Last week left me with an overwhelming unsettled feeling. The Boston Marathon bombings brought questions about humanity, the West exploding fertilizer plant added more questions about God and finally the horrible news of our best friends' adoption falling through really had me wondering why.
And I still am.
I know in my head that hardships create an opportunity to develop character; to get to know yourself, God and your loved ones in a way you never have before. But my heart feels like its going to explode.
I feel humbled. Beyond any feeling of humble I have felt before. I take every single good thing I have for granted. I cannot let one more day go by that I don't look at the man I married and count my lucky stars for his goodness and strength of character, I can't let days go by without squeezing my baby girl tight and appreciating everything that she is and does. I can't forget that I am one of few in the world with a roof over my head, more clothes I could ever need and plenty of food to eat. My family lives in peace on a daily basis and I don't have to worry for their well being.
We live in a world in which basically anything could happen, not just to bad people but to genuinely good people. This is a hard realization. My heart aches. I have prayed for West, Boston and my friends more than I ever thought I could pray.
Sunday, I run the Memorial Half Marathon. I will run for Boston. I will run for West. And I will run for my sweet friends. The world can be atrocious. But at least we have each other.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
The Accidental Twelve
Sounds like a movie, right? (One about a woman who obviously doesn't understand birth control) or perhaps and inspirational one about a rag tag team who overcomes obstacles in order to be the next winning champs.
I wish it were the name of the muffins I didn't just cook.
Let me tell you, The Accidental Twelve is none of these things. What it is; however, is the number of miles I ran on Sunday. Accidentally.
I only missed one important step during the run. I went right instead of left and didn't figure out that I was with the twenty mile running group for a little while. No, no. I will never be with that group on purpose. It was a complete and total accident during which I almost made a few people hate me by complaining so much.
It's difficult to keep going when your ear buds are telling you that your goal has been met, two miles ago.
Last words to my awesome training partner: "I'm not running a step past 10." Boy, was I completely wrong about that.
Cosmos: 12 Rachel: 0
Cheers to long runs, and even longer accidental ones.
'til next time!
I wish it were the name of the muffins I didn't just cook.
Let me tell you, The Accidental Twelve is none of these things. What it is; however, is the number of miles I ran on Sunday. Accidentally.
I only missed one important step during the run. I went right instead of left and didn't figure out that I was with the twenty mile running group for a little while. No, no. I will never be with that group on purpose. It was a complete and total accident during which I almost made a few people hate me by complaining so much.
It's difficult to keep going when your ear buds are telling you that your goal has been met, two miles ago.
Last words to my awesome training partner: "I'm not running a step past 10." Boy, was I completely wrong about that.
Cosmos: 12 Rachel: 0
Cheers to long runs, and even longer accidental ones.
'til next time!
Thursday, March 28, 2013
I miss you
I've seen you a few times since you left.
Once at Taco Bell. You came over and smiled at my sweet daughter. You looked just the same. I half expected you to hook your thumbs in your over-alls and smile to yourself before heading out the door with your quiet strength.
A few times I've dreamed of you. You grinned your approval when I told you I was pregnant. You responded, "Well." with a twinkle in your eye. You always could tell a story with one word or just a look. You were proud. Excited; telling me good job with just a word. "Well."
Last week. You drove by me in your old, blue farm truck that you had when I was a little girl. I looked over and waved my sadness away in that moment, because you were there saying "hi" with a one finger wave.
Every time I hear Amazing Grace.
We all miss you.
Once at Taco Bell. You came over and smiled at my sweet daughter. You looked just the same. I half expected you to hook your thumbs in your over-alls and smile to yourself before heading out the door with your quiet strength.
A few times I've dreamed of you. You grinned your approval when I told you I was pregnant. You responded, "Well." with a twinkle in your eye. You always could tell a story with one word or just a look. You were proud. Excited; telling me good job with just a word. "Well."
Last week. You drove by me in your old, blue farm truck that you had when I was a little girl. I looked over and waved my sadness away in that moment, because you were there saying "hi" with a one finger wave.
