Huge step.

 

Do you see it there, stamped in the sloppy muddy mess?

That’s right baby, footprints; her paws, my trail shoes.

I don’t know who was more excited but I was pretty stinkin’ pumped!

It’s been many weeks of short, slow walks and we’ve both been frustrated.

However today I tied up my trail shoes and went on a 5 minute (yes minute, not mile…grrr) run down my dirt road.

Piper was interested in speed work; I was simply focused on slow and stable foot placement.

Truthfully I’m dying to resume my regular 10+ mile runs….but for now this felt amazing!

Stress fractures, get thee behind me…..

 

Backpack treasures.

(written after the Sandy Hook Elementary School shootings in Newtown, Conn…just days before Christmas)

It’s the simple gifts from children that change us.

A tender expression. Love so pure. Uncomplicated and free.

Little pieces of themselves to take with us. A gift. An offering.

 

I love the hidden treasures found in my children’s backpacks.

Especially this one I discovered over the weekend in a rare quiet moment alone.

As the news from the TV played in the background,

I sat on the piano bench holding Andre’s backpack in one hand, this ornament in the other.

I traced my finger around the edges where his scissors had {im}perfectly carved out a heart.

I noticed each little detail of his work and wondered about that moment…

how his hand held the pencil as he wrote each letter, I love my family so much;

how he walked over to his teachers desk and stapled a loop so it could hang on our tree.

I imagined how he tucked it away in his backpack, anxious to bring it home.

A perfect backpack treasure.

 

Oh Father, please let there be treasures

just waiting to be discovered~

in those 20 little backpacks

still hanging on the classroom walls.

Tender expressions. Love so pure.

Simple handmade hearts that might bring a blanket of warmth in the midst of the cold dark nights.

In your timing, God speed…may those parents find one more gift.

Please Father, let it be…

 

As I prayed, the Mother-tears began their battle.

Tears that ache for my own four babies and tears that ache for theirs;  

the babies who sat in little chairs in a classroom on Friday morning.

 

I hung Andre’s paper ornament on our tree and knew this was getting too thick for me, I needed out.

So I walked out the door and headed up our mountain to my hiding place… my thin place.

 

The heavier the burden and mental noise, the longer the journey up the mountain.

So I had to keep pressing deep into the woods; searching for quiet and still,

and simple.

“Thin” didn’t come easy this time.

 

As I climbed the rocky trails and the reality began to sink in, my ugly {cry} won.

…a classroom full of Spiderman lunchboxes and Hello Kitty jackets

…name tags on wrapped Christmas gifts waiting under their trees

…the giggles of innocent children counting down the days

…the mounds of fresh dirt

Oh God, not this month. Not this close. Not ever!

 

I know this world is a cruel reality for so many children and it always breaks my heart;

I’m also no stranger to death, I’ve worked in its trenches for many years.

But this kind of violence? How do we prepare our innocent children for that? 

~And so there I sat, perfectly still, just waiting~

 

I love my family so much; it played through my mind, over and over again.

His words, his creativity, his heart.

Made by my child’s own two hands.

Pure and simple. Tender. Uncomplicated.

At eight years old, it’s everything Andre has to offer.

And at thirty-seven, it’s everything I need.

 

….oh God, be near and give them strength in Newtown.

Thank you for the precious gift of children,

and thank you for their backpack treasures!

 

 

 

 

Who rescued who?

This might be one of my most favorite pictures of Piper ever! I recognize that for most of you it’s simply a picture of a sweet dog and some crazy cute pink shoes. #whateverygirlneeds. But when I walked into the kitchen that day (a few weeks ago), exhausted from a really hard run, this moment was more than a sweet photo op. There was a precious story there begging to be told.

I had run a few miles already that week. As in 40. I was tired and my legs were d.o.n.e. However, I had planned an easy 6.2 mi run with Piper (her longest ever), knowing she needed the exercise in order to stay out of trouble on the home front. And though this particular route did include a really steep hill, I felt that if taken slowly, we would do fine. This is why I got her after all… a long term running partner.So I gathered our stuff, harnessed ourselves to each other and hit the roads.

As it turns out, my legs were more d.o.n.e. than I thought.

From the very first mile Piper kept turning around, giving me this funny look as if to say, What’s up chick?

But I think she knew. I wasn’t alright.

