Bitter sweet transitions.

I really am working on a post (or two, or three) of our trip last week to New Mexico and Arizona. It was incredible and I have amazing pictures to share. But being true to my metaphorical nature, I have something to say about so much of it and I need more time to get the right words connected to my thoughts.

Till then…I just got back from a 16 mile run and right now the trees here on the farm are incredible. It honestly makes 16 miles entertaining, if you can believe that. As I came upon this tree my mind started doing it’s thing, going a mile a minute- that would be my mind, not my legs, just for the record! As I stopped to take in the beauty of it all, I got thinking about seasons, and my left hip flexor actually. And all at the same time. I digress. Anyhow, I love this time of year; the change of colors, the anticipation, the fresh sounds, the switch from one thing to another, the transition. Fall will never get old to me and after living in parts of the country that don’t have this season, I do not take this for granted. It makes me thankful to be a runner!

What strikes me about this tree specifically is the perfect depiction of the past and the future all together as one. It’s in transition; partly summer, partly winter. It’s moving from one stage to another, some leaves more quickly than others. It has a foot still in yesterday and a hand in tomorrow.

So do I.

It wasn’t long ago my oldest son and I took our first breath together, he learned to ride a bike, and dreamed of playing football. We talked about Rescue Hero’s (remember those guys with biceps that were bigger than its head?), Elmo, and the fact that cowboy boots, shorts and a halter top were not a good choice for the fashion conscious (in December). Now we are walking together across a football field (he in full pads, me beside him) at his last middle school football game, researching airsoft guns, and spending hours and hours and hours at basketball practices. Elmocize has now been replaced with conversations about wise character choices, consequences of “guilty by association”, and um….g.i.r.l.s. (helpmeJesus!!).

There’s still an innocence of yesterday but the desire for freedom for tomorrow.

It’s a transition. A season of partly child, partly teen. And some parts are changing more quickly than others; therefore, as I stood staring at this tree, I thought “me too!”. The tree, and I, are still trying to hide and protect the young innocence close to our trunk, and yet keenly aware of the process of maturing happening around the edges.

It’s bitter sweet. Season’s always are. I still adore the Dakota of yesterday. I’m incredibly proud of the Dakota of today. I know I will be amazed at the Dakota of tomorrow.

Land of Popcorn

Much of my grad school focus so far has been on trauma and grief therapy for children. It’s a bit daunting. I cry a lot; I feel overwhelmed with the statistics and wish this work onto someone else who doesn’t have the tender heart that I have. However, one aspect of working with children that is fascinating is how they see the world. Adults so often take for granted that our cognitive minds allow us to see things in a much different way than children (who are very concrete and have limited past history in which to put things in perspective). It is amazing how they fill in the blanks when their brain can’t figure something out just yet. This issue is incredibly significant when working with children because as they draw, re-enact, or recreate a story….we are often times dealing with their perceived reality (not that the “reality” is any better!). Even if their understanding is somewhat skewed from how it actually happened, it IS their experience and that is what becomes real to them….and sadly enough its traumatic either way!

Recently we had run out of popcorn and I had told the kids they would just have to wait until I went to the store the next time. Of course I NEVER promise a date on that deal…they don’t so much understand “I got busy”!

Madelyn says, “Well we can just go down and get some off the bushes.”

I’m sorry what my dear?

“Oh ya Mom the bushes are full of popcorn!”

I stood there for a minute…

scratching my head…

But then it clicked, and as the laughing turned to funny tears…

I got thinking, wouldn’t it be great to see the world as they do?

All along I was seeing a field of cotton, she was seeing a field of popcorn!

Oh child, give me your eye’s for just one minute…..I wonder how different it would all seem!

I like Maddie’s version better!

Start ‘em young!

I had my windows open yesterday and overheard this conversation in my front yard:

“Madelyn, if you learn to be on special teams now, you can get a college scholarship and make money!”

Oh? I thought. I went to the window to peek out and this was the scene:

Ramiro was punting and teaching Madelyn how to catch and return the punts. It’s all about special teams ba-by!!

(She would be the one in the pink jammies on the left about to catch the football!)

There was something precious about that moment!