Every time I hear Amazing Grace.
We all miss you.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Life Lesson Learned
Life lesson: Don't take your breakable, un lid-able beverage holders with you in the car. I've learned this lesson before but not in the same way. It was more in the way of spilled beverages.
One of my favorite coffee mugs met it's demise early Sunday morning. I tried in vain to save the little guy but was unwilling to sacrifice my piping hot breakfast tacos in the endeavor. I know in my head that it was just a ceramic tool used to house coffee but in my heart it stood as a symbol of my life in Texas; my carefree years of young.
All good things come to an end (Life lesson?). Even something as simple as a fantastic taco (oh, and, they were!).
Goodbye, Beckman-Coulter Mug. You were loved.
Cheers.
One of my favorite coffee mugs met it's demise early Sunday morning. I tried in vain to save the little guy but was unwilling to sacrifice my piping hot breakfast tacos in the endeavor. I know in my head that it was just a ceramic tool used to house coffee but in my heart it stood as a symbol of my life in Texas; my carefree years of young.
All good things come to an end (Life lesson?). Even something as simple as a fantastic taco (oh, and, they were!).
Goodbye, Beckman-Coulter Mug. You were loved.
Cheers.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Where the Wind Comes Sweeping Down The Plains
Hmmm...6 month hiatus? Yes. But here I am!
In Oklahoma.
That's right. My family made the journey home for good. Living by my family has been heavenly. My husband and I have had more alone time in the past four months than the whole time baby girl has been alive.
Did I mention I'm a stay at home mom now? You would think that I have an abundance of time to "work blog" but by the time nap time rolls around I'm trying to frantically fold clothes (by that I mean I am glued to HGTV or other quality daytime television like I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant) or vacuum while I have a few moments to myself. I tell people you can judge the length of the nap by the cleanliness of the kitchen sink (or the amount of items checked off my To Do list i.e. the recorded DVR list).
My sweet baby turned one. How much she has changed amazes me. She delights me. It has been an action packed year and I cannot wait for another one.
Prepare to hear about packing and moving yet again. I haven't even had a chance to document the move from College Station to El Reno yet and am preparing to move from temporary housing to permanent as we blog!
I am still slowly losing my mind. In the car this morning I attempted to turn up my radio volume for my and baby girl's listening delights. As I was repeatedly hitting the + button, nothing was happening to the volume. But I did, however, notice that my car increased speed. It turns out that cruise control buttons do nothing for the radio.
I will try to hang on to what sanity is left until next time, when I bring you Adventures of a Mother Runner and Other Curious Events.
Cheers!
In Oklahoma.
That's right. My family made the journey home for good. Living by my family has been heavenly. My husband and I have had more alone time in the past four months than the whole time baby girl has been alive.
Did I mention I'm a stay at home mom now? You would think that I have an abundance of time to "work blog" but by the time nap time rolls around I'm trying to frantically fold clothes (by that I mean I am glued to HGTV or other quality daytime television like I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant) or vacuum while I have a few moments to myself. I tell people you can judge the length of the nap by the cleanliness of the kitchen sink (or the amount of items checked off my To Do list i.e. the recorded DVR list).
My sweet baby turned one. How much she has changed amazes me. She delights me. It has been an action packed year and I cannot wait for another one.
Prepare to hear about packing and moving yet again. I haven't even had a chance to document the move from College Station to El Reno yet and am preparing to move from temporary housing to permanent as we blog!
I am still slowly losing my mind. In the car this morning I attempted to turn up my radio volume for my and baby girl's listening delights. As I was repeatedly hitting the + button, nothing was happening to the volume. But I did, however, notice that my car increased speed. It turns out that cruise control buttons do nothing for the radio.
I will try to hang on to what sanity is left until next time, when I bring you Adventures of a Mother Runner and Other Curious Events.
Cheers!
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Not Your Mother's Guide to Pregnancy and Motherhood
(I will admit, I did, in fact, rip the title of this post off of my sister-in-law's blog. And I give her full credit.)
