Dedicating The Last Mile

Hands, put your empty hands in mine
And scars, show me all the scars you hide
And hey, if your wings are broken
Please take mine so yours can open, too
'Cause I'm gonna stand by you

--Rachel Platten



ON MARATHONS:

Back in May of 2005, Ben ran his first (and only--so far) marathon.  He read a couple of books on how to train, and he successfully ran it with his sister and my brother by his side.  He had been a runner for years, but not this extreme distance.  Though he trained, prepared and finished, it was still incredibly difficult for him to do.  His stomach had revolted during the race which held him up for 20 minutes, and for about two weeks after the race he hobbled around like an old man, the sides of both of his feet bruised and painful from swelling inside of his shoes during the 26.2 miles.  When he finished the race, we both cried as we hugged, celebrating his victory.  The entire process of it all was extremely inspiring and emotional.

Ben told me after the race was over that in one of the books he had read to prepare, it shared a tip to maintain motivation during the race by dedicating each mile he ran to someone significant in his life.  He said he dedicated all of his to different people; his parents, his friends, his teachers, his siblings, to me, to our unborn son (who would be born 2 weeks later) and to the other children who would follow, to God, to himself, to his sister and my brother.  He said thinking of who he was running for kept him focused, pushing through the exhaustion and pain.

Oh, tears make kaleidoscopes in your eyes
And hurt, I know you're hurting, but so am I.
And, love, if your wings are broken
Borrow mine 'til yours can open, too.
'Cause I'm gonna stand by you

Last weekend found us in the kitchen, once again crying as we held each other.  We are on the final mile of the marathon he has been running for the past 8 years.  You would think being at the end of this grad school process....being able to see the faces of loved ones come into focus through the crowds....the color of the finish line ribbon brightening as it nears.... knowing these are the very last steps he would have to run before finally being done would bring some sort of relief just because he is so close.

Instead, the fear of falling and not making it back up, the worry that he may cross too late to be awarded the accolade for starting and finishing this near-decade journey has gripped him.  The terror that the voice in his head that has tried for eight agonizing years to convince him he will never be Good Enough has finally become so loud that it is all he can hear, it has stopped him in his tracks.  He is frozen and immobile.

Even if we're breaking down, we can find a way to break through
Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through Hell with you.
Love, you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna stand by you.

I am not, and never have been, a runner.  However, I am a pretty great cheerleader.  I've been given the Gift of seeing the best in others.  I'm great at motivational speeches and finding a silver lining, at seeing Gifts of others no matter how deeply buried they are, and doing all I can to bring them to the forefront.  Somehow when the mountain becomes steeper and the path more rocky, I can summon Faith, Courage and Belief in the Good that it could overcome anything--especially when it comes to those I love.

Oh, truth—I guess truth is what you believe in
And faith—I think faith is having a reason.
And I know now, love, if your wings are broken
Borrow mine 'til yours can open, too.
'Cause I'm gonna stand by you.

I'm sure being on the receiving end of me as a cheerleader could potentially become extremely obnoxious to someone who just wants to hear the words "It's okay to give up.  You've done enough, you can stop running now.  Just sit down and rest, breathe.  Don't push yourself anymore."

The thing about the marathon of grad school is that there have been so many times through this process I have felt God inside of it--writing this story, molding and shaping both Ben and I to become who He wants us to.  With each hurdle that has been put along the miles Ben has run and I have cheered along by his side, I have the sense that there is a greater purpose at work.  So the blistered feet, the scrapes and stumbles, the mistakes and disappointments we have continually faced have not devastated me, but only caused me to feel this purpose even more intrinsically than before.  My push to finish the race, my belief in the Good, my motivational speeches--they're all extremely sincere.  Where they come from inside of me, I can only describe that place as Truth.  Something I know without knowing how I know it.  It's just there, existing as honestly as something I can actually see or touch.

I'll be your eyes 'til yours can shine

And I'll be your arms, I'll be your steady satellite.

And when you can't rise, well, I'll crawl with you on hands and knees
'Cause I... I'm gonna stand by you.