I wasn’t running at a speed she was familiar with, I kept pulling her back, and my gait was off. We’ve run enough miles together, her and I, that we know what to expect and when something feels different. That day felt different for sure.

As we approached the never ending hill that felt similar to this:

…I began to worry; I’m not gunna make it up today, my legs have nothing left.

As we started up Piper looked back one more time, pausing for just a second; I like to think she was checking in on me,

We cool back there Momma? 

Because I KNOW she understands me, I told her the deal, “Girl, I need your help. Come on Piper, GO!”

As she turned around, now with her head pointing straight into the hill and her back to me, something changed. Her legs engaged, her torso strengthened, and her head lowered slightly. I have never seen Piper run like she did that day. It was incredible how she used her body and sheer determination to pull me up that hill, and led me for the remaining 4 miles home!

~And you know…she never again looked back at me. She didn’t need to I guess, we were running as one body with 6 legs.~

But I could tell by the way she climbed up the back deck and staggered into the house, she was spent!

Did I push her too hard? Was that too much for her just yet?

I got her some water and snuggled her for a moment. Good girl Piper, thank you! She licked the side of my face like it was no big deal and slowly laid down on the wood floor next to her water bowl. I was worried.

I quickly got a shower and hurried back in to check on her; that’s when I found her snuggling with my running shoes.

~That day something changed between Piper and I.~

I believe this once homeless and abandoned dog realized for the first time that she was actually needed! And though it was a sacrifice; when you’ve been rescued, you will rescue.

~We give what we’ve been given.~

As I stood there looking at her sweet face all snuggled up between my shoes, barely able to stay awake for the picture, I felt sure she whispered~

“Rescued” feels good, doesn’t it??

 

 

*Piper did sleep for many hours that day and eventually was back to her normal self~ “Pipering” as my Dad calls it!!*

11-22-12~blessings

Thanksgiving morning.

At 6:00 a.m. exactly, Piper does her usual paws on my back wake up call and I try negotiating with her, “Piper go lay down, not now…30 more minutes”. She doesn’t budge. I mean look at that face? Does she look remotely interested in a compromise?

She will stare me down until I call mercy; she wins, I lose.

So, with a cheerful spirit, I roll out of bed in search of my jacket, boots, and dog leash. Piper’s love language is chasing cows. And the cows? not so much. Therefore, I have to walk her on a leash in order to keep the peace here on the farm. And of course, it’s my most favorite thing to do. EVER. At 6 a.m.

This morning as I walked her and Brody, I got thinking about the blessings I’ve found in the plan B moments of my life:

~It wasn’t my idea to be out walking a dirt road at the crack of dawn, but I experienced the simple stillness of the morning. It was beautiful.

~It wasn’t my desire to have yet one more lower leg issue (the 50 mile week however WAS my idea!), but I’ve rediscovered how much I love gliding through the water. It’s been wonderful.

~It wasn’t my wish to be single with four children at this stage of my life, but the process proved that I was stronger than I thought. It wasn’t wasted.

If your willing to look for it, there is something of value to be found when you’re in an unexpected place. So this was where my heart was this Thanksgiving; giving thanks for the blessings found in the process of an unexpected journey.

~I have wonderful friends because something didn’t go as I had thought.

~I have a home I love, on a farm I adore, because something didn’t go as I had planned.

~I have discovered parts of who I am and my passions because something didn’t go as I had expected.

So as I sit here hiding in the woods, finishing this post {via iPhone} now four days after I started it on Thanksgiving day; I look around and the irony of where I sit strikes me…

…this specific place, tucked away in what has become my all-time favorite place on this trail, I accidentally found one day when I was scared because I was lost, an unexpected journey if you will. I now come here often because it has become a sanctuary for me. And so I grin from ear to ear, with a thankful heart, and lay back on the rocks to let the thoughts linger a while~

Yes, there are definitely blessings in the process of an unexpected journey.

 

It is here…

 

It is here…where her sole frees her soul.

Where she ties together the desires of her heart; double knotting to be sure they won’t come undone.

Where each step takes her farther from where she’s been; closer to where she dreams of being.

 

It is here…where her story shares a message of imperfect progress.

Where she knows the ugly and the beautiful; the miles bring her to both, often in that order.

Where her journey gets a bit dirty; a risky transformation that works from the outside-in.

And yet it is here…where she sees one small footprint against the great big whole; and she worries, will it be enough?

