Christmas Yums!

Yesterday, I conquered the Lowe family favorite cookie: the Chocolate Sugar Puff. As a kid, our house was always full of baking around Christmas time: chocolate chip, pecan-less tarts (dad is deathly allergic to nuts), a tea-ring (basically a cinnamon roll ring that was always my teacher present and is Christmas morning breakfast),

 and the chocolate sugar puff cookie. 

This past week, I decided to conquer the Boso family favorite cookie, the peanut butter no-bake (thanks for the tutorial, Karen!)

And the Lowe family fav: CSP. I posted this on Facebook and had a few requests for this favorite cookie recipe. So, here it is:

Dough ingredients:

1/2 c oil

4-1 oz unsweetened chocolate baking squares, melted

2 c sugar

4 eggs

2 tsp vanilla

2 1/2 c flour

2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 c confectioner's sugar

- Combine oil, melted chocolate, and sugar with a mixer

- Mix in eggs and vanilla

- Sift together flour, baking powder, and salt and add to sugar mixture

- Chill in refrigerator 2-4 hours or overnight

- shape balls around 3/4" diameter (my cookie scooper was perfect)

- Roll dough balls in confectioners sugar

- Bake at 350 for 10-12 minutes (on baking times, less is always best)

- As soon as you can (without burning yourself), push your thumb in the middle. 

Icing ingredients:

1 c sugar

1/4 c cocoa

1/4 c milk

4 Tbsp butter

1/2 tsp vanilla

-In a saucepan, bring the first three ingredients to a boil. 

-Boil for 1 1/2-2 minutes, stirring constantly. 

- remove from heat

- Stir in butter and vanilla until smooth

- using a spoon, put icing in thumb holes in cookies

Recipe makes 4 dozen

(Rolling in the sugar is the perfect job for your soux chef)

Buen provecho!

Looking for a JOYOUS new year

As a kid, my OCD self was always very annoyed by the fact that most big buildings chose to leave #13 out of the lineup of floor numbers. Understanding that many people believe that #13 is bad luck, I always thought I could determine the optimism of a corporation by reading the numbers in an elevator. 

As 2013 approached, I felt the same way about the fear in people that 2013 was destined to be a bad year because of the year number alone. I began the challenge presented by the Living Proof ministry website to memorize a scripture on every 1st and 15th of the month. My first scripture came from Isaiah 43:19: "I am creating something new. There it is! Do you see it? I have put roads in deserts and streams in thirsty lands." I believe when I memorized this scripture, I narrowly believed that "new" meant "good". The scripture was right that something new was being created, just not the new I anticipated. 

With only 16 days left in the year, I have posted my 24th (and final) verse for 2013: "who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion." -Psalm 103:4 

I never anticipated, 24 verses ago, that the year could be filled with pits from which I would need redeeming. With the loss of one of my best friend's daughters, the loss of one of my favorite fellow youth pastor's wives and her unborn daughter, a sudden surgery (and pain meds that made me psycho for 3 weeks), my best school friend retiring, and our miscarriage, 2013 has proven itself to be quite a pit. My "new" was definitely not "good". Through my most painful times, The Lord revealed:

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens" -Ecclesiastes 3:1

And when I felt alone: 

"The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore." -Psalm 121:8

When I was tired:

"Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from Him." -Psalm 62:5

When I felt like things on earth were futile compared to pain that friends were feeling:

"For by Him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by Him and for Him." -Colossians 1:16

And confirming that things on earth were small:

"Yes, everything is worthless when compared to the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For His sake, I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ." -Philippians 3:80

As I confirm that the Word was given to us "... so that My joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete." -John 15:11

And when I didn't know what to feel:

"Therefore as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves in compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as The Lord forgave you. And over all of these virtues, put on love which binds them together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in you, since as members of one body, you were called to peace. And be thankful..."

I have learned the benefit of memorizing the Word of The Lord so in my weakest moments, God's words echo through my mind.

"...Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another in all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God." -Colossians 3:12-16

Even though in my eyes, the "new" wasn't good, in God's plan, our "good" doesn't matter since "I know the plans I have for you, declares The Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future." -Jeremiah 29:11

In the midst of "putting roads in deserts and streams in thirsty lands", I have learned that for roads to be put down, ground has to be torn up and rocks have to be moved. And I have to remind myself to:

"Praise The Lord, my soul, and forget not all His benefits - who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases. Who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion." -Pslam 103:2-4

"Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that The Lord has promised to those who love Him." -James 1:12

As I posted my final verse for 2013 today, I was moved to tears that my year has gone from "creating something new" to "persevering under trial" and "redeeming from the pit." I am hoping that the construction of the roads in deserts and streams in thirsty lands is a calmer process. However, I am so grateful for The Lord brought these scriptures to me this year. I have been overwhelmed that these words play in my mind as vividly as a person speaking them to me. 

As we prepare for 2014 "But thanks be to God who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ. And through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of Him." -2 Corinthians 2:14

Lead us, Lord, into 2014 in a triumphal procession in You so we may spread Your love. 

Half-training, week 1 (or 2?)

So, we are in full-swing of half-marathon training. I was using a plan that I couldn't follow well, so "using" is a term I use lightly. I switched back to my tried-and-true Hal Higdon. When I ran Knoxville, I used Higdon's Novice 2 plan. This race, I have gone up a step to the Intermediate plan and am tweaking it a bit.

Yesterday, I ran the long run that's officially scheduled for week 2, but I'm OCD and being off schedule just doesn't work for me. So, my week 1 was week 2. I know. I'm unnecessarily complicated. The last half, I did the majority of my training on the treadmill which did NOT prepare me for such a hilly race. I made a resolve to run hills as much as possible for my next one. Now, this race is flat and could easily be trained on a treadmill. Oh well, such is life. 

Lee and I decided to do long runs yesterday because of the snow/ice storm that is upon us today. I ran 6, Lee ran 9. I'm getting much better at pacing myself for long, slow distances and really enjoyed my run.

(If you see me running and my hands are raised, chances are, I'm not in need; just "raising my praiser")

I have gotten SEVERAL messages asking about what my clothing attire is that enables me to love winter running so much. (I think it's weird that some of my major training times have been in the winter.)

Some of these are year-round staples and some are winter (some are also pricey. Think Christmas gifts and knowing that these last for years and years):

1) Garmin GPS watch. Lee has a fancy, expensive one that he hates. I have a simple, much cheaper one, that I love. It clocks distance, time, average pace, enables you to set timers for speed work. It's small and fits well on my very small wrists. (You can do similar things with the Run Keeper app. I just enjoy freedom from my phone. "13.1 miles of peace and quiet")

2) Running shoes made for YOU. I am a supinator that runs on the outside of my feet. The only shoes that work for me are the Mizuno Wave Riders. I opt for the older models to get cheaper prices. 