Aside from potentially driving a runner crazy, another problem with being a cheerleader is that there is only so much I can do when it really comes down to it.  Ben is the one reading, training and running.  No matter how many speeches I yell from the sidelines, how many cups of water I hand to him as he jogs by me, no matter how much I can feel that he can finish this, I have no control over how much he feels it.  I cannot physically move his legs for him, breathe more air into his lungs or transfer my adrenaline into his veins.  If I could--believe me, I would.  Over and over again, no matter what that sacrifice might to do my own body.  I would do it.

You're all I never knew I needed
And the heart—sometimes it's unclear why it's beating.
And, love, if your wings are broken
We can brave through those emotions, too.
'Cause I'm gonna stand by you.

When we stood holding each other last weekend in the kitchen while our baby girl slept above us in the crib on the second floor and our two middle girls played together above us in their bedroom and our son cheered and yelled at the game system above us in the loft, I felt this as a Moment for us.  Time slows, and I'm keenly aware of all of my senses, combined with the feeling of him with me.  We've had several of them in our marriage--most of them happening during the past eight years of this marathon we have been participating in together.

"Do you remember telling me when you ran your marathon you dedicated each mile to someone, to help you stay motivated and to finish?"  I asked.  "Will that help?  I want this last mile to be for you, for you to feel your worth and acknowledge all you've been through and how hard you've fought."

"No," he replied.  "This last mile is for you.  I would not be here if it weren't for you, I would have quit long ago.  This last mile I dedicate to you."

I hugged him tighter and cried harder.  "Don't give up.  You finish this." I whispered, handing another metaphorical cup of water to my weary, incredible runner.

After a few minutes we separated, Ben picked himself back up and began running his last mile again.

Much later that night, while the kids were asleep and Ben was downstairs working, I prayed.  "Please, please, please," were the only words I could say as tears streamed down my face.  Even though I couldn't say any more, I silently finished my prayer.  Asking directly for the things Ben and I were both fighting for, even if that required a miracle happening.  Pleading for that miracle to come to pass.  Also adding in though, that if that miracle is not part of the story He is writing for us, to be able to withstand the blows.  As much as I really, really want him to receive the certificate he has been working for years to receive, I care more about the state of my runner when this is over.  

"Miracle or not, this will end regardless.  Just please give us the strength to still stand whatever the outcome is."  These were the words I silently ended my prayer with.  I felt immediate reassurance from that Truth place, that my words were heard.

It was then that I decided.

Ben may be dedicating his last mile of this marathon to me, but I am dedicating my last mile as a cheerleader and a support of this marathon to God, because without Him urging me and strengthening me so I could encourage Ben, I would not still be here.


And now as the finish line approaches, and Ben gives the last of this marathon everything he has,  and I yell my words of encouragement while he makes his way down the final path, and God continues to write Our Story,

we wait.

Introducing....

Claire Edith Strader

Born 11/17/14 at 4:08 pm, 8lbs even, 21 inches

Birth story to follow, for now here are

pictures from Claire's first 24 hours.

We love you, baby girl!  Happy Birth Day.

Water balloons.

(What my pregnancy feet look like at 9 am, and then at 9 pm.) 

Every morning when I wake up, I have little to no use of my right hand.  The nights bring a continual loss of circulation in my fingers stretching all the way up to my elbow, and by the time I rise, my fingers are so stiff and swollen and in pain that I have no grip or ability to hold even a knife to butter toast for my children.

I can no longer style Leah's hair--which completely thwarts her plans to look as much like the Fancy Nancy book character as possible.  She cries as she begs for a bun or a braid, and I apologize that the best I can do right now is a haphazard ponytail, or to brush through it and clip in a flower or place a headband.  I allow her to work through her 5 year old emotion without feeling guilty, because I know I'm doing the best I can.  Some mornings I'm more patient with her emotions than others.

At breakfast, I gag down my liquid iron and wait the 30 minutes required before eating while I prepare a protein smoothie and toast for my kids.  I now allow them--once they're completely ready for school--to watch a morning show while they eat, because it diverts their attention to something aside from each other to bother and screech at.

