash, but those are hardly credentials. 

And this is my point: Where is victory if I'm comparing my results to people who aren't even trying? In my training, I was looking at the wrong people for inspiration. I was looking behind instead of ahead. I need to focus on where I want to be and gain inspiration from the people who are hustling and working and not making excuses. I need to compete with myself: not settling for good enough, but constantly working on improvement.

Last week on my long run, I decided to push it. It was work, and my legs felt it. When I got home, Shane was coming up from the dojo. 

"Guess how far I went," I asked him.

"Seven," he answered.

"No."

"Eight?"

"Nine."

I enjoyed the look on his face. Mostly, I savored the accomplishment of a distance I had never before run. The work is no longer about anyone else but me, and that changed everything.

 

Nineteen

When Shane was giving me a hug goodbye before he left for work, I mentioned, "Nineteen years ago we were heading to the hospital."

"Who knew then that you'd give birth to a chemical engineer?" he mused.

I smiled. But it hit me hard: I had no idea of what was in store for that little baby making her way into the world. The full-color, bursting emotion and potential in every one of us. My sweet baby was love in my arms, and all my best memories are because of my husband and kids.

Recently, I packed up books on raising kids to sell--apparently Christian parenting books don't hold their value in the second-hand market. I felt a sadness at the books--some of them I absolutely hated, but mostly they reminded that that stage is over, and that felt sad. 

My oldest birthday girl looked especially lovely on her birthday as she readied herself for a college class. 

"Want to take some pictures?" I asked, and glad that she said yes. After a few, she mentioned she wished she could hold a chicken. Easy enough.

 

We celebrated with mac-n-cheese, burgers on the grill, and ice cream sandwiches (homemade with a brownie outer layer). An over-the-top dairy feast (last year we toyed with dairy free to see if it would help with complexion, but it didn't really do much for the inconvenience of it all). 

I thought about how much has changed in a year. Last year, she was quarantined from an exposure from her piano teacher. This year, she's a driver and got to hang out with the STEM group, and later, hug on chickens. 

Nineteen years ago I held a baby that I loved so deeply. So full of mystery and potential. Got to watch her grow and change. All the years it took me to understand her, something that no parenting book could teach by formula, something only learned through the heart, and how I wish I had known that sooner. It really seems like yesterday that that older woman gazed upon us, me and the girls awaiting Shane to get a cookie after our ornament expedition, that older woman who told me to treasure it all because it goes so fast. I can hear the words as if she just spoke them a moment ago. 

Thank you, God, for Lanie and this life and this journey.

Day story

 October 2021

Outside my window, the cozy melancholy of gray skies and golden leaves. Fall is falling on the yard. Crunchy leaves under my feet. The smell of autumn in the air. Rainy days and crisp sunny days. Dark morning runs with a headlamp. Some nights lately feel chilly, and the girls and I crave a fire. But not yet. 

And I quote,

"When the trail passed through Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, I thought about John Brown's raid that had taken place there. I wondered, if I had been a slave, or if I had been white and lived 150 years ago, whether I would have had the courage to fight against slavery ... In a short stretch, I was reminded how diverse and unique our country is, and how our history is one built on triumph, tragedy, and a lot of walking." Becoming Odyssa, Jennifer Pharr Davis, page 173, 174.

Giving thanks for freedoms, however shrinking. And this is true. I signed up for a Thanksgiving race in November. Since Thanksgiving looks different for us, and I would run 5k anyway, I figured I might as well get a shirt and a medal out of it. On the fence about the Bridge race this month. I need to decide today. I push down the deep grief that I may never step foot in France or Switzerland. It is so deep, but still there is life, and I am determined to do what I can with what I can, if that makes sense to anyone but me. 

In the school room, so many books and blankets. I am selling books and reading books and checking out books and buying books. My tastes and pursuits have changed so much this year. Lanie picked out the classes she's taking next semester: a second chemistry level, physics, another calculus, a STEM program requirement (guest speakers), and macro economics. Erin spoke up, "I'm taking economics this year too." Shane quipped, "Really?!" 

"Yes, HOME economics," and ohmygosh, I LOVE THAT KID. This year has presented unexpected challenges for her, and she freaking rises. With fight and fire. And I know in the deep of my heart that my girls were created for such a time as this. God is good.

From the kitchen, I made a meatloaf from a Wellness Mama cookbook. It was so good. A comfort food with mashed potatoes and green beans. Shane had seconds, and so did I. And I savored the comfort and the flavors. I savored the fall views outside and the warmth of the kitchen table light. I looked across the table at my husband, my best friend. And everything seems so vivid and acute this month. Savor. Savor. (I was going to attend a meeting for a new hobby, but I need to read up some more before I go, and I think Shane was glad I stayed home, and I was so aware of time.) (Also, frozen Snickers.)

