I slept in today.
But I had a really good reason.
So I'm okay with it.
I'm okay that I didn't get a shower. I didn't get to make myself breakfast (or help clean up the one that was made for me, thanks, Love.) I didn't get to write the blog that was spinning in my head. I didn't get to journal or plan my day. I didn't get to take care of myself. I just got up, fed Noah, scarfed down my breakfast and jumped in the car. (And I forgot to take something important to work.)
But, remember, I had a good reason.
So it's okay, right?
All we had to do was put an X on every day we'd read our Bibles in the little calendar and we'd get a dollar for each day. I think my bigger brothers had to read at least a whole chapter for it to count and my goal was smaller... but I don't remember the details. All I remember is...
I remember building snow forts deep in the snow in winter and swinging from the laundry t-post lines in the summer. And I remember all of us being friends. My brothers and all the neighbors. But Kate was my best friend.
I didn't want to leave North Dakota and I didn't understand why my parents were so eager to. My dad had been assigned there for six years, longer than most military assignments and it wasn't exactly an ideal location. Colorado was wonderful compared to North Dakota, they said.
But I don't have friends in Colorado.
I remember praying every night with my dad that I would make friends. I was desperate for friends.
Now, we're just beginning to feel connected here in San Diego, three years later, and we're getting ready to start over.
Let me rewind...
I was just reading a kids devotional to see if it was one I might want to read to N.
The first day of the devotional was sad.
I keep trying to skip to my happy ending, but I keep finding myself stuck in--what J, I and Brene Brown lovingly refer to as--Act Two
Every time I skip to Happy Ending... Act Two slaps me in the face and says, "Haha! Not yet you don't!"
I'm so afraid of failure.
Everyday I wish it weren't true, but everyday I avoid failure.
I'm challenging myself to something I don't want to do right now. Something I think most people don't ever want to do, but most have to at some points in their lives.
I ran a half marathon a few weeks ago. Then I got a couple 13.1 stickers and when I drive my car I can see the bumper sticker in my rearview mirror. That became meaningful to me.
My half marathon is currently in my REARview mirror. Behind me.
My last blog about the half marathon talked about how I'm a different person because of what I did yesterday, but there's this whole life in front of me saying:
What I did yesterday means nothing unless I'm still using it to propel me forward.
Being a parent is the best hard thing I've ever done. I love it excruciatingly.
One thing that I've discovered that is making it a bit harder than I even thought it would be is not having Grandma here.
Grandma loves my little boy about as much as...
Last night Noah fell asleep in my arms after eating.
He snuggled up against me in my bed and I prayed I could just fall asleep and not have to move him.
Because oh man.
I prayed. I thanked God for my boy. And dear Jesus please just make time stand still for a little bit. Don't let my boy grow up just yet.
When I woke up today I was actually a different person than I was when I woke up yesterday. When woke up today, I was a person who finished 13.1 miles in less than three hours. That's a person I never thought I'd be. But I am that person.
Until a few years ago I said that running a half marathon was impossible for me.
Today when I woke up, I'm someone who's accomplished something impossible...
No one ever believes me.
No matter how much I preface beforehand as soon as the words "I'm running a half-marathon tomorrow" come out of my mouth people refuse to believe I'm not an athlete.
No really. In high school I thought runners were worse than nerds. I thought sitting and practicing for a math-a-thon sounded like more fun than going out for a jog.
When I decided I wanted to become a runner I downloaded a C25K App (Couch to 5K) and the first run it takes you on says to run for SIXTY seconds and walk for ninety and I COULDN'T DO IT!
I couldn't jog for a MINUTE. That's how much I'm not a runner.