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!