I try to find something acceptable to wear in public, though I really don't care much what others think.  By "acceptable," my standards have lowered extremely, and the most I do is brush my teeth, put on my contacts, deoderant, and grab my sunglasses.  Because of the constant loss of circulation in my right hand, I save makeup-wearing days for Sunday.  And because showers cause severe swelling in my feet, I save showering for just before bedtime.

By this time, the iron has settled in, and my stomach lurches but I know the only way to get through it is to force down food to absorb it.  So I do.  And take some deep breaths to keep the food down.

Their backpacks are on and we figure out whose turn it is to pray, as we fold our arms.  Then we are out the door.

My morning routine used to be coming home with June after dropping off the older kids and letting her watch her favorite movie "Bolt," while I lay next to her on the couch.  But that has become a luxury now instead of routine, due to an increase in visits to the doctor or specialist.

This morning, I packed snacks and a drink as well as our ipad (in case of 3 yr old tantrum emergencies) and drove the 20 minutes with June to my consultation with the hematologist.  Usually we are quickly seen, but this morning the clock ticked loudly as the minutes dragged on.  June ate one snack after another--her string cheese, applesauce, crackers and fruit snacks--while she chatted with me and stared at those coming in an out of the waiting room while we stayed put.

I was feeling particularly sorry for myself, staring down at my feet which had begun to seriously swell during the 38 minutes we had been waiting.  I was feeling apprehensive about this appointment, nervous about the outcome of my current blood draw and iron count, because I had heard the results of them over the phone the day before, and gagging down the liquid iron twice a day had not seemed to make much difference.  I was disappointed at the outcome, because there had been days where the iron had made me so sick I had to make sure I was close to a bathroom for the majority of the morning.  I had changed my diet to include iron-rich foods instead of the carbs I adore so much.  I endured the weeks of stomach discomfort because of a purpose, and now it all seemed to have been for nothing.

I knew this would mean taking more extreme measures, and just the thought of the options discussed at a previous appointment made my forehead break out into a sweat and a wave of nausea overcome me.  I tried to distract my discouraged and nervous thoughts.

Looking up, I noticed a beautiful woman and her good-looking husband walk through the swinging glass doors.  June noticed her as well.  She checked in at the front desk, and they settled into a seat across from ours.  I guessed she was maybe 10 years older than me, wearing grey skinny jeans, a cute sweater, sparkling earrings, her makeup flawless.  She carried a soft, tan and white, chevron-patterned blanket and a large water bottle.  She wore a stylish grey hat that matched her jeans.

Underneath the hat, she was bald.

The hematologist I see works at the Cancer Institute, and the majority of those surrounding us in the waiting room were those who were in different stages of illness and treatment.  But there was something about this lovely woman, whose swollen cheeks from her medication did not match the rest of her thin body.  She did not carry the air of defeat so many others I watched seemed to.  

June continued to stare at her, and I wondered if she was going to blurt out something in 3-year-old fashion about her hair being gone, but instead she said loudly,

"Momma, that pretty lady is so very firsty,"  meaning thirsty, as she watched the woman take another drink from her pale pink water bottle.

The woman turned to us and smiled, waving at June.  June shyly tucked her head behind my arm, but lifted up a small hand to wave back to her.  She giggled as she hid, so I asked her what she thought of the pretty lady's earrings.

"Oh yes, I love hers earrings.  She's so fashion, Mom!"  And she peeked around my arm for another glance at her new friend, who continued to smile at us.  She asked June her name, and a few other questions, and June replied to them from behind my arm, peeking around and smiling as she answered.

Just then, the nurse opened the door and called my name.  I gathered up our belongings and reached for June's hand.  She shyly waved goodbye to the woman in the waiting room, and softly said, "Bye, friend," as we walked around the chairs.  I told her I hoped she would have a good day, and she waved goodbye to us.

The hematologist delivered the news I had been anticipating--iron infusions would begin in two weeks.  Because of a couple of seriously bad experiences with having my blood drawn, I have an extreme aversion to needles and especially IV's, and I gulped as I heard the appointments would take 30 minutes to an hour each time, depending on "how difficult it was to find a good vein."  I knew my veins are not ideal, and thoughts raced as to what "finding a good vein" might entail.

