2021 end of the year reflection

I love doing this--looking back at a year. It's still only November, and I usually try not to even look at the questions until December, but I did, and the answers came pouring out. Here it is with a month to go. This year was full and fruitful, so it was hard to narrow things down to just one thing that was best or unexpected. These made the public cut.

1. What was the single best thing that happened this past year? So many good things: getting to be a running ambassador for races next year; Lanie graduating high school and thriving in college; the chickens; running.

3. What was an unexpected joy this past year? Running nine miles. Being picked to be an ambassador. Chickens.

 5. Pick three words to describe this past year. Intense. Revealing. Liberating.

8. What were the best books you read this year? So many, but here are ones I'd most recommend: Soul Survivor by Yancey; Becoming Bulletproof by Poumpouras; It Didn’t Start with You by Wolynn; Talking Back to Purity Culture by Welcher. Not all the time, but with these certainly, when I get a book from the library and love it so much, I usually get myself a copy.

10. What was your biggest personal change from January to December of this past year? I got clear on my position on faith, integrity, my walk with Jesus, my choices and my goals. And I learned that I will lose people along the way.

20. Create a phrase or statement that describes this past year for you. “I’d hate me too if I were you.” Pitbull, I Feel Good

When you get clear on an issue, it clears a lot of people out of your life. Setting boundaries and crushing goals will also clear a lot of people out of your life. For me, those things (getting clear, setting boundaries, and crushing goals) were intense, revealing, and liberating. I doubt this year would have been so full of growth and fruit if I had stayed where, who, and how I was. Also, not everyone is on the same side, even if they say they are. 

 

 

On your mark, get set, stop

Yesterday was a cold 25 degrees when I laced up to run. It's been cold all week, but that mark brought some resistance in me. I went anyway. I dropped my gloves and jacket by the first half mile as I warmed up. I ran five miles. Effortlessly. I could have gone farther, but decided to stick to the goal. 

I looked forward to the hottest shower I could stand. I was shivering in my sweaty wet clothes, after my breakfast of cold yogurt and frozen blues. The hot shower was wonderful. And then, the unexpected. I was shivering so hard, my muscles all tensed when I got out of the shower. Shivered myself into a back ache that got worse with every move. I gave up the thought of jeans and went for sweats. I cried out as I got onto the bed, and Ruth jumped up in concern. (For the record, she doesn't get on the bed.)

All day, intense back pain. Limited mobility. I was on my back for hours to alleviate the pain. By evening, Shane was shadowing me up the stairs as I forced myself to walk up. I truly cried myself to sleep in disappointment: while most people were looking forward to Thanksgiving today, for me it was all about the race.

And I was a no show.

My number unclaimed.

My plans canceled. 

Thanksgiving used to be my favorite holiday, and maybe one day it will be again. But I didn't really plan a meal or a timeline or much of anything for today except for the race. The race was going to be my new tradition. The race was going to be the highlight. We were going to be "that" family that ran turkey trots (ok, we being me and my posse tagging along for moral support.) the morning of Thanksgiving.

Last year's race was canceled a few days before "go" because of restrictions. This year's race was off because I shivered my way into intense pain. (Ugh, this makes no sense. Having been so careful to pace myself, cross train, not get sick, and all the responsible, practical things to prepare for a race. Cold takes me out? I told Shane I have dropped my resistance to moving to Florida. Let's go.)

I look at the clock and know that I would have finished up the run by now, would have been taking a photo at the backdrop, would have been smiling and beaming and showing the kids the medal. But instead, I'm wreaking of icy/hot cream. I'm wrapped in a blanket with a hot pillow to relax my muscles. And I'm waiting for Shane to finish his workout so that he can put things in the oven for me. While I can stand and sit reasonably well, I can't bend over, and certainly not while holding anything. 

So today, I'll bake Cindy's apple pie. I have a tiny turkey breast, a box of instant gluten-free stuffing, sweet potatoes, and probably mashed potatoes. I'll start a fire and pull out the Snape tree for the school room mantel. God willing, we'll scoot out to the ornament store tomorrow for Erin. (I got my ornament at Tractor Supply: a chicken--of course!). And, God willing, we'll window shop along Main Street stores tomorrow and get a hot chocolate. 

Today, I'm most thankful for Shane for calling to check on me yesterday and for carrying the load when he got home. For being ready to steady me or catch me as I walked up the stairs. For showing great compassion as I cried myself to sleep from frustration and disappointment. And for his gentle caution even this morning when my thoughts went into my default mode of "how do I make this work?" While I'm thankful to be the person with a "where there's a will, there's a way" attitude, I'm also thankful for my man's restraint that there will be other races on other days, and to take time to heal so that I'm not out longer than I need to be. (Oh, even now I'm thinking of how I can still fit in the mileage to make a 30-mile week, assuming my back is better tomorrow.)

Ready to move on to Christmas and the New Year.

Say that again

"Sometimes the hardest part about setting boundaries is letting other people be disappointed and not owning that disappointment for them." Tory Eletto, aka @nytherapist.

"Limiting yourself is never a good plan. Go try crazy things!" Melissa, Runners Over 50.

"Don't stop when you're tired. Stop when you're done." Every gym in the world. 