Where a passion has found her and it won’t leave her alone; and she wonders, do I have what it takes?

Where she’s vowed to keep working it out; and so she prays, do not let this go from me, if it is from You!

 

 

 

 

 

boating for bosses

This afternoon:

Madelyn: “Mom, Ms. H says we are supposed to go boating today, it is important~ something about a precedent.”

Andre: “No Mom, I don’t think she has that right”

Madelyn: “oh yes I do Andre, you don’t know”

Ramiro: “Maddie, adults are supposed to vote because of gas”

Madelyn: “Gas? No, Ms. H did not say gas”

 

Andre: “Mom, what does a president do again?”

Ramiro: “He decides about money, mostly I think he bosses people around a lot”

[an odd moment of silence]

Madelyn: very matter of fact, “Mom I hope everyone votes for you and you win”

 

*excellent. At least I have someone who believes in me. I’m just not sure how I should feel about how this went down however.*

 

Stones and a slingshot.

 

What do you do when it’s all so big? When your just one and they are many.

When everywhere you look, there’s just more of the same; BIG.

 The boys and I talk about BIG a lot.

 

I mean, see that #50 right there? He plays center…

 

…that’s also him there in front of the referee, checking his armband like a good boy!

Yep, he’s one of mine~ a full head or two smaller than the rest of the O-line. But man do I adore that kid!

(and the other little kid behind him, in gray long sleeves, he’s mine too of course!)

 And remember this? It still makes me hurt for Dakota!

It goes without saying that David and Goliath isn’t just a Bible story at my house. It’s a consistent reality. My boys know something about facing a giant. As in every time they show up on the football field.

As their Mother I can’t change genetics, but I can help change perspective’s. I can’t build bigger, taller, wider; but I can help build mental toughness. And so that’s what we do~ we accept what we can’t change and work on what we can. After all, it’s not the athletes with the most physical talent who make it~ it’s the ones with the greatest passion, and possibly a slingshot!

As I’ve watched my little boys take on Goliath’s week after week, year after year~

we’ve discovered a few things about managing BIG:

You keep showing up.

You don’t ever quit.

You don’t let BIG know your scared.

You line up, get your hand on the ball and take out the feet in front of you. Again and again.

You remember that BIG is often slow.

You figure out what you do really well~ and you keep doing it really well.

Hurt stay all over BIG… BIG will wear out eventually!!

 

But what do you do when BIG is a failing marriage, mental illness, brokenness, bankruptcy, loss, suicide, empty?

What then? Can a slingshot take that on too?

I have recently watched several friends take devastating blows from BIG. And I mean unbelievably BIG. Sometimes it’s hard to know what to say; however, most of the time the best thing to do is to not say. Offer friendship instead. Shared tears. A nonjudgmental spirit. Compassion. A tender heart. Belief. Prayer. Stones and a slingshot, if you will.

 

Over the years, as I’ve driven to football games with lots of nervous testosterone in the back seat, I’ve wanted to give my boys something to take with them as they stepped onto the field. Something that will build their confidence and settle their nerves.

I’ve reminded them to stay focused on doing what they’ve been trained to do and no matter what “keep your head on”, as we say around here. Sometimes I’ve had to pour heavy doses of belief over their fears; other times I’ve prayed out loud over them.

But as my boys have lined up at the scrimmage line, facing their fears and the BIG that often comes with equal amounts of smack talk~ I think about how David took on BIG; with a handful of stones, a slingshot, and his God.

I know it’s what my boys need too.

And it’s what that failing marriage, that devastated family, and that empty life also needs!

 

This weekend my boys will play in their 2nd playoff game…against the only team they lost to this year. The kids weren’t overly big but they did beat our boys~ so it feels BIG. You can bet on Saturday morning, though I won’t be sending the biggest boys out onto the field, I will be sending boys with a great deal of passion. And possibly a slingshot!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I fell deeper in love.

 

It was music to my ears; the request was hardly an imposition and yet totally unexpected.

“Momma, can you run long and then come get me and run short?” 

Of course, I did.

 

Being true to her colorful self (I don’t know where she gets this from *wink*),

she was dressed and anxiously awaiting my return.

She ran just over .5 miles…grinning from ear to ear, hair blowing in the wind, and wanting to hold hands.

Of course, we did.

 

And I have yet to recover!