2b) I also have a pair of goretex shoes that I save for rainy and snowy days (Look for "GTX" after the model name). Mizuno doesn't make them, so I got a pair of Brooks in a neutral footing. I have had this pair for 3 years bc I only use them when necessary.

3) Marmot Variant jacket. I read about this in Fitness magazine and got one on clearance. It is a MUST HAVE. Down in the front and a thick water repellent material on the arms and back. Thumb holes keep gloves in rock and an inside pocket keeps iPods dry. 

4) Smart Wool running socks. Love them and only need them when the temps are below 35

5) Running tights. I have 2 pair, 1 pair is brand new and only ran in them yesterday. I have run in a pair of Nike's for a few years that are wonderful, buti f the temps dip in the lower 30's or less, I require an extra layer. Lee has been running in the CW-X insulator tights for a few years and I broke down and bought a pair for the Turkey Trot race (that got cancelled.). I ran in them yesterday in the snow and the temps in the upper 20s and was super warm dry (they're water repellent, too).

Other staples are dry-fit shirts under the Marmot, wicking socks for when it's not super cold (I think I got mine at Target or TJ Maxx). I'm currently running in a pair of fleece gloves from Walmart for $2.99. I always keep a tube of chapstick in my pocket and slather my face in a super thick moisturizer before running to keep my face from hurting. (I'm using this Mary Kay product) Also, I had a horrible time last year with keeping my ears warm until my friend, Cindy, told me about the Bondi Bands. ("Will run for chocolate!")

In the past, I felt horribly guilty for leaving Nina at home (with supervision, of course.) while I went running. Then a friend of mine posted this last week on Facebook and completely changed my outlook on my training. 

I am aware that the list, when added all together, is pricey (And running is supposed to be a cheap sport!). These are things to gradually acquire and to hint and save for. Not all things are must haves for everyone. Hoping a few of my favorite running things may help you! Happy training!

To Dream a Dream

Meet the Walker women. We are basically 5 peas in a pod. A pod that stretches across 3,000 miles, but a pod, nonetheless. (Auntie lives in Seattle) I'm not talking about the fact that 3/5 of us walk with our feet turned out (That's the Stewart in us; Nannie's feet are straight and Lee's genes of turning in were more dominant in Nina), that we often get choked (embarrassingly) on our own saliva, are annoyingly strongly independent, or that we can keep secrets well (as long as not from each other).

(True story: Lee has been known to time us to see how long it takes for news to travel through the whole Walker Women Phone Tree. I never heard the exact results, but it wasn't long.)

Today, I am talking about our weird dreams. WEIRD, Y'ALL. Nannie taught 2nd grade and, after Grandad passed away, she also ran the family exterminating business. She once dreamed that there were little green men jumping out of cinder blocks. She also dreamed that there were alligators in the creek that ran behind her school that swallowed one of her students. She singlehandedly opened the mouth of the gator and removed the boy. This is just the iceberg of our crazy dreams.

When Lee and I first got married, I would wake up to his hazel eyes staring at me. Not in the "I could lie awake, just to hear you breathing... and I don't want to miss a thing" type of stare but as to say "hurry up and tell me every detail before you forget" stare. Often times, I think he has wished my dreams weren't so vivid. For example, one night I dreamed he cheated on me with an Asian lady named "Tamiflu". (Totally during the Swine Flu epidemic.) He might not like them, but he is always fascinated.

Last night, I dreamed that we walked in our house to find that someone had stolen the middle section of our Christmas tree. (Please no angry messages about real trees vs. artificial. I'M ALLERGIC TO ALL FORMS OF NATURE. THEY CAN'T COME IN MY HOUSE, lest I perish. Not really. Hopefully.)

(Even though I did have my eye swell shut during an allergy shot when my tolerance for dust mites reached the top)

(That was after 2 benadryl. I went to the grocery store after. Ain't nobody gonna break my style...)

Anyway. Middle section of the tree was gone. I see the gentlemen collecting our recycling and ask if they know anything about it. They said it was a man that hated me. He had come to our wedding and hated it, therefore, hated me. (Had to have been one of those weird TLC shows) I called a friend of mine who is a police officer and he said "You could involve the cops. But, let's be honest: steal his tree back!" I decided to wait in my house by the window that they had obviously climbed through, locked it, and waited for them to return. And like every good dream: of course they did! I grabbed them by the hands and pulled them in the living room where they got a good solid tongue lashing. I informed them how ridiculous it was to steal the middle section of the tree and how the law enforcement agents had advised me to RIP OUT THE MIDDLE OF THEIR TREE. He said "Now, just because I got a little naughty doesn't mean you have to act so hastily." And I said "Sir. You may be naughty, but I will continue to be nice." and I woke up. 

Intense, y'all. Who steals the middle of a tree?! Still not over it. I totally should have at least stolen the bow off his wreath. 

I got this email from my loving husband today: 

(Shows how well he listens; THEY CAME IN THROUGH THE WINDOW!)

Several years ago, I had a reoccurring dream that I talked about with our pastor who has a degree in counseling. He (correctly) identified some underlying fears in my life. After those dreams stopped, I had a dream that I had a purple pet shark that I walked on a leash. He told me I must have eaten too closely to bed time. I think it's a Walker woman trait that we are blessed to have. There are few places more entertaining than our brains. 

'Tis the season

One thing most people don't realize about me, is that I am an introvert. Most people assume that because I am loud and rarely take a breath in my conversations, that I an an extrovert. But, I'm not. I am a social hermit. I like people, but would rather be at my house with the curtains pulled in my family bubble. 

Because of this, the thought of shopping on Black Friday is enough to send this hermit into a closet with an inhaler. Crowds. Angry crowds. Shoving, loud, touching-me, I-want-that-but-refuse-to-stand-in-line-for-2-hours. Crowds. 

(When Lee and I were engaged, we attempted Black Friday shopping. I made it 10 minutes before exiting Staples, proclaiming that I would never shop again. Oh, how he wishes I was being honest.)

So, fast forward to now, the first Christmas that Nina really seems to get the concept of Christmas. Until recently, all she had asked for was a bicycle helmet for her Baby Alma, the American Girl Biddy Baby. Funny thing: THEY DON'T MAKE THEM! They have helmets for the American Girl, which is 1 1/4" smaller of a head circumference than the Biddy Baby. We looked on amazon, toysrus... They don't make them. We have resigned ourselves to getting a foam ball and hollowing it out and covering it in duct tape. Oh, how my non-crafty soul cries. 

But, come on! Even though we try to keep Christmas somewhat under control, I feel the need to spend more than $2.50 on my child for Christmas. (And a homemade present. Homemade by me. The girl deserves much more than her Christmas morning joy revolving around the craft of a girl who got a B in junior high art.)