"In all my years of pastoring, I have learned this lesson: a person's spiritual maturity is not truly visible until they don't get their way. Then you see the person." Erik Reed

"We prayed we wouldn’t be here, didn’t we? Or that we wouldn’t have to do this? That decision we had to make, that season we had to revisit, that sacrifice we were forced to give, that rejection we had to endure, that battle we had to fight, or that life circumstance we just prayed would not have to be a part of our story. And yet it was. It is. Maybe we are in the thick of it or we can reflect back and see it clearly, that we THOUGHT God would protect us from this. But He didn’t. We had or are having to live it out. But as we do— as we walk this path before us— we begin to stumble upon blessing after blessing. Wisdom is gained. New strength is found. Restored peace is discovered. And a different kind of trust is forged— one that realizes that maybe this, too, was His protection. We see that this, too, was love. Provision. Kindness. Mercy. Power. We see that this, too, was a miracle. The very thing we hoped wouldn’t be true became an indirect answer to prayer. Because the Savior always sees what we won’t + can’t. It’s why only He can rescue us." Cleerely Stated

"I'd hate me too if I were you." I Feel Good, Pitbull

"The Bible doesn't teach us that we will never have burdens. It actively tells us we will be persecuted, endure trials, and wage war with darkness. The question isn't if we will experience hard stuff; it's how will we respond?" Tim Tebow 

Welcome to the cringe place.

And still counting ... (15,839-15,910)

 hope, certainty 

long-shots, the high of happiness, a chance taken, the humility of reward in light of experience, opportunity

Marshall's Mom, Kristine, Sharon, Amy T., a tribe--a faction--of athletes

combat boots for Erin and me, renewed focus, no excuses, freeze warning running

the hum of heat, good sleep, salad, fresh veggies, running

a headlamp, a headband for my ears, frost on lawns, watching the sunrise on a morning run, the way frost glistens like a field of diamonds--stunning

occasional glimpses of sunset, woodsmoke smells, how the chickens rush to me to chat me about their day, chicken cuddles (all of them, for sure, but especially Lucy Gray), Ruth

loaded pizza, the encouragement of friends at my good news, butterflies in my stomach for a duathlon, that man of mine, how the skeleton of plans in January 2021 have been fleshed out over the year in ways I wasn't able to imagine

chicken pillow patterns, dinner with a college friend, for this path and this life, contentment, peace

oatmeal, hot pillows, maple coffee, 2 weeks of no chocolate, run plans for the next year

tea in the mail, the shirt from Born Primitive (oh, like butter and an amazing fit), chocolate advent calendars for the girls, a calendar for the cats too, the run club on Strava

that You hold it all together, reminders to focus on You and trust in Your plan, 66 Books, the writers on 66 Books, this year reading through the Bible together

Erwin, Jen, Dave, Mandy, Amy T

Kellie, Erin, Faith, Bayo, Carol

closed doors, a good playlist, carrots and hummus, holidays, fairy lights on the mantle

Day story

 November 2021

Outside my window, glowing gold and muddled reds. Fall is best in November. All you Anne of Green Gables folks and your Octobers--what is that compared to the stately richness and maturity of November? It's not even the same class of beauty. I'll take November's final bow over October any day. November is the finale song that leaves an audience sated. November leaves nothing behind. It's my very favorite.

And I quote, "Congratulations, you've been selected ..." Is there any sweeter beginning? There is not.

Giving thanks for November first (today!), an early start, an extended run with a headlamp, no lingering knee pain on the run, and all the building excitement and anticipation of what this day held. I woke up with a joy and a hope that anything was possible. And, thank you GOD, it is. It is! But that moment in the waiting, of possibility, of dreams. Is there any other high that could compare to hope? (Perhaps, the high of certainty ...)

In the school room, blankets and bags of books. An explosion of learning. Hot tea (orange ginger mint by the fine folks at Republic of Tea). A hot pillow upon my lap. A lunch break.

From the kitchen, awaiting a homemade pizza. I love the pizza steel. I love mini diced red and green pepper, and onions. 

I am stoked. I told Shane this is a whole new level of obnoxious adrenaline. I can't wait. (Oh, the restraint of all caps and exclamation! The struggle is real.) I have a song in my heart, and this is joy. 

I don't want to forget the darker side of humanity. An abrupt turn from elation--we are watching a documentary called "The Last Days" about Hungarian Holocaust survivors. How friend and neighbor turned upon friend and neighbor--and I learn from history of the deep recesses of darkness and hatred in man's heart. I guard my own. I see the world simmering today: anger, segregation, discrimination, condemnation. Nothing good comes from those beginnings. Nothing good.

I am reading, or plan to read pending initial impressions: Legend by Marie Lu; The Maze Runner by James Dasher; The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood; Lovely War by Julie Berry.

Around the house, laundry spinning, piles growing. I try to thin out things. Organize. Take stock. Chunks of time piled to be donated--all those early years schooling. I'm moving in my mind, and I try to decide what comes with me. 

I value endurance.

I am hearing my kids talking. I love that they are still here. Savoring this time when we are four.

On the letter board: November is my favorite.

A view of my favorite things:

 

At the table, reconsidering what Thanksgiving will look like. Only Shane and I eat the traditional foods. And who doesn't love pie? Maybe we should just eat pie this time? Pecan pie. Pumpkin pie.Yummy! Regardless--that morning, I'm racing. A first of a what I hope is a long-running tradition.