I love the seed Ramiro was planting in her, and gender was not a factor! And I love the fact that he’s forecasting a college scholarship and making money! Right on kiddo!!

 

If these roads could speak.

What would they say? Oh, these roads. If only they could speak.

Would they tell you that I’m faithful? Would they tell you that some days are good, some days not so good?

Would they mention that they’ve seen it all? Day after day, stops and starts, beginnings and ends, ups and downs.

Would they tell you that though I’ve come soooo far, I still have far to go?

If these old roads could speak, I wonder….would they tell you that I’m stubborn and will not give up?

Would they mention that I often get it wrong? I do when I shouldn’t, and don’t when I should?

Would they tell you that the red face isn’t always heat, it’s often the process of letting go?

And yet if these roads could talk, would tell you that I run through Weeping Willows with my arms outstretched like a plane

because its fun to pretend your flying? Even when others are watching.

Would they mention that I laugh out loud, pray out loud, and sing out loud- just because I can?

Would they tell you that I’m just a kid who still wants to play and this feels like “fun”?

I know they would tell you that I see the weirdest things. That often the unexpected is just so funny!

I know they would mention for some reason I talk to the cows, like I do my dog. And they don’t respond the same!

I know these roads would tell you…

 

that I didn’t intend….

to start…

a neighborhood canine exercising service!

But I have. accidentally.

I’m afraid these roads could have a lot to say!

The broken places.

I love that God speaks to me in the most unusual ways. I love how He uses my vision to minister to my heart.

I love that when I walked up to my Granny’s garage/driveway, I saw this:

 

….but I heard this: “Jill, I have called you to bloom in the cracks of life.”

I’ve got to be honest, my first reaction was “Well thankyouGod….seriously, can I just be in the flower beds with all the other pretty flowers?” It’s true. I’m not proud of my attitude, but I am thankful that He speaks to me through the simplest of things. Even if I don’t particularly like the message!

I’ve thought about this picture constantly since that day. I’ve thought about how difficult life can be. How pain can scar lives. How brokenness can feel so deep that hope drowns.

When I took this picture with my cell phone, I saved it as my wallpaper. That flower (blooming right there in that specific but most unlikely place) made so much sense to me!

It was a perfectly simple message of how I see God molding my purpose…to bring hope and healing THROUGH the cracked and broken places!

*Thank you God for the simple ways in which you speak!*

 

As for me and my house….

rolling pins will not be considered kitchen utensils!

quarter mile repeats x16

Commitment= running your scheduled 4 mile run on the quarter mile stretch of road in front of your house. That’s a lot of repeats, lets just say. You may call it insane; I call it commitment. It certainly wasn’t my ideal running route that’s for sure, but when your child care gets tricky, you do what you’ve got to do to get it done. And then you thank your training schedule for not assigning that day an 11 mile run!



While the neighbors wondered about my mental health as I ran back and forth, back and forth, back and forth; I got thinking about excuses versus obstacles. Over the years I have run through some crazy stuff….fevers/flu, rain and lightening storms, hurricanes, killer heat waves, pushing a baby (or two, or three) in joggers for 18 miles, etc. and while some of these things were probably not deemed “a good idea” by most everyone else, I got through them. barely. But the point is this: we can let something be an excuse or we can see it as an obstacle that only needs to be overcome. The choice is ours and the difference is a matter of our commitment, or lack there of. While I certainly don’t recommend running 10 miles with a 101 fever (I may or may not have done so this past week); there are times when we must change our plans and yet the difference is we “reschedule” not “cancel” the run.

I frequently have people ask me about how I manage all this. And the truth is, I probably don’t always manage it all very well. But I know one thing for sure…..I manage life better when I’m consistently running! I don’t always have to be training for a race, but I need to run. It is the place that God restores my confidence. It is the place where the mental fog lifts. And it is often the one and only thing I can count on to get me out of a funk! I know that for me the magic of running is found in my commitment to running.



As I finished the 4 miles yesterday and turned back to look at the road one more time, I felt better about some words that have stung….that maybe I have a “commitment-phobia”.

I smirked and thought….um no, I believe I’m good with my ability to commit to something, if that quarter mile block has anything to say about it.

If I have anything I have a “wrong one-phobia”. just sayin’.

*wink*