Wednesday, May 8, 2019

#belight, #donotlookaway, #prayandmore, #nomorebandaids

**I am deeply embarrassed by the confession I am about to make below... nothing about the internal dialogue I had with myself recorded here presents me as a sane or feeling person, nor someone I'm proud of. 

**Warning: my words are not sensitive. Only read on if you are not directly affected by yesterday's tragedy. 


My brain yesterday:

Me: I'm upset. Like, really sad and upset.

Me: But, wait. Am I being melodramatic? Should I be this wrecked? 

[Wait for it... cue what I'm embarrassed about:]

After all, no one died.

Me: WTF. Did that just happen? Did I just downplay a deeply traumatic experience that occurred 17 minutes from my house and terrorized thousands directly (and millions indirectly) by rationalizing it? Did I just make "no deaths" a win? 

Me: Why yes. Yes, that's exactly what I just did.

Me: Back to really sad and upset + an added self-loathing that my thoughts did that + anger at Society As It Stands which I blame, at least in part, for my desensitizing-leads-to-rationalizing + more self-loathing for being weak enough to allow Society As It Stands to have that kind of power over me.

~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~     ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~     

By 5:00pm I was so exhausted I was ready for bed.

Then, a couple hours later, the news hit that an 18-year-old boy died.

All of it - ALL OF IT - is not ok. 

Like NONE of it.

I sent an email to some core leaders at my church - which is in Highlands Ranch a mere few minutes from The Stem School - because this Saturday St. Andrew UMC is hosting a day of service (called BigServe), and I wanted to find out how our faith community on that day might respond. 

But what I found out is that I wasn't looking for answers to that question. 

I didn't know it, but what I actually was looking for was for me: I needed encouragement. I think each of us involved in the subsequent email stream was, too. 

We said things to each other like, 

We will pray big prayers on Saturday evening's Big Serve closing ceremony, we will celebrate our incredible first responders, and make a big sign to deliver to STEM Saturday just reminding them that their community and their people are incredibly loved by ours.


We said things to each other like,

But HOPE is always with us and God is our Hope. Let us each help our own children and encourage others to help their children as they are able.  God is with us.  And service under the Big Serve umbrella shows all that God is with us.


We said things to each other like,

And the words of my wise grandmother keep pinging my heart today

“The darkest is before the dawn. It is always the darkest before the dawn”

I hope for myself- and us all - we truly rest tonight 

And wake up able to fight for the light- and be the light.

I am so thankful to be a part of this family that is St Andrew... where we are fighting for the light, by the simple act of loving and encouraging each other - to be the light.


And I found it.

I found the encouragement I didn't know I was looking for.

I went to sleep (not at 5:00pm, but definitely early) with the words of my faith community ringing loudest in my consciousness, not the self-loathing ones, not the ones saturated in helplessness, not the ones that drag me down into darkness...fear...anxiety. Those words were all there too, but when I pivoted toward what I know of God, the loudest words were different... better... truer.

I woke up with these hashtags on the tip of my tongue:
#belight, #donotlookaway, #prayandmore, #nomorebandaids

Through bacon and toast breakfast:
#belight, #donotlookaway, #prayandmore, #nomorebandaids

Through the search for sweatpants in laundry piles:
#belight, #donotlookaway, #prayandmore, #nomorebandaids

Through the dreary rain on way to school:
#belight, #donotlookaway, #prayandmore, #nomorebandaids

As I sit here typing away while my darling daughter giggles at Mickey Mouse Clubhouse:
#belight, #donotlookaway, #prayandmore, #nomorebandaids

I will not let my fear use the tools of rationalization, desensitization, and self-protection persuade me to look away, to shield me from this. 

Light reorients what needs to be in the spotlight back to the spotlight, illuminated. 

We don't have to be afraid to choose light, even when it's scary... because Truth tells us this: 

LIGHT ALWAYS WINS.

When we walk out our door to the garage, this is what we see. 
Not the garbage can, not the cardboard boxes, not the gas can... 
Rather, this reminder I clipped from a secular magazine years ago and what I say 
to my kids every morning when they trickle out into the world: BE LIGHT.

P.S. If you are not in a solid or strong place to Be Light, that's OK too. Because that means someone else gets to be Light for you. There's Light being created by that opportunity. 

P.S.S. Being Light looks different to each of us; just as Light comes in so many forms, so does our representation of it. And, super importantly: it doesn't have to be grand. I just watched a short clip of a family surrounding their son when he read for the first time his acceptance letter to law school, all bouncing up and down and cheering on this rising star, and I thought: Putting that out there is Light. Smiling when you hold the door for someone. That's Light. Just keep sharing Light; there's plenty of it.

P.S.S.S. I do not know yet what "pray and more" and "no more bandaids" mean. The Light doesn't always explain itself right away.


Saturday, May 4, 2019

#4in30by40

Some of you know my husband.

If you don't, I need to tell you something: He is of the goal-driven, results-oriented type.

To illustrate this, I will tell you that his response when I ask how he's recovering from, let's say a nasty cold, is almost predictably numerical... "I'm at 85%." "or I'm nearly there, maybe about 92%."

(By comparison, I usually answer "fine" or "not fine" or "really not fine.")

Scott has always been a guy who describes everything from how far off-set it is from 100%.

He likes numbers, he likes quantifiable marks, he likes knowing what he is working towards and then knowing what it means to have achieved it (then, he achieves the HELL out of it).

I like sipping tea and giggling at the squirrels in our backyard.

It's clear we're a mismatch made in heaven.

But before I go and make it sound like I'm averse to his style, let me be the first to tell you how much I appreciate it.

*I wouldn't have run a marathon without Scott (he wrote out my training guide)
*I wouldn't have ever finished unpacking from any move without Scott (he set goals for completion)
*I would never be able to retire if Scott wasn't my husband (his eye on our net egg is sharp and unwavering). Mine. Is. Not.

So, here I am EXACTLY TWO MONTHS AWAY FROM MY FORTIETH BIRTHDAY... and Scott shows up, like he often does, to be my amp-it-up cheerleader.

I was recently telling him that my treadmill work-outs are good, but that I am having a hard time pacing where I want to pace, i.e below the 8 minute mile mark.

BEFORE I KNEW IT, he had invented a hashtag.

A HASHTAG, people!!! To motivate me toward a golly-dang goal. (Remember, goals are not super-attractive to me... after all, I am quite easily pleased by squirrels)

#4in30by40 is what it is.

On July 3, 2019 by 7:11am, my exact 40th birthday, I will run 4 miles in 30 minutes (says Scott).

I dig it.

I really dig it.

I dig it enough to let those around me and the World Wide Web know about it.

#4in30by40 means 7:30 pace for 4 miles.

Remember.I've.been.struggling.to.hit.8.minute.pace.

So, it's a stretch. Doable, but exactly what Scott finds entertaining and worth it: a jolly good challenge.

I'm pretty stoked, myself. Challenge... goal... #4in30... HERE I COME.



Me, after today's run with Scott. 

I doubled over after we were done, not knowing when I opened my mouth if I was going to 

spit 
or 
hurl. 


Lucky for me: I spit.