My mom and sister recently pitched an idea that I should write a book about pregnancy and the first year in the life of one's baby. It would be good. HOWEVER, I have a problem with lengthy writing and I don't know how well a 15 to 30 page "book" would sell. The full title of the book would be:
Not Your Mother's Guide to Pregnancy and Motherhood: What the Doctor Never Told You But The Nurse May Have
I only go lengthy on title. It just exacerbates the problem if your title is only three words shorter than the actual work...I've thought of some chapter titles: Two for Tuesday (it would outline the perks of having a child), Marathon Birth (it would compare birth to running a marathon...much much harder as a marathon does not leave you with a 6 week recovery, the need for stitches and a stomach that equates itself to a bowl full of jelly. If it did when you ran one we need to talk about your training program.)
That's basically all I have. Titles and no stuffing. Plus, the main thing I would wrestle with is how to come across light and funny while emphasizing the weight of having a baby (no pun intended). By weight, I mean I also want to convey how wonderful and challenging it is to be a parent, beginning while your child is in utero (hopefully not the Nirvana album). I would want people to laugh, be informed and also moved. I think I need to pick one. It just figures that I can't do anything without having a major identity crisis.
Oh, one other title was It Figures (about pregnant body changes. I think I got the title from an early 90's work out by Charlene Prickett. We also have copyright issues abounding.) And the ever non-creative chapter called Mom Brain which chronicles becoming more and more like your own mother every day as one forgets random things but remembers them 4 hours later when putting dirty clothes in the dishwasher or trying to program the DVR with remote to the DVD player.
Publishers? Anybody? I'll sell you my ideas!
Cheers!
PS - it's creeping up on the time that I only do posts about Fall! Get excited!
My mom and sister recently pitched an idea that I should write a book about pregnancy and the first year in the life of one's baby. It would be good. HOWEVER, I have a problem with lengthy writing and I don't know how well a 15 to 30 page "book" would sell. The full title of the book would be:
Not Your Mother's Guide to Pregnancy and Motherhood: What the Doctor Never Told You But The Nurse May Have
I only go lengthy on title. It just exacerbates the problem if your title is only three words shorter than the actual work...I've thought of some chapter titles: Two for Tuesday (it would outline the perks of having a child), Marathon Birth (it would compare birth to running a marathon...much much harder as a marathon does not leave you with a 6 week recovery, the need for stitches and a stomach that equates itself to a bowl full of jelly. If it did when you ran one we need to talk about your training program.)
That's basically all I have. Titles and no stuffing. Plus, the main thing I would wrestle with is how to come across light and funny while emphasizing the weight of having a baby (no pun intended). By weight, I mean I also want to convey how wonderful and challenging it is to be a parent, beginning while your child is in utero (hopefully not the Nirvana album). I would want people to laugh, be informed and also moved. I think I need to pick one. It just figures that I can't do anything without having a major identity crisis.
Oh, one other title was It Figures (about pregnant body changes. I think I got the title from an early 90's work out by Charlene Prickett. We also have copyright issues abounding.) And the ever non-creative chapter called Mom Brain which chronicles becoming more and more like your own mother every day as one forgets random things but remembers them 4 hours later when putting dirty clothes in the dishwasher or trying to program the DVR with remote to the DVD player.
Publishers? Anybody? I'll sell you my ideas!
Cheers!
PS - it's creeping up on the time that I only do posts about Fall! Get excited!
Monday, September 3, 2012
I am Humanity and They are Me.
(English major, I am not. But possibly Yoda's understudy.)
Everyone makes the realization at some point in his or her adult life that people can no longer be divided into neat and nice categories. When I attended college, those in the parental category resided in a completely different box than I. When in high school, I lived miles away from my parents' neighborhood, figuratively speaking of course. I thought everyone would always stay clearly defined, mostly by the contents of the box in which they were placed.
Not exactly the case anymore.