Oh, be still my beating heart.

thirty.seven.

The day came and the reality hit; it stung a bit but I got over it and decided to just embrace the day. the number.

As October 6th approached this year I found myself thinking about the woman that I often find running along side of me. Sometimes she’s slightly ahead, other times just behind; but she’s usually there somewhere. She’s sometimes the shadow, other times the reflection. But I know her well. finally. thankfully.

Lately I’ve paid special attention to her stride, how her ponytail swishes in the wind, how she maneuvers her way trough the tricky places. I’m reminded how these things have changed over the years. I’ve tried to live intentionally over the past several years and though I still have a knack for the “crash and burn” syndrome~ I recognize that there is growth and it softens the sting of thirty.seven. However, I’ve discovered something else that I want reflected from my life…

 

This past week, having just finished one [of many] standing sprint repetitions on the bike, my legs still burning and my lungs begging for anything that resembled an O2 mask…my spin instructor says “this is your active recovery”.

What? Active recovery? I have one of those?

Work with me here, but for me this was about balance.

I tend to be an all or nothing kind of person. I’ve typically been ‘all in’ or ‘all out’ and I’ve struggled to find a balance of an in-between. But as the class continued [my lungs now pleading for mercy], I kept hearing these words play back in my mind.

This is your active recovery.

In that moment I recognized it’s value physically, and it spoke to me personally.

During my last trip to Virginia for grad school, I made an active recovery decision.  It was a decision to find a better balance in my life between school, family/kids, social, running, etc. A place between an all-out sprint and all-out dead, literally. A middle ground where I’m still moving and yet still breathing!

After several months of an internal debate (a much more civilized experience than what our politicians seem to know about!), I decided to drop a class. The long and short is this: I won’t graduate in the spring. *gulp* But I will graduate toward the end of the year and I will do so with some level of sanity, a byproduct of a balanced life.

With that, as I continue to evaluate my reflection and what it represents about who I am~ I want it to say something about the wisdom of active recovery. So, here’s to another year…

of my life on the RUN!! I am incredibly grateful that God still forgives; He is amazingly patient with me and continues to bless my miles~

and moments!

Untangled.

I’ve run in the most normal of places and the most unusual of places.

Running is how I understand; a town, a mountain, my self.

It’s how I get the feel of things, or of me.

I’ve run on roads, treadmills, mountains, and in pools.

I’ve jogged, raced, and crawled.

 

I’ve run in airports, at welcome centers along the highway, around Swan Lake (Melrose, Fl), on Venice Beach, through the Petrified Forrest, and raced on the Indy 500 track.

I’ve run dirt trails, sandy beaches, concrete jungles of NYC and LA,

over oceans on a boat and while crossing rivers on a bridge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve run in a pack of several thousand runners, with my kids, my Dad, my Weimeraners, on a date, and completely alone.

I’ve run at sunrise, praying blessings over a new day~ and by moonlight, kissing another one goodbye.

 

 

I’ve run through full out belly laughs and while sobbing buckets of tears.

I’ve gone on a run when I needed to make some sense,

and when I had no sense

(a marathon with the flu?? duh)!

  

I’ve run in the scorching heat of the south, the frozen and snowy winters of the north,

and through hurricane rains/tropical storms on the beach.

 

I ran before kids, pregnant with kids, and while pushing kids (often times 2).

 I’ve run strong and surefooted, and I’ve busted and kissed the dirt.

I’ve run TO things, AROUND things, and AWAY from things.

I’ve run to heal and to be healed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve run to chase down, and unfortunately I’ve been chased down.

I’ve been lost, and I’ve been found.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But regardless of where I’ve run, how crazy or simple~

I love the runs that leave me stronger.

Over the years (and miles) I’ve come to realize that stronger is the byproduct of being emptied.

Of my self. My plans. My way. My death grip. My trying so hard.

My knots.

And so maybe this is why I run too.

 

To be emptied.

To be untangled.

To be stronger.

 

“It is God who arms me with strength” Psalms 18:32a

 

 

 

Especially then.

This morning, having already dropped Kota off at the high school, I couldn’t resist the way the sky begged for attention.

I didn’t want to forget the moment with the little kids as we drove to the elementary school:

Guys, look outside at the sky~ do you see those dark clouds?

Can you see how fierce and ugly they look?

They’re a bit scary looking don’t you think?