Nina finally decided that she wants the Doc McStuffins check up center. I find it on toysrus.com and decided that I would pick it up while in Clarksburg for Senior High Convention. Great idea! HOWEVER, APPARENTLY AMERICA SOLD OUT OF THE ONE PRESENT MY CHILD HAS ASKED FOR BETWEEN THURSDAY AND SATURDAY. Walmart.com said that there was "Limited stock" at the Fairmont store. So, I skipped out on Saturday night of SHC, and headed to Fairmont. Apparently "Limited Stock" means "Never had them". After calling every Walmart in an hour radius of Knoxville (and a brother with keys ready at 10:45 on a Saturday night), I decided that I was going to end up being a crazy mom fighting in Walmart over the last Doc McStuffins checkup center. (NO! YOU CANT HAVE THAT!! HOW ELSE WILL MY DAUGHTER FIX MY CRAZY-PERSONITIS IF I DONT HAVE THIS?!) 

(I can feel your judgment from across the screen.)

Yesterday, on a whim, I happened to check walmart online for stock in Beckley. "Limited stock" which, as we know, means nothing more than another disappointed elf. I mustered up my "Please help me" voice and called my mom. She answered her phone. AND WAS AT WALMART! And just saw a woman with a check up center in her buggy. She was like a bloodhound on a trail, and FOUND THE CHECK UP CENTER!!! I'm sure there was great rejoicing in all of the heavenlies! (No nasty comments. I know I'm being dramatic.) 

So, here is to an incredible mom and a relieved elf. 

(After posting this, I saw that mom bought Fritos. My junk food soul rejoices!)

Merry Christmas, y'all. (After Thursday, of course. Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday and we will be all Turkeys and Pilgrims for 48 more hours.)

 (In the snow. Even Mother Nature is being a holiday skipper. Losing battle.)

I'm moving on

Last weekend, I was a hot mess. There are no other words to describe it. Friday night was nice and relaxing. Then, on Saturday, the tears started around lunch time and didn't stop for a few days. My hormones were equaling out (Those pesky things are so dangerous) and I had the dread of Monday's appointment. The day we found out we miscarried, they scheduled another appointment a week later to be sure of the loss. The next week, another ultrasound and appointment (of which, I won't lie, a glimmer of hope still existed) confirmed that not only had I miscarried, but a D & C was necessary since my body didn't seem to be doing its job. I had a checkup two weeks after the D & C to talk and make a game plan for the future. All weekend, all I could think was that I was about to go to a third appointment to confirm that our baby had died. At this point, the knowledge of the loss had gone on for nearly a month and I was ready to move on. After sobbing, nearly nonstop for 48 hours (I somehow pulled it together for church), it was appointment time. My hcg levels had returned to 0, and like that, a peace washed over me.No more ultrasounds, appointments,  or dread.  It was over. As much as I wanted to hold on to a hope that the ultrasound would miraculously find a heartbeat or the doctor would give me a sentence of bed rest, he didn't. We could finally wake up from our nightmare and begin to dream again.

Due to the D & C, our doctor has asked us to wait several months before trying again, to reduce the risk of another miscarriage. While, ready (I couldn't say "happy") to oblige, we knew we needed a new goal to focus on to get us through until (prayerfully) we have another healthy baby ready to join our crazy family. So, our craziness has settled in our favorite (well, Lee's favorite. Some days, it is debatable if it's my favorite) activity: running.

(When we ran the Knoxville half-marathon, we were separated by corrals by our projected finish time. Lee was a 1:45 projection and mine was a 2:15 projection. Our feelings towards this sport could best be defined by the shirts in our corrals. Lee's was full of shirts saying things like "I love running" and multiple marathon shirts. My corral was full of "I hate running" and tutus. It was a beautiful indication of our level of competition per corral.)

We have chosen to run the Myrtle Beach half-marathon on Valentine's weekend. I find although half-marathons are harder on my body and take a lot more time to train, it is much easier on my mind than 5k's. I HATE 5k races. Mostly, because I am NOT fast and even though running is a sport where you're not competing against anyone but yourself, I basically spend 30 minutes degrading myself about my speed and how if I hadn't cut last week's run 10 minutes short, I could have knocked minutes off of my time (Totally not true.) (Except for cutting my run short. That part is normally always true). Melissa is going to run it too, making it her first half. I learned from her the value of goal setting, in the form of physical activity as a reprieve from grief. I have learned that one of the best ways to fulfill a goal is to be as public as possible with it. So, here it is. February 15, here we come. (We're trying to talk several other people to go with us to the race. You still have PLENTY of time to train and my goodness, rooms at the beach are CHEAP!)

The day we found out we had lost the baby, I was in the waiting room waiting to talk to the doctor and I saw one of my favorite scriptures on the wall, directly behind Lee's head: "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

Today, I am clinging to Romans 15:13 "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Do it, Lord. fill me to overflowing.

Friday Night Lights

It's a Friday night in the Fall. Tonight, the school where I teach is playing our only in-county rivalry in football. (Of which we won 54-0) It is also senior night. Many of my sweet students looked at me and said "Mrs. Boso, are you coming tonight?" My answer was "no". This is a multi-reasoned "no":

1) Lee is attending his annual version of jock-fest and soaking up as much of WV high school soccer as possible. Our NCHS boys haven't made it to the state tournament yet, but Lee never misses it. Tonight, he had a blast while sitting with his biggest rivalry's coach and watching the team that kicked our whole region's tail advance to the state championship. (Good luck, Pikeview! Make our region proud!) With that said, I am home with my favorite 3 year old. My students begged me to bring her. In 32 degree weather. That would totally increase my chances of mother-of-the-year. (I would hate for it to be outdone by our incredibly nutritious dinner made for us this evening by Chef Boyardee.)

2) After the miscarriage and all that entailed, this was my first 5-day work week in a long time. I am pooped. As 3:20 mark approached, I began to nearly get giddy in my seat. Maybe that's why I work well with teenagers: because I still act like one. I needed the weekend and I needed it now. I seriously ran home and put on my favorite candy cane pajama pants and reheated leftovers for dinner. I needed the curtains to be pulled at 4:30 and to be securely in my happy family bubble. (That's a lot of "needs". It shows my desperation for the weekend)

So, I love my students and the school where I work. But today, my needed to keep my daughter out of freezing temperatures and my need to be an extreme social hermit won out.

Don't be alarmed by my classy snack and clean eating (literally). I'm watching Julie and Julia, which is a movie about fancy cooking. It totally balances out to be basic middle-class cooking. 

What to think when you're thinking of nothing

I am often described as a multitasker. An energizer bunny. (Sadly, no one under the age of 18 will get that). I once cooked dinner, while talking on the phone, nursing a baby, and making a store list in my head. I'm not exaggerating. I have always been capable of having multiple things going at once and last night, I had a meltdown because I couldn't focus on putting cheese on a pizza because the music was too loud. 