But the face of the woman in the waiting room came to my mind, and I remembered her reason for being there.  That could be me someday, waiting for the appointment to have a chemo infusion instead of iron, praying that the medicine that would make me so sick and exhausted would fight the enemy inside of my own body that was threatening to take my life.  Right now, my story is so much easier than hers.

This doesn't mean right now isn't hard, it is.  And it has been.  I have become a "bare minimum mom," one who yells across the house because the thought of walking on my water-ballooned swollen feet from the kitchen to the bedroom feels like too much of an effort, the one who has fallen behind on helping my kindergartner keep up with her extremely easy homework, because after lunch I am so desperate to lay down that I push quiet time and nap time as quickly as I can instead of taking that time with her.  Baths are skipped, clean laundry piles up, crumbs stay on the floors.  Our nights are a scheduled routine that doesn't leave much time for doing anything fun, and usually end with me laying between the girls on their bunkbed so their nightly shenanigans will end quicker.  I crave peace and quiet and rest, and feel like that's what has been motivating most of my actions and emotions lately.

Perspective is something that I continually search for in my life--not to invalidate my own struggles, but as a reminder to allow them, but not wallow in them.

I rushed from my appointment to pick up Leah from kindergarten, then walked into our home to get lunch ready.  I thought about the woman from the waiting room the entire time as I served strawberries, cheese and turkey to my girls.  I gingerly walked on swollen feet into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.  The speckles on my forehead and around my eyes from the weird "pregnancy mask" that has shown up this time used to bother me.  Now I stared at those speckles and told myself they will fade soon enough, and to stop focusing so much on what doesn't matter, so I could use my energy to focus on what does.  I have hair that isn't falling out, and a body that is not at war with itself, but is instead giving everything it has (especially all of its iron) to grow a new life.

And that is a beautiful, miraculous gift.

This pregnancy is a season, and though it is wearing a times, and I have had to lean on others to do things I am normally capable of doing on my own, it is one I am strong enough to get through.  Water ballooned feet and all.

searching for silver, part 2.

{around the campfire, with no idea what was ahead for us}

after stopping for dinner and multiple potty breaks, getting lost, then being pulled over for speeding just outside of city limits (our first-ever warning ticket only! we couldn't believe our luck.)  we pulled into the campsite after dark.  the kids were bursting with excitement, and i found myself joining in as we bundled up in jackets, unpacked the car, and began to set up the tent.

a short while later, we gathered around a big campfire with the other ward members, chatting and roasting marshmallows.  caleb showed up at my side with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

"are you doing okay, bud?"  i asked, remembering the last time he drank hot chocolate while he was on the fathers & sons campout with ben just a couple of months ago.  in the middle of the night, he randomly threw up an enormous amount of liquid, covering his entire sleeping bag with a puddle of regurgitated hot chocolate and marshmallows.  it only happened once, so we figured his upset stomach was due to an overdose of sugar.  (throwing up is a common occurrence when caleb has too much many sweets)

"don't worry mom, it's only half a cup," caleb replied confidently.  we talk a lot at home about listening to our bodies and taking care of them and i let go of most of the control so he can feel confident in his decisions--and learn from his own mistakes.

for a couple of hours, things went great. the girls told us they were ready for bed around 9:00, so we set up our sleeping bags and planned on getting the kids to sleep and then joining some of our friends outside of our tents for games.  leah and caleb snuggled into their sleeping bags, laughing and talking for a few minutes before quieting down.  june however, had other plans.  she hadn't had much of a nap that day, and was overly tired and really grouchy.  after an hour she finally lay down beside me on the air mattress.  (yes, i said air mattress.  this is still considered "real camping" in my book.)

the temperature had dropped so much i could see my breath in the air and i put a third pair of flannel pants and another pair of socks on.  i looked across the row of children to find ben already asleep, huddled so far into his sleeping bag all i could see was the top of his forehead.

i settled down and just as i was drifting off to sleep, i heard caleb's voice--in a much higher pitch than normal.