[no Andre, school will not be canceled due to dark clouds, promise. nice try buddy.]

Well, I want to tell you about a word called faith.

When you look at those clouds it’s normal to be scared because it’s so dark.

But can you see the way the sun is still shining around the edges?

A rare silence filled the car.

I looked in my rear view mirror to see if they were with me so far…Andre was sucking his thumb, per his norm; Madelyn was still gazing out the window, not fully awake yet; and Ramiro, who wakes up with all cylinders immediately in overdrive, pipes up wanting to clarify the correct spelling of the word faith.

[yes babe, f-a-i-t-h]. bless that child!

You see guys how those clouds can affect what we think of the light?

The clouds may get so thick and so dark that we can’t see the sun shining at all.

It’s even possible to begin believing that there is no sun. The truth is the sun has never changed, it’s always there.

What changes is what tries to block the light, but I can assure you guys that the sun is still there.

Always.

Faith is like that~ we can be sure of the sun even when we don’t see the sun.

Guys we don’t always see the light, but our faith is not based on our present circumstances and what we see right now.

Ramiro, Andre, Madelyn:

I just want you guys to be confident that when you have dark clouds in your life,

you can always trust that God is still there.

Always.

We may not see God and we may not understand what’s happening, but we can be confident that God is with us.

The clouds are temporary but God is always and forever, and His love for you never ever goes away.

I just don’t want y’all to ever doubt that Light!!

 

As we pulled into the drop-off line Madelyn leans forward towards the front seat and ever so sweetly says, “Mom, like when Baby Jaydan died?”

Yes, baby girl~ just like when Baby Jaydan died.

Even then. *gulp* Especially then.

He was there.

And with that, one by one they filed out of the car and headed into school; disappearing behind the big double doors like 3 little ducklings.

 

The sky this morning was for them. But the words spoken by Maddie were for me.

Thank you Father that they never forget!

A picture worth a thousand words.

Losing always hurts. Especially when your #12!

The tears of disappointment that flood when you gave everything you had~ and it wasn’t enough.

The sting of defeat that burns through a young athlete.

A necessary-evil, I suppose.

But the bitter gets sweeter when a friend comes along~

a tender heart, a compassionate soul,

one who knows the weight of this moment and without hesitation says “I’ll walk with you”.

There was something unbelievably moving as I watched this exchange (last year, 2011 season)~

and I assure you that it takes a boy of great character to give what was given to my son that day.

It was a beautiful expression of friendship that will be talked about in my home for years to come!

What a blessing I have found in the journey of growing up little boys into men!

Thin places.

You know that place?

Where the space between you and something else is so transparent, you can’t be sure where one ends and the other begins?

Last May, in the moments immediately after Dakota tore his patella tendon off his shin, I was painfully aware of being in a thin place. I can imagine he doesn’t exactly see it the same way, but I wasn’t sure who was in more pain; him or I.

The space between my children’s life and my own is almost non-existent. It is the thinnest place I know.

But for me there’s another kind of thin place:

…where the natural and the supernatural meet.

Where the space between Him and I feels unusually thin,

and an “upload/download” exchange occurs.

And it’s here, when I run…

that the thin places allow me to catch my breath~

and yet take my breath away.

 

 

 

Lesson learned: Circle the tree

One day last year I was trail running on our farm

during my favorite time of year

~the fall~

the air was crisp

and the woods were bald, having already shed

its “summer coat”.

At that time Brody was getting around easier then than he is now,

so I had taken him with me.

Brody and I have such a connection while in the woods~

we both come to life!

 

I was on a trail that I had run many times 

but this particular day

my eye caught a glimpse of this tree that I had never noticed before :

 

As I glanced at it, nothing really seemed overly unusual.

Fairly normal actually.

Standing tall and narrow; status quo as far as trees go.

I did briefly notice something around the sides but it wasn’t concerning,

rarely is a tree without blemishes after all.

So I continued up the trail to my normal turnaround point.

 

However, as I began my journey back down I was shocked to see this:

It was the same tree, just from another perspective~ the backside.

What appeared like a healthy, relatively normal tree

was hardly the picture of health I had once thought.

 

Actually, it was gross!

As I began to move around

I realized that each new angle made things look even worse.

Circling the tree

gave me a clearer picture~

and it told me something very significant about my first impression!

It was wrong. Terribly wrong.