Since the dreaded words from the ultrasound "I'm so sorry", I have thought about nothing. I find myself staring into space and being completely weirded out that, while I'm conscious, I am delightfully only present physically. I have tried to engage myself in Bible study, planning for Christmas presents, deep conversations with friends, and long term planning with Lee and I come out empty. 

When I AM thinking about something, it's not what people would think. This morning, I found myself staring off contemplating a student's cute boots they had on.

Generally, one would assume, an empty mind should be a reprieve from my mind that is usually going 109 mph, but it's disconcerting. My bosses are wanting me to think about graduation, goal setting, lesson planning, and student control. I am thinking about the odd shape of a cinder block, lunch, and the color of floor tiles. 

My Bible study book (that I started prior to the miscarriage) asks me to think about idols, priorities, and bondage and I can't wrap my head around anything but hurt that stings so much that my brain takes a detour to couches or kitchen utensils. (I would love a gray couch)

I desperately want to move on, but I am reminded by the fact that my pants don't button, my hormones are apparent all over my face, I'm still avoided by friends who aren't sure what to say, so they continue to say nothing. I want to have the freedom to be sad, but feel the push to move on. I went back to work and went back to church. Am receiving emails and texts inviting me to social events and I die a little inside thinking of making small talk. I started showering again (I'm pretty sure my family was happy about that), doing my hair and makeup. I cook, I run, and I smile. I hug, I accept condolences, I sleep. 

But inside, nothing. 

I'm not sure how to handle it. I feel that everyone is looking at me to see if I'm on the edge of a breakdown. If I scratch my eye, do they think I'm on the brink of sobbing? I have found that there is a strange thing about the human spirit: we are considerably more aware of ourselves than other people are. Even though MY life is consumed in an abyss, I am keenly aware that I'm just another hurting person in the world. And my goodness, there are many. 

I am reminded of how quick I am to make a judgement of a person's reaction to me based on my interpretation. Maybe a person is less than friendly because they had a bad day. Or, maybe they miss an event I plan because it's all they can do to hold it together enough to cook dinner. Maybe they didn't stick around to talk, because their marriage is in trouble. Maybe a hurt from months ago is still consuming their hearts in a world that says once you're back in it, your pain shouldn't hurt anymore. 

We are inundated by a culture that believes that MY reaction to a problem should be YOUR reaction and anything less is uncomfortable or weird. 

As I have stated before, I have looked for the little bits of gratitude in a sea of hurt and disappointment, but find myself irritated at myself for the times I have concluded that someone must be upset at me because they didn't speak when I saw them. I decided that their indifference to me must mean there is a rift between us. I must have done something to upset them. 

If ANYTHING through this, I am learning about extending grace. To consider more than MY feelings in a world completely covered in more hurt than words can explain. Assume the best and pray for the person. Chances are, they're not at all upset, but distracted, overwhelmed, full of worry, or not sure where their necessities will be found. Maybe, instead of assuming someone's irritation with us, we should think about what their last thoughts are before they close their eyes. Maybe that is when we can fully understand and love each other. 

The pain of loss

When I was twelve years old, my parents pulled my brother and myself into the living room. They asked what we would think about them having a baby. Travis and I both died laughing. How absurd!! I was 12, Travis was 16 and my dad had already had his over-the-hill 40th birthday. After several moments of laughter, mom started crying. They weren't kidding. I started crying for fear of no longer being the baby of the family (judge me) and mom says she could see college funds slipping out of my brother's eyes. We soon adjusted and were overjoyed with having a baby. (And my parents adjusted to my grandfather calling them "Abraham and Sarah".) Unfortunately, 11 weeks into the pregnancy, an ultrasound revealed that the once-heard as seen heartbeat was no longer there. My first exposure to miscarriage.

Since that time, I unfortunately have had many friends and family experience the incredible pain of losing a child. Many of them a loss in first trimester, a few in the awful second and third trimester, and a few after delivering and loving the child. Loss. Pain. Unexplainable. 

When Lee and I decided to tell that we were pregnant so early (I seriously know just a few days after conception that I'm definitely pregnant.), we knew there was the risk of losing the baby. This week, an ultrasound revealed that the baby hadn't grown at all in 8 days and still had no heartbeat. The look on the face of the woman doing the ultrasound said it all and we prayed she would say nothing more. Then she uttered, "I'm so sorry". We said no words and prayed that the doctor would say that maybe we had a slow growing baby and everything would be fine. He didn't. He said that the report from the ultrasound said it was a miscarriage that hadn't happened yet and he believed it was imminent and that the baby had even gotten a tiny bit smaller. We shook hands, accepted condolences and he offered the statistics that 1 in 5 women miscarry. 

As we drove home in silence (except for to say that neither of us wanted Starbucks. A bad sign.) I began to think about the people in our lives that have had big losses: my mom's miscarriage, my grandmother's ectopic pregnancy/miscarriage/hysterectomy, my mother-in-law's 5 miscarriages, Lee's grandmother's loss of delivered twins, my childhood friend's loss of a baby 18 weeks in, and my friend's loss of her sweet Julia 16 years after delivery. I didn't feel more deeply mourned, but comforted that it seems as though, at least in my life, only 1 in 5 HASN'T miscarried. So many of the miscarriages went on to carry many healthy babies or go on to adoption. Either way, they went on. Melissa, who lost her sweet Julia 9 months ago, has demonstrated that looking for joy through pain is a daily task that eventually gets easier. 

Hebrews 12:1-2a says, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses... Let us run the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of faith." The Lord has reminded me that many have come before me with the loss of a child and unfortunately, many will come after me. And that's another part of the "parent club". Not only sharing sleepless nights, diapers, tantrums, hilarious stories, and hugs, but the pain and loss of a child. 

The evening after we got home from the doctor, Colossians 3:15 echoed continually in my head, "Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body, you were called to peace. And be thankful." I had mentioned to Lee last week that I found the fact that "And be thankful." was its own sentence seemed to be Paul using a parent voice to emphasize when we don't feel peaceful, to remind us to be thankful. Be thankful for the lessons learned, the friends that have loved, the distractions of laughter along the way, for the endless joy found in a bag of Cheetos, and for the peace and reassurance that only The Lord can give us. Be thankful. And I am. 

1+1=4?

As we all know, I am a type A personality that has big problems relinquishing control. My friends laugh at me about how I plan out details of my life that I essentially have zero control over. But I am idealistic and have determined how God can most efficiently use mine and His time by following the schedule that I have set before Him. It's a problem. I know.

When we decided to have Nina, our youth kids all laughed about "The plan" and how hilarious it was that God seemingly adhered to our timetable and we got pregnant the first month we tried. However, after 25 weeks until a week after delivery, things definitely weren't in accordance to my plan. Anyone who has ever tried to keep me on bedrest, deserves extra jewels in their crown. And medication. Stat. (Don't be alarmed by my use of medical terminology. I never missed an episode of ER. I'm practically a physician.)