I am free.

I don't want to forget how little their hands were, and how this place was a dream, and all the memories and wonderful seasons and holidays and ordinary days we've had here. We are thinking of moving and intentionally beginning our search. And there is a measure of excitement and hope there. And there is a measure of sadness too. With a friend recently about a different matter, but it is in this too: when we created something so beautiful, and for right or wrong, better or worse, ends are sad. I am so thankful for here. This home. These trees. This life. 

I am reading Becoming Odyssa by Jennifer Pharr Davis (actually just finished this morning), Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson, Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving, and Live Not by Lies by Rod Dreher.

I value integrity. And it's become bigger than I ever imagined.

On the letterboard, a nation's anthem.

I am hearing Stromae (so many songs!), and One Republic's Counting Stars. And Woodkid's Run Boy Run. A friend and I talked about dystopian movies, and I checked out a movie I loved as a kid: Logan's Run. I haven't watched it yet, but hope to this week. Why do so many elements of dystopian stories seem prophetic? At least most come with good soundtracks and edgy fashion.

A view of my favorite things

this was inside a used Bible I bought

birthday gift and post-run vibe

You judgin'? Haha. Whatev.

bike partner

local celebrities

This kid's expression basically sums up everything I do. Also, definitely gonna do that hair.

watercolor with Erin

A dear friend since our girls were in kindergarten

 

At the table, an elegant lunch window-side with Anita. And then an industrial vibe hangout with Beckie. Upcoming, tbd dinner location with Ann from college. And I think that each of these meetings hold something deeply meaningful, authentic, beautiful, and true.

At the table

I had lunch with a long-time friend recently. Our lives have gone in different directions from the times we've shared a path. But I am thankful for her friendship. And that day, I was thankful for her authenticity. 

I was thankful for the times she shared the real and hard parts of her life. 

I was thankful for invitation to tender heart spaces.

I was thankful for her tears and that she didn't have to pretend with me. 

We reflected on life as we both contemplated this next half. How life may not have looked like we wanted it to, or thought it would. How we each/all carried a dream we'd hope to see fulfilled, a vision of what life could be, and how in many ways, it wasn't that. That no one would ask for heartache, loss, or disappointment. That no one would imagine loneliness, exclusion, or failure. 

Oh, that we could invest the best of ourselves for such a time (in a church, in a job, in a family, in a friendship, in a community, in a cause), and still fail. Still hurt. Still ache. 

And this is life. 

We talked of how we wish we could go back to our younger selves--and I grabbed my own shirt collar in shaking example of how I'd rattle that girl and get nose to nose and say, "Stop. Crying."

Which is kinda funny not funny, because: four. 

This is life. When maybe all of us just wanted all the beautiful, all the fullness, all the experiences, all the love, all the laughter, all the meaning. And along the way, we found betrayal, loss, heartache, grief, anger, injustice, division, evil. And it all got smudged together like a messed up ball of Play-doh. Never the same. Never pure again. But still, sometimes surprisingly cool. 

And still counting ... (15,697-15,765)

 Apothic pinot noir, beef bourguignon, carrots, mashed potatoes

herbs for chickens, chicken cuddles, milk chocolate, wood to stack, cooler temps

two coffees, faster running times, longer distances, texts with Beckie, books on hiking

texts with Anita, a lunch date scheduled, watercolor chicks with Erin, Lanie's laughter when she comes home from classes, the fun guys in engineering

organic pears in beautiful colors, Kat's helping hand, chickens ranging in the dog crate, their soft coos, new running shoes for September

a haircut for Erin, pizza out, her first day of co-op, the homemade chocolate mousse for home ec, butterflies

a last jump into the pool, how cold the water felt, water running races, swimming laps with Erin, a bikini I wore this summer

Bible verses that build me up, Bibles in different translations and large print, vitamins, October goals, Ashlei's enjoyment at self defense

a tea date with Sharon, how time flew as we talked, that we both showed up in dresses, friendship, fall

peanut butter banana smoothies for lunch, bike riding with Erin, a headlamp for dark runs, 5 miles in heavy rain, the Halloween run over the Bay Bridge

that a friend wants to do it too, a gift in the mail from a lovely friend, being a helper instead of a teacher at the co-op, mall wandering with Erin, how good running feels--I never want to take this for granted

Mike taking the tint off the windows, for Lisa T rocking the "N-O", books in the mail, projects with Erin, Lanie branching out

Moon books for travel, the softness of chickens, the heavy bag, lip liner, birthday wishes

a fun laugh with Shane about a package, good sleep, dates on the calendar with friends, October days, that winter is coming