And what I dismissed or rationalized was even worse.

 

I took it all in for a minute and then continued on my run;

when I had gotten several yards away

I glanced back over my shoulder one more time…

and almost giggled as I thought

“That’s amazing ~you don’t even notice it from here” . 

 

That moment would not be lost on me!

The experience of circling the tree that day was a Divine appointment

and one I think about often.

 

The position by which we are viewing something is extremely significant~

  different angles yield different insights.

If we only allow ourselves a narrow perspective we can be sure of this:

some truths will be seen~

others will be obscured!

Lesson learned.

Always. Circle. The. Tree.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Piper

Several months ago I had an unfortunate experience on a trail. I had a face to face encounter with a rattle snake that shook me up. A lot. Looking back I probably should have gone back out the very next day in order to keep it from getting all crazy in my head. But I didn’t. So for 2 months I didn’t step foot on a trail out of fear; I had been attacked by lions, tigers and bears after all!

Since I don’t have a schedule that is conducive to evening trail groups and long term running boyfriends are not in the forecast, I decided I would stick with what has always worked in the past~ a running dog. And probably I like them better than groups or boyfriends anyways! However this would mean I’d have 2 large dogs inside my house. Brody is 14 years old but still every bit of 100 lbs! I debated over the added responsibility (I’m lacking in those you know *grin*) and the headaches that sometimes come with animals. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dogs and have always had them~ but my dogs are part of “my people” and 7 in this house is no joke. Nevertheless, the decision was made.

 

Meet Piper…

 

She’s part lab, part something else. Obviously, duh. We just don’t know what that something else is because she’s a rescue. And the line “who rescued who” fits our story~that’s for another day!

Yet the once homeless Piper has now molded into our family so well, I hardly remember us without her.

I mean seriously? How can you not love those crystal green eyes? I can’t imagine why someone would have abandoned this girl.

 

Of course Piper has a job to do; remember those lions, tigers and bears waiting for me in the woods?

Well, she’s getting ready and I think she will be amazing:

 

(Every girl needs a sweet pair of trail shoes you know!!)

One thing about Piper, ok more like a million things about Piper…she loves when I have sore legs. I think she secretly prays for lactic acid build up because it means the blue roller thingy comes out. Don’t believe the calm dog in this first picture, she just wanted to make a liar out of me. Piper is all about some foam rolling! Her idea of rolling out sore legs ends up feeling like a cardio workout.

(Yes, I know my attractive compression socks are an amazing complement to my outfit. Awesome for dating I think, which could be part of my forecasting issue! ha)

 

And if your wondering about Brody, he tolerates Piper most days~ however he much prefers Piper to sleep in her own bed.

Any guesses as to who usually wins?….

 

…It pays to be persistent!

There’s a place

 

Maybe it was the way the sun was shining this particular day, many months ago,

trying to peek through the blanket wrapped sky.

Maybe it was how I remembered the horses that were once there,

in their winter jackets, grazing in the field.

Maybe it was the old wooden planked barn that

surely had stories to tell.

 

I had driven by the farm twice,

but something was there for me so I dug out my camera and made a u-ie.

As I ran my hand along the rusted iron gate,

unevenly latched

yet shut and abandoned;

I could hear it

and I knew why I had come back.

It was one of those moments I’ve come to love~

God shows up with a simple picture that speaks volumes to my heart.

A wide open field with a small rickety country gate that whispered,

this is protected space.

I knew what He meant.

 

I think writing will always be a part of who I am,

words for me are more then letters snuggled together on a page.

Words feel like the wide open sky offering both sun and shade;

a gift to the old wooden barn

who has a story worth remembering.

So while writing never left me personally,

I temporarily shut the gate here.

 

Fast forward ten months:

while running the other day I began pressing the Lord about blogging

Should I write again? and actually hit “publish”?

I’ve missed almost a year of journaling which was mainly for my kids,

and what about the gate?

 

As I finished my run, still listening to my iPod,

my soul felt the open space of our hay field like never before.

The breeze rushed through my hair, circled around me and

filled my questions.

And I knew.

 

There’s a place, a place I’ve found…

A protected space.

A sacred place.

 

Here is the song from that day, it is amazing!

Maybe it will help all this make sense…

(p.s.- and a special thank you to my little sneaky photographer Andre who saw me in the field and thought something was up! sure enough!)