The hardest part of my experience was that I felt like I missed out on the first several hours of my daughter's life. I didn't have the joyous moments of cuddling, nursing, and taking endless pictures with my hair looking like a jungle and exhaustion written all over my face. Instead, I was in surgery, swollen beyond recognition. Receiving unit after unit of blood. Both hands consumed by IVs, a catheter, compression sleeves on my legs, shivered by fever, and starving for being NPO for two days. For years, I was wrecked by the thoughts of what I could have missed if I hadn't made it. Of Lee being a single dad and my daughter never knowing me. 

When we got married, we both determined that we wanted two kids. Both of our families of origin were families of 4 and that is what seemed complete. However, from my delivery, I was crippled. Crippled with fears of "What if?" and "Will it happen again?" Often times, paralyzed. 

Last August, I was at a Living Proof Live event in Knoxville and I realized that I was living as a slave to my fear. If I didn't give God reigns to our dreams of having two children, my fear won. What wonderful joys could this world be missing out on because I was afraid of a "what if?". We decided that after issues were resolved with my sinus infections, we would try again. 

Flash forward to two weeks ago when I was at another Living Proof Live event (I love those things)

I had some time alone in my car where I wasn't singing "The wheels on the bus" or discussing the newest NCHS boys' soccer strategy of executing the 4-4-2 and was singing with my favorite band Rend Collective Experiment and these lyrics came on:

"I do not need safety
as much as I need You
You're dangerous
but Lord, You're beautiful.
I'll chase You through the pain
I'll carry my cross
Cause real love is not afraid to bleed."

I was washed over not with a resolution to try, but a peace to relinquish control. During worship, we sang "in death. In life. I'm confident and covered by the power of Your great love. My debt is paid. There's nothing that can separate my heart from Your great love." I was completely abandoned. 

So, we now have a positive pregnancy test!! Many people choose to keep their pregnancies a secret until the first trimester has passed. As you may know about me, I am an open book (Much too open for many people's likings). When Nina came, we were too excited to keep it secret. (I think we tried, but made it a grand total of 4 hours) (Also, hiding pregnancy from a classroom of 30 teenagers when you're running out of first block to be sick is about as easy as hiding a steak in the house from my dog. They know what's up.) We are making this pregnancy open this early to cover the next 40 weeks in prayer. I am still torn about what is the "right" way to pray for this. Lee and I had a long discussion about if it is the right thing to pray for health when I feel that so much good has come from my lack of health in my previous delivery. So much closer to The Lord and so much control relinquished. I am asking for prayers for wisdom for the doctors treating me. I am asking for prayers for peace, lack of stress, and guidance. I am asking for prayer for God's will to be done God's way.

According to the calcuators, due date will be the first week of June!

"Not to us. O Lord, not to us, but to Him be the glory. Psalm 115:1"

When did I become Type A?!

As a kid, I was known among my family for being super messy person. My mom gave up asking me to clean up my room everyday and opted for asking me to clear a path to my bed every night and to close my door before company came over. And oh, heavens if Nannie was coming over...

(Yes, that's a corded phone and the VHS of Home Alone)

(I cleaned when I knew Nannie was coming over)

(I mean, I even had this poster:)

Love it or leave it, y'all.

All of that changed when I went to college and realized that the matchbox dorm room I was given was my bedroom, living room, kitchen, dining room, and study. That began the beginning of my clean-freak days. My suite mates would try to move things around on my desk to see how long it would take me to recognize that things were moved. My senior year, I was our sorority's housing manager. Which meant I cleaned the kitchen. No words, y'all. None.

When I was in grad school, I lived with my brother and my "rent" was being his housekeeper. During the summers, I cleaned my parents' house too. However, something happened when it became MY house to clean: it wasn't fun anymore.

(Like, when I was a kid, I always loved cleaning my best friend, Ashley's, room and she loved cleaning mine. Odd children)

When I started teaching, I would teach full time and go to classes in the evening to complete my Spanish certification. At the same time, Lee was finishing his masters, and we were doing good to eat 2 meals at home a week (Including our weekly Dominoes run after my Monday night class.) (Gosh, when I think about how little we were home and our diet and *lack of* exercise program, it kind of *really* disturbs me.)

Fast forward a few years and our degrees are done (cue the angels singing), and I am a working mother who THRIVES on a routine and has a rigid cleaning and laundry schedule (thanks to Mia for teaching me about The FlyLady). My friends laugh about how I'm the OCD one. My mom is still fascinated that I WANT to be up early (I mean, as a kid, I had to go to afternoon kindergarten because I was so difficult to wake up.) to get my day rolling.

With school being back in session, I am having a TIME readopting my schedule. During the summer, I kept my laundry schedule going, but I had forgotten that it's toes to the fire from 5:00 am - 9:00 pm of constant on the go. 

And I only have ONE kid. ONE! 

HOW DO YOU WORKING  MOTHERS OF MULTIPLE KIDS STAY SANE!? 

I'M NEARLY IN AN OCD PANIC ATTACK! (Breathe. Breathe.)

Anyway, we have two soccer games this week, which adds to the chaos. But, I'm ready. My first full week of school (preceding Nina's 3rd birthday and Vol kickoff) will not beat me! Now, off to the busy schedule of the grocery store, playing doctor (my creativity with this game is running out), cooking dinner, laundry, cleaning zone 5, planting peppermint, hopscotch, bath time followed by book time and cuddles, and trying to fit in last night's episode of Sister Wives (Now THAT is an idea for cutting the schedule!)

In other (and MUCH more important) news: IT'S FOOTBALL TIME IN TENNESSEE!!! This is my cooking attire for the evening! GO VOLS!

Holy and Dearly Loved

I love blogs. I have a blog reader on my phone where I connect to fitness blogs, religious blogs, blogs of friends... I think it's because I love people. Blogs are basically today's journal, but for the world to see.

My first blog to which I devoted my time was Beth Moore's Blog. This year, I accepted the Siesta Memory Verse Team challenge where you memorize scripture every 1st and 15th of the month. I did it in 2011 and made it to March. This year, I have been much more diligent with the Holy Spirit revealing Himself to me so much through the scriptures.

This weekend, we were out of town at a beautiful wedding for our friend, Jill and I was a little late getting my verse posted. Tonight, as I posted it, I was rushed back to my wedding day as one of my favorite, strongest, sisters in Christ read this scripture at our wedding ceremony. Lee and I chose the scripture to be our reading, but it wasn't until today, as I reheard Rhonda reading this scripture in my head, that I was so blessed to not only have her READ the scripture, but live it out. Rhonda and her husband and children are serving as full-time missionaries in Bolivia. Anyone who knows Rhonda, knows that she embodies this scripture. And as I have the privilege of working with them from the US, I am continually influenced by her spirit, her willingness to serve, to raise her children knowing The Lord, her love for people (both at home and in South America), her service to God's Kingdom, and her ministry. I am so grateful for our friendship and her mentorship to me- not only as a pastor's wife, but as a daughter of Christ. I love you, Rhonda!