It starts with the realization that there's really not a magic door leading to "your life." It has always been going on. It goes back to your first kiss, the numerous trips to the library, climbing trees, playing tricks on your sister...I didn't know there would never be a moment I'd look back on and say, "that is the moment I crossed over into adulthood."
Honestly.
I thought it would happen.
That my fairy godmother would appear in a dream, looking like Meryl Streep in some ridiculous vapor form, and hit me with a magic wand that imparts wisdom and a great womanly figure. I would wake up and be moved into the parent/adult category.
No. Instead, I while cooking supper one day, I thought about my grandmother doing the same thing over and over, many days of her life, and made the realization that my grandparents are people. My mom has a story outside of me and my sister. People I have looked to in my life for wisdom and direction lived with passions and real feelings.
These "adults".....they are in the same category as me.
And everyone else. Even my baby girl.
Then, later that week, I also realized that I'm not just connected to my family in this way, but I'm connected to humanity in this way also and every way possible. (by "later that week" I mean I have no idea when I was thinking about this.) I'm not the only one that has felt the exhilaration of completing a run, who has felt the pleasure and gratification of a job well done. I'm not the first person to understand the gravity of a life long commitment and relish the fact that my spouse and I love and respect one another after going through life together for a decade. I'm not the first mother and certainly not the first person to love and be loved; to hurt and inflict pain. To be.
And compared to older and wiser souls, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. But I hope that some day I'll be considered wise and will have the pleasure of watching my own children figure this out for themselves. Maybe my husband and I will even be able to discuss it over a nice cup of coffee on the back porch while our grandchildren frolic in the yard. And my children will hold me in high regard because I will be well traveled, wildly funny and an extremely good cook; not to mention as wise as Grandmother Willow. Pretty much everything covered in Proverbs 31.
Cheers, to you, humanity. Until next time!
Everyone makes the realization at some point in his or her adult life that people can no longer be divided into neat and nice categories. When I attended college, those in the parental category resided in a completely different box than I. When in high school, I lived miles away from my parents' neighborhood, figuratively speaking of course. I thought everyone would always stay clearly defined, mostly by the contents of the box in which they were placed.
Not exactly the case anymore.
It starts with the realization that there's really not a magic door leading to "your life." It has always been going on. It goes back to your first kiss, the numerous trips to the library, climbing trees, playing tricks on your sister...I didn't know there would never be a moment I'd look back on and say, "that is the moment I crossed over into adulthood."
Honestly.
I thought it would happen.
That my fairy godmother would appear in a dream, looking like Meryl Streep in some ridiculous vapor form, and hit me with a magic wand that imparts wisdom and a great womanly figure. I would wake up and be moved into the parent/adult category.
No. Instead, I while cooking supper one day, I thought about my grandmother doing the same thing over and over, many days of her life, and made the realization that my grandparents are people. My mom has a story outside of me and my sister. People I have looked to in my life for wisdom and direction lived with passions and real feelings.
These "adults".....they are in the same category as me.
And everyone else. Even my baby girl.
Then, later that week, I also realized that I'm not just connected to my family in this way, but I'm connected to humanity in this way also and every way possible. (by "later that week" I mean I have no idea when I was thinking about this.) I'm not the only one that has felt the exhilaration of completing a run, who has felt the pleasure and gratification of a job well done. I'm not the first person to understand the gravity of a life long commitment and relish the fact that my spouse and I love and respect one another after going through life together for a decade. I'm not the first mother and certainly not the first person to love and be loved; to hurt and inflict pain. To be.
And compared to older and wiser souls, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. But I hope that some day I'll be considered wise and will have the pleasure of watching my own children figure this out for themselves. Maybe my husband and I will even be able to discuss it over a nice cup of coffee on the back porch while our grandchildren frolic in the yard. And my children will hold me in high regard because I will be well traveled, wildly funny and an extremely good cook; not to mention as wise as Grandmother Willow. Pretty much everything covered in Proverbs 31.
Cheers, to you, humanity. Until next time!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)