"mom, my stomach hurts.  i think i'm going to throw up!"  his tone was panicky.

i jumped out of my blankets as quickly as i could without disturbing june, and frantically grabbed for the backpack i had stuck several unused garbage bags in its front pocket.  i'm no fool--we've been down this road many times before, and i came prepared.  as one hand was retrieving the garbage bags, the other was smacking ben's sleeping bag by his feet.  he sat up, his eyes squinty and confused.

i loudly whispered, "caleb's gonna barf, get up!" and ben sprang into action.  he helped caleb up while i unzipped the tent for the two of them to walk outside.  i heard caleb begin to retch and knew then, we were in for a long night.  after he had finished, we tried to give him some medicine and only a minute later, he threw that up as well.  even though he had made it in the garbage bags, there was some residual on his shirt and he needed to be changed.  his entire body was trembling from the cold as ben and i worked to quickly switch his clothing.  to warm him up, ben sat down with him in his lap and wrapped a blanket around the both of them.

"i'm so sorry you're sick, buddy," i said softly as i wiped his mouth and nose.  "and i know you're old enough to make your own choices, but i'm just going to go ahead and take the lead with this decision:  you're off of hot chocolate for the next couple of years, okay?"

he nodded with a little smile on his face.

for the next few hours, this is how they sat as caleb continued to vomit.

i was awake the whole time, but laying down across the tent next to june, who continued to stir.  i could tell she was cold, and kept trying to put more layers on her but she would irrationally thrash around and scream when i would try to help her.  the only thing she would let me do was stand and hold her wrapped in a blanket, but would wake back up again if i tried to lay her down her own.  i finally rocked her to sleep, and carefully inched my way to lay back down while still holding her.  i was hoping my body warmth would be enough to keep her comfortable, though by this time i was also trembling.  the blankets on top of us were stiff with cold, and anytime i moved, a breeze of freezing air would chill me to the bone.

i remembered i had brought essential oils, so i motioned to ben where they were and he put them on caleb, speaking calmly and encouragingly to him as he held the garbage bag near his mouth.  a few minutes later, caleb fell into a deep sleep.  ben continued to hold him and hummed songs softly as he waited to make sure caleb was okay.  once he was sure, he slowly laid him down, and climbed back into his sleeping bag.

i hugged myself around the stomach to try to find warmth and closed my eyes to go to sleep, when june woke up again, crying loudly and waking up leah.  she said she was scared, so i told her to climb up on the air mattress, on the other side of me.  she did, bringing all of her belongings with her, and i realized there was not enough room for the three of us and our piles of blankets.  june settled back down, and i tried to find a way to get comfortable, but ended up waking her up again.  this time, she was ticked.  she screamed and yelled something i couldn't understand but was positive it sounded like cursing in toddler language.  she climbed down and tried to walk, immediately falling and becoming even more enraged.  this woke up leah again, who whined loudly, saying she didn't want to sleep by me anymore.

and this was when i had had it.  vomiting children is hard enough on its own.  freezing, and having freezing children is hard enough on its own.  camping with kids is hard enough on its own.  serious sleep deprivation is hard enough on its own.  but combine all of them??  it felt like too much.

delirious with exhaustion, uncontrollably shivering from cold, and extremely frustrated with the situation, at the sound of leah's whines and june's cries (again), i said under my breath, "oh my hellllllllllllllllll,"  and it was from the heart.  then i realized we were surrounded by families from our church who could have heard me, and was embarrassed, but only for a second.  :)

i looked at the clock on my phone.  3:48 am.  i helped leah back to her original sleeping place, while ben picked up june.  i was feeling so done with this night.

then i heard it, ben's soft humming again.  i looked up to see june wrapped in his blanket, as he stood in the tent in only his thermal shirt, pajama pants and socks.  he rocked her patiently, humming several songs.  she quieted down, and he kept rocking.  i looked at my clock once more, 4:13 am.  though i was still shivering, i somehow found a way to finally drift off to sleep....

the morning sun was shining through the red fabric of the tent as i was woken to caleb's frantic pleas.  "mom, i think i'm going to throw up again!"  ben sat up at the same time as i reached for the last garbage bag we had, and held it next to caleb's mouth.  when he was finished, i wiped his face and looked at the time.  6:09 am.

ben scooted closely to me, and looking directly into both of my eyes, said with a serious tone,  "that's IT.  we're outta here."