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience." -Colossians 3:12

The Pain of a Calling

Yesterday morning, I woke up a little after 7:00, rolled over to turn on the Today Show, grabbed a cup of coffee (we had just started brewing a new bag of my favorite coffee: Seattle's Best!), and grabbed my phone to continue my daily embarkation into the world of social media. My newsfeeds were peppered full of mothers' lamentations about where time had gone and cute kids with new clothes, new backpacks, and not a complaining eye about heading back to the world of education. (Disclaimer: there were no pictures of high schoolers. They will still complain. Trust me.) My home county started back this week, but my current county doesn't start back until next week. Hence my slight giggle as I saw other counties going to school and I was just going to refill my mug. ;)

Flashback several weeks ago when I saw my summer vacation slipping away from me. I began to feel sad about the constant feeling of stress that comes with being a full-time working mom. About barely seeing my pastor-coach-husband as soccer season begins to eat his time and his thoughts. And about the early mornings. At which point, I started my yearly financial analysis where I started to scrutinize our spending to find spots where we can make cuts to justify me quitting my job to stay home full time with Nina. 

(I feel that she would not be happy about this since she has told me several times in the last few weeks that she missed Mrs. Heather. I asked if I was boring. She never replied. She didn't have to.)

However, a funny thing happened to me this summer (not funny "haha", but funny "yay God!"), I was given a different perspective on our family's life of ministry. In the past, I always thought that I was a teacher and Lee was a youth pastor. (I have joked that one of us should have married for money...) After seven years of marriage, I started to look at things differently: I wasn't a teacher, but a minister to students in the school (who also makes them learn a ridiculous amount of vocabulary and conjugate verbs in 14 forms. Grin.) I looked back at when I decided to be a teacher and realized that it wasn't a choice made for the high pay, immense respect from society, and the short work hours (insert sarcasm where necessary). I chose to be a teacher because it is what The Lord called me to do. Nina asked me, "Momma, what is your job?" I told her, "I'm your momma and a teacher." "Why?" (A question I hear quite often these days) "Because it's what God asked me to do and I said 'yes'". The same week, at Sunday School, one of my adopted sons, Jesse, said "I don't think you should ask God to change your situation, but change your perspective." And that week, my perspective changed to tell me that my situation shouldn't. 

When Lee and I were first engaged, I heard him preach a sermon about how, as Christians, we are all called to full-time ministry. Maybe not in a church in the "traditional" setting of ministry. Maybe not preaching sermons or wearing suits. But maybe in a classroom, an office, a hospital, at home, or wherever God has called you. 

As much as I can't change my spiritual gifts, my talents, or my calling, I can definitely change my perspective. And I'm grateful to start a new venture into my calling soon. Sometimes "taking up your cross" can come in all forms. I'm ready. 

Summa, Summa, Summatime...

Every year, in May, I start to fantasize about the summer months. As a teacher-mom, summers are my survival mode. I begin to comprise a fantasy about cleaning out the garage, getting rested up, days on the lake, books to read, and most importantly: tons of quality time with my sweet girl. However, I am married to a wonderful youth pastor who is also a soccer coach. Essentially, all things family-wise must be completed by the last week of July because the first week of August means that my life is occupied by finding the rogue sock in the car that is making it smell like a dead rat. And rotten milk. And wet dog. You get the picture.

My first week off of school was a lot of catch-up around the house and getting ready for the beach. (What a great way to start the summer!) The beach was awesome with my parents, brother and Nannie. We headed to the "West Virginia Beach" of Myrtle. Nina was big enough this year to enjoy all aspects of the beach, but her favorite was definitely the pool. We stayed at the same hotel when she was 11 months old and I was overcome with how much she had grown since we were there last!

For several years now, I have been struggling with horrible sinus infections (mostly continuous). After enduring allergy shots for over a year, with little improvement, my doctor ordered a CT scan which revealed that my sinuses were basically swollen shut. While at the beach, the doctor called and scheduled my surgery for two days after we returned from the beach. It was a surgery I was deeply dreading (both physically and financially), but was so excited to not feel sick all of the time. Surgery went well and ended in an unexpected repair of my septum. It was a 3 week recovery and those of you who know me, know that it was a horrible 3 weeks for Lee, too. (Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep me still?!)

Speaking of, four days after surgery, we were scheduled to be at the church camp that we all love so dearly for two weeks (1 week for the week that Lee is the director and 1 week for the week my dad is the director). Recovery at Cowen wasn't an easy task, but a task I was ready to take on. Grandparents kept Nina for a few days since I wasn't allowed to lift more than 10 pounds. Many naps and lots of pain meds later, Nina was able to come to camp (Definitely not her first time, but the first time she was cognoscente as to what was going on). She has fallen in love with a place so so near and dear to our hearts (The place where we met, got engaged, and lived for the first year of our marriage).

  Two weeks was awesome, but so so exhausting. (Did I mention I had surgery four days before going?!) A few days of rest, laundry, and pretending to be a normal family in the summer (What is normal?!) Lee headed off to Cedar Point with the youth kids and I soaked up a few last days with my Beanie before heading to Alaska for an extra special wedding (Alaska has its own post: coming soon). Until this point, I had never been apart from her for longer than 3 nights and that was due to surgery. Alaska would be for five nights. I felt similar to the way I felt when I went back to work after maternity leave. However, with Nina going through the "only my mommy can do anything" stage, I knew it would be good for her, her daddy, and darn-it, momma needed a break! We both did great and were so excited to be back together (Reunited and it feels so good...)

So, after hardly being home all summer, luckily, soccer season has forced us to finally be home and pretend to be a normal family (Did anyone ever define "normal" for me?!)

I'm sure in the next few weeks, Lee and I will say what we ALWAYS say in August "Next year, we won't schedule our summer so full." But sans surgery, it has been a pretty great few months!

Planes, planes, and deep thoughts

As a child, we had family friends that were as close as family. We ate dinner together at LEAST every Sunday, did beach trips, trips to the circuses, countless overnights, games of spotlight, dangerous home displays of fireworks... Best friends. And there were like 30 of them.

In this family, was a girl that was almost exactly 9 months younger than I am, Ashley. When we're talking best friends, y'all, we had the sparkly hair ties, friendship bracelets, the half-heart best friends necklace from Claire's, countless trips together, convincing fantasies of marrying a New Kid on the Block (luckily, I always wanted to marry Joe and she wanted to marry Jordan. It was more simple that way.)

At my seventh birthday party, I decided I wanted to do "Dress Like Your Mother" birthday party. This was in the middle of the dance aerobics phase, and my momma loved her some Jane Fonda. I came adorned in my leotard and leg warmers (why did they need leg warmers anyway?! I sweat like a hog during a dance party. I'm sorry "aerobics")

(Do hogs sweat??)