"oh, THANK YOU!" i replied.  ben turned on the car with the heat blasting, we helped caleb in with the garbage bag, then picked up each of the girls and strapped them into their carseats.  ben told me to stay in the car to help entertain the girls and assist caleb if he needed to be while he began taking down the tent and throwing our belongings into the back of the van with a determination i hadn't seen in a long time.

within 20 minutes, we were ready to go.

we told our friends good-bye, to enjoy the warm breakfast we could smell cooking, and began our 2 1/2 hour drive back home.  within 10 minutes of leaving the campsite, leah announced she needed to go to the bathroom (yet somehow didn't when i had asked her before we left?  anyway.) so we pulled over, took out her travel potty seat and ben helped her.  while of course i took a picture.

i wanted to be in a bad mood--i really did.  it was a long, extremely arduous night.  our optimistic attitudes had definitely been deflated.

instead i forced myself to start searching for the silver lining, because i believe there always is one, in every situation no matter the difficulty.  as i thought through the details of the night, i started forming a mental list:  the vomit was contained--that was a blessing, no one else vomited, we had a car with a working heater to turn on in the morning, there were flushing toilets at the campsite, soon we would be in the comforts of our own home/shower/bed..... but through all of the positive things i could list, one stuck out more significantly to me:

"i want you to know, as awful as that experience was, my love and appreciation for you grew even deeper over the past 24 hours,"  i said aloud to ben.

"oh, really?"  he said with surprise.  "how so?"

"i watched you and was amazed, yet again, at your unending patience--sitting there with caleb and taking care of him while being so close to his vomit, talking to him kindly and keeping him warm.   then with june, doing the same thing when you were so tired, standing and rocking her while she was insane.  your patience never wore out....well, maybe this morning it did.  but in the middle of it all, you were so great at handling it.  i definitely wasn't so fabulous at this, and it made me realize how grateful i am for you.  i have several friends who married men who are not helpful with these things--saying ridiculously that it's the 'woman's job' and checking out.  thank you for not being that kind of a man, or husband, or father."

"well, you're welcome!"  he said with a small laugh.  "sooooooo....does this mean you'll go camping as a family again?"

"are you seriously asking me this right now?  seriously.  so you're delusional then.  NO.  i'm not even entertaining the idea for at least 5-7 years.  i love you, but even love has its limitations,"  i said, and we both laughed.

we happily drove the rest of the way home in the morning sunlight, talking, eating snacks, and realizing that if you search for it, you can always find the silver lining---even after a horrendous overnight camping experience.

searching for silver, part 1.

{the beginning of the end}

it's no secret that i'm not a fan of camping.

when ben and i were dating seriously, we discussed the fact that i'm a self-proclaimed 'indoor-girl', and i asked if this was something that could potentially damage our bright and shiny possible future.

{side note:  my definition of 'indoor girl' is this:

• an absolute lover of the outdoors and nature, until it requires me to:

1. sleep on anything aside from a mattress and box springs.
2. sleep/eat/live inside four walls made of material that cannot provide protection from inclement weather, dangerous 4-legged predators, or shriek-inducing creepy crawly things (when the enter/exit door is left unzipped, of course)
3. dig a hole in the wilderness, or hover over a non-flushing, fly-covered latrine, or even worse.... (cue the dry heave) asking me to "pack it out."  for any of you reading who knows what that statement means, i am so sorry.
4. sleep while sharing the same 100 ft space with my three children (whom i love and adore) because of their severe inability to sleep anywhere unless they're tucked in their own beds.  (and even then, their sleeping habits are extremely questionable)

other than those requirements?  nature and i get along quite well.  there's no place i feel closer to God than when i'm surrounded by the beauty He has created.  i just don't like to sleep, or use the bathroom there.  end of side note.}

ben thought long and hard about my question.  he was not only a self-proclaimed 'outdoor guy,' but he had actually communed with other nomads/hippies/earthlovers by joining in the "rainbow gathering" and accepting this way of life as his own, for a time.  this was who we were when we met in high school... my curly hair, overly-mascaraed eyelashes and show choir uniform vs. his poofy white-boy fro, Grateful Dead tie-dyed t-shirt, frayed jeans and ever-present hacky sack.