Ashley came in an adorable purple dress with yellow trim and had a huge bed pillow strapped on to her stomach, because at this point, her momma was about 52 weeks pregnant. While we were having cake, Ashley's Granny came through our front door and said, "Ashley, let's go! Your mom is having the baby!" A beautiful girl, Kristen Bryce was born. 

I'll save you many stories of dirty diapers, obsessions with Barney and the movie Prancer (or "Pwancer" as Kris called it) and stories of the baby sister I never had, but for the next few days, I will tell you about where we are today. 

This morning at o' dark thirty, Lee and I hopped in the car, in a monsoon of a rainstorm on (in by best Paul Revere voice) "The Boy Scouts are leaving" day to take me to the airport. After a few hops of flights an layovers, mom, dad, and I are currently soaring over the Alaskan mountains to go to Kristen's wedding. 

Kristen is a graduate student in AK and my dad will be the officiant for the ceremony. 

Today's flyings have been relatively uneventful (the way I like it) including, but not limited to:

- Some car time with my hubby who got back from an amusement park trip worn the youth at midnight last night. 

- A Tudor's Peppi biscuit. (Don't listen to Dewayne Chapman, They're amazing. 

- Absolutely nothing fun happening in Detroit

- An incredible lunch at a French bakery that had a side greens salad (VEGETABLES?! In an airport?!?!) and a curry chicken salad on a croissant 

And I would be lying if I didn't admit my purchase of a chocolate croissant (imagine my beautiful French accent)

The flight from Minneapolis to Anchorage has been long but not miserable. 

(Forgive my face squish resulting in 30 chins)

I have occupied myself by alternating between 3 awesome reads:

- The Boston Marathon edition of Runner's World 

My mind is completely blown by this issue and completely inspired. I think it is time I schedule a few road races!

- Cutting the Sweet with the Salty by Sophie Hudson. Such a hilarious book about growing up in the Deep South. A must read in my opinion (it's on Kindle. So, if you see a picture of the book, it is because I remembered to take one once I got back to phone service)

- No Other Gods by Kelly Minter. I'm only 30 pages in, but Kelly's insight, interpretation of scripture, and communication is preparing my heart for some awesome God time in the next bit of time in my life. So excited. 

Here are a few pics of us coming into Alaska!

More to come!!

(Whisper a prayer for me. This is the longest I've been away from Nina and I continue to ugly face cry over missing her already)

A Run to Remember

In 2009, our church took a group of women to Gasaway Baptist Church for a Beth Moore simulcast. We took a group of women in the church van (because, let's admit it: it's just more fun that way) and there was a woman with us I had never met before. During the weekend, I came to find out that her name was Melissa, she was the mother of two daughters (one of which had Trisomy 18), and that she was legally blind. She was relatively quiet, but we felt like she belonged with us. 

Several weeks later, I started an in-home Bible study, on Saturday mornings (what were we thinking?!) where we studied "Breaking Free". I came to hear about the marvel of my friend, super woman. Melissa would awake every morning at 4:30 to begin getting ready to feed Julia. She required medicine before eating, was fed with a syringe, and had to remain upright for a while after her meals. She required breathing treatments, chest physical therapy, and never turned down a good cuddle. Melissa would spend around 9 hours a day showering love and careful care on her sweet firstborn. Even though Julia was never able to communicate, we lived for the rare smiles and sweet eye contact (and those curls!! Loved her curls). 

Since our first meeting, in 2009, Melissa and her family have become some of our dearest and best family friends. When I was awarded (sarcasm) the gift of bed rest when I was pregnant, Melissa occupied me with a nearly continual string of text messages for the whole six weeks. In 2010, our Nina inspired to have the crazy, wild man, Elliot in 2011. (The story behind Melissa telling me she was expecting was just too precious. It included a sausage biscuit, a smiling 3 month old, and me dancing. Kind of like a modern day John the Baptist leaping in the womb story. But with a biscuit. And not our Savior... Anyway...)

This past January, our sweet Julia went to be with Jesus and was able to get reprieve from all of her earthly ailments. She truly was a miracle when only given 3-6 months to live at birth, she was able to spend 16 1/2 years spreading joy to us lucky folks here. Here is a pic of Nina and "Hoolie" as Nina loved to call her.

(I nearly cropped the photo, but was overwhelmed by Elliot's adorableness and Cami's creepiness. And the fact that Brad and Lee are completely unmoved by either. Due to Julia's suppressed immune system and Nina being a grubby toddler, I rarely let her touch Julia's hands. I must have been a slow mover that day, bc she is totally sneaking a hand-hold there)

Today, we ran the Race to Remember 5K in honor of our sweet girl. Melissa started training early and worked through asthma attacks to make it happen. We had more than 30 people get together to run and walk to show our love for Julia and our support for Brad, Melissa, Cami, and Elliot. 

There were a ton of awards given out (Even Brad got one for walking. And he walked with our friend, Yancy, who had a backpack full of peanut butter cookies and a thermos of coffee. Serious competitors here, people. Serious.) Besides bookoos of individual awards (I got second in my age division to my dentist. Probably smart that I didn't beat her since she has sharp instruments in my mouth), our group won 1st for most participants and 1st overall team score. 

Here are the trophies on the Dorsey's mantel 

Here is Melissa finishing her first 5K (that she worked super hard to accomplish) and our friend, Marlo who was her running coach! (Look how cute their shoes are!)

So proud of my friend and loved being with people who loved our Jules! Miss you, sweet girl! 

Team Julia! We run for those who can't!

The knoxhills half-marathon

Well, I did it. I ran my first half-marathon. And I loved it. This past weekend, Lee and I took off my old stomping grounds of Knoxville, TN starting at World's Fair Park, winding through campus, past the Torchbearer, along the TN river, through the old, gorgeous Cherokee neighborhood, along a covered trail path, back through campus and ending on the football field. Seriously, could they make a half-marathon more catered to me?! (I mean, maybe if they gave you a cup of coffee instead of energy gel. That would be amazing. Maybe we should work on that.)

Saturday, we headed to the runners' expo to pick up our race packets and to shop around. While there, I saw a shirt that said "The Knox hills marathon". Many people warned us that the Knoxville course was very hilly. We politely thanked them, then went on to say "We've been training in Summersville! It seriously can't be that bad!" We laughed at the shirt and went on to explore downtown. (Which has really turned super fun! When I was there, it was nothing more than some swanky hotels, an art museum, and a bunch of banks. Now, it has boutiques, theaters, cafés, restaurants, and on Saturday, had a sidewalk chalk competition! Where was that 8 years ago?!)

Saturday evening, we had dinner with one of my best friends, Rachel, and her family. Our kids hadn't met each other before, so it was a super sweet moment for us. (But we were too busy wrangling kids to take a picture.)

Sunday, I woke up with a pit in my stomach. I did NOT want to do this. After I ate and had my coffee, I realized it was time to get dressed. The nausea grew. We headed downtown to the start line and saw all of the people (7,500 total runners for all of the races) and got more dreadful. We immediately hopped in line for the portapotty and I began to appreciate what challenges most people had to endure to be there that morning. The start times were the same for the half and the full, so I was surrounded by people who were excited and nervous. Some wearing wacky outfits, some wearing shirts for an organization or a cause, many taped up and wearing braces. For most of us, the start line was months before and the finish line was simply showing up to the start line.

Once the race started, the excitement was everywhere. The UT band was our send off and we were off and running! With water stops and portapotties every 2 miles, I was wondering where these people were when I was training?! As we went through an old neighborhood, encouragement signs were everywhere. My favorite read "You can't quit! You're not the pope!"

We had driven the course the day before and were sure that the "hills" were merely "inclines" an we'd be fine until mile 11. I quickly laughed at this philosophy as we climbed hills most of the race and realized that "Knox hills" was a well-earned name for this course!

Between miles 8 and 9, a familiar pain that I experienced on my 11 mile run sprang up into my right hip. I stopped several times to stretch, but was getting little relief. As the race progressed, a blister formed on my left foot from trying to compensate for the pain on my right. At this point, my times were slowing and I knew I was going to miss my 2:15 goal, but knew if I could run through the pain, I could not exceed my ceiling of 2:30. In the middle of my 9th mile, I looked at my watch and knew that Lee (if finishing in his projected time) should be crossing the finish line (an impressive 1:45:57!), and this gave me a push. I was close. Really close.

I had my playlist on "shuffle" and was wishing I could have arranged my songs before the race started. As I was entering my 12th mile, God decided to show off and "Whom Shall I Fear?" began to play. It was the pinnacle. Tears steamed down my face as I began to not think about what others had done to come this far, but what God did in my life the last 12 weeks of training and all of the time we had together and He was there to carry me to the finish line. A 2:26:21 finish was my official time and I was proud of it. We sat in the stands, eating the awesome food they provided to the finishers as I soaked in the TN sun, enjoyed my family (including my brother), and loved talking to one of my by-chance-not-by-blood sisters and seeing our children interact. Full circle as I am in Neyland stadium.

At the 3:15 mark, we witness a woman l enter the stadium and she literally danced her way to the finish. Why hadn't I thought about that?! (Maybe bc if I had stopped to do that, my hip wouldn't have made it to the end?!) It was the perfect moment to soak in.

I can't wait for my next half (and am not sure I'll ever want to tackle a full). Now, to find a flatter course...

The morning of the race

After the race (and one of my favorite family pics)

The double blister

Even the man running on the medal knew about the hills

After the run, Rachel and I went to explore the new ADPi house (we're totally jealous)

My Deep Running Thoughts

Today, Lee took the senior high youth to Marshall University to explore the campus and attend Baptist Campus Ministries. I left early this morning to take my car for an oil change and Nina to her first dentist appointment (with my mom being nothing short of the best hygienist ever)

(Nina was awesome and was fascinated by Gigi's office)

 The glasses were to help with the bright light, but Nina is convinced it's so she matched Gigi.

The longer I was alone today, the more I had nervous time to think. Those of you who have been subjected to listening to my constant internal dialogue know that when left alone with my thoughts, constant worse-case scenarios play in my mind. And you, my dear readers, are about to be subjected to a censored, less dramatic version of my internal thoughts from today.

(You have been warned. You can stop reading at the cute kid in the dentist's chair)

This Sunday is my first half-marathon. When I set out for this half, I'm not going to lie when I say that I thought I would probably get hurt, fall behind on my training, or develop another sinus infection (only one in the whole 12 week plan; I'm pretty sure that's a new record for me!). Due to Lee's very busy Saturday schedule, most of my Saturday, long runs have been on the treadmill (If it hadn't been for The Bachelor, I would have never gotten through). So, my 10 mile run comes about and I KNOW it's time for me to hit the pavement, not the basement. 10 wasn't too awful. Had some noticeable hip pain from hills, but nothing too bad. Even wore my favorite heels to a wedding that afternoon

  Then 11 mile day came. I left the run thinking it was awful. (I have to walk a lot because I believe I'm more ADD than I ever imagined and non-stop running for 2+ hours just drives me nuts.) I finished it in 2:17. Not bad at all for hoping to be around the 2:15 mark for the race (Especially knowing how much worse the hills are in Summersville than in pretty much anywhere else). Then 12. Dear heavens. I'll spare you the horrible details of walks, boredom, and even stopping off at Dairy Queen. (Just to fill up my water bottles, I swear) I will tell you that there was a ginormous, dead fox on the side of the road that I almost took a picture of (just another excuse to stop running for a bit), but didn't think y'all would want to see a squished road kill with brains and intestines bulging. However, I finished 12 miles in 2:43. Humiliating. I nearly didn't post my run to RunKeeper to hide my slowness.

The panic button had been pushed. Could I finish 13.1? Yes. May my time just disappoint me so much that I wish I hadn't run? It's possible. I immediately start texting my seasoned half-marathon friend, Cindy (who is an English teacher and I know she reads my blog. Totally makes me paranoid about punctuation. When in doubt, use "...") She assured me that nerves are normal and that I'll surprise myself with completing, not in last place (Still not sure I'm buying her on that one). My doubts have continued to get a hold of me and have completely been stalking my brain. But in the last 24 hours, I have been given the best advice yet 1) From my sister-in-law: "This is just you. Not Lee and his times. Just you." Anytime I would start to tell her about my insecurity of running the same race as my husband who has gotten much faster since his first half-marathon, she countered with "Nope. Just you." (Love her.) And from Cindy 2) It's not going to get cancelled. This is going to happen. No backing out now.

This week, I have a few light runs to keep my legs moving, but let them rest. Today, was a 2 mile at race pace and I finished with the Christian battle cry "Whom Shall I Fear" by Chris Tomlin. "I know who goes before me. I know who stands behind. The God of angel armies, is always by my side." This week, I am determined to not let the enemy tell me what I can't do. My running time is my favorite worship time (even though I have to keep my hands down while doing long runs. I'm always afraid people will think I'm flagging them down instead of worshiping.). Karen speaks the truth that it isn't about Lee, but it's also not just about me. I have a date with my worship playlist on Sunday morning to prove to Him that I will "present my body as a willing sacrifice, holy and acceptable to Him". (Romans 12:2) That "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Phil 4:13) When I hit the hill on Sunday, at mile 11 and I start to think "I can NOT do this for 2 more miles" I'll remember that 1) that hill has 100' less than the awful hill we run on 19 and 2) "Nothing formed against me shall stand. You hold the whole world in Your hands. I'm holding on to Your promises. You are faithful. You are faithful." Therefore I will be.