i told him i wouldn't stifle his love of sleeping under the stars with dirt in his teeth and the next morning's trail mix near his pillow--he was welcome to go on trips and expeditions when he pleased.  i asked the same of him, to marry me without the thought of changing me, knowing i would prefer always to sleep in a hotel, with flushing toilets and my tube of mascara waiting by the bathroom mirror.

we agreed that our love for each other and immense compatibility in other areas far out-shined this measly indoor girl vs. outdoor guy conundrum.  for the past almost 11 years, this has worked for us.  ben has found male friends and family to go on weekend explorations through slot canyons and steep mountains, while i've found girls who appreciate a night away tucked into egyptian cotton sheets and showering with small tubes of complimentary shampoo.

but then our children grew up, becoming old enough to love the idea of sleeping in a tent and eating fire-roasted marshmallows until their bellies distended with sugary goodness.  

i wrote about the last time we went camping as a family; the sleepless night and flustered morning when i handed 5 month old leah over to a stranger while i made a mad dash for the outhouse before my bladder exploded.  i still remember that moment of panic.

we hadn't been "real" camping as a family since that time, until the ward campout was announced a month ago in church, and immediately the kids begged us to go.  my instincts told me to pretend i didn't hear them, but i looked into their adorable, pleading eyes, then into the chocolate-y brown eyes of their father, and i found myself saying yes.  i knew it would be a sleepless night, but my sense of optimism took over.  i pictured dirty faces, hiking among trees together, sitting around the fire playing games...and convinced myself i could just take a nap the next day.  i wanted to be a good sport, to try again.

in the back of my mind, i knew i didn't want to be someone who always says "no" to things just because i don't love it and know it's going to be a lot of work.  how could i teach my kids to try again and do hard things, if i wasn't willing to?

knowing it was going to be cold, we packed multiple layers for each family member, and left mid-afternoon, ready for our adventure....

33.

as a kid, i loved my birthday.  the gifts, the parties, the cake, the ice cream...i remember not being able to sleep the night before, wondering what amazing-ness was held in store for the following morning.

somewhere along the way, i changed.  my birthday started causing internal anxiety as soon as the month of july began.  i didn't like being the center of attention, didn't want parties, a big cake, or loud mariachi bands singing with the restaurant crowd as i peeked sheepishly out from underneath the enormous birthday sombrero, my cheeks turning a brighter shade of red with each bold note.

i knew feeling this way kind of ruined the celebrating for those around me, and i get it--i really do, because i love celebrating birthdays of the people i'm close with.  so, i've been making a concerted effort to find the balance and have ended up with this:  low-key, spending time with people i love, doing something out of the ordinary of the "everyday," and not searching for the closest box to climb into anytime someone bursts into the happy birthday song.

last year, i did something different, reading about another's idea of the birthday kindness project and knowing immediately it was something i would love to do.  we came up with a list, splitting our random acts of kindness over 2 days, completing over 50 of them during the weekend.  i thought that what i would love most about doing this would be spending my birthday with the focus off of me, and shift it on to someone else.

instead, i realized that my perspective could change yet again.  i read each of the face book comments, blog comments, texts, listened to the voicemails...and as i neared the end of the two days of the birthday project, each new message made me cry.  my family and friends all working together to do kind things for others--regardless of what day it was--

at the end of the first day of my 32nd year, i was overwhelmed with the feeling of just how beautiful life really is.

that was an amazing way to celebrate living.

tomorrow is my 33rd birthday, and we're out of town so i didn't repeat the same project as last year, but i'm still going to do random acts of kindness for others.  it's the best way for me to lose myself--the insecurity and discomfort--altering my thoughts,  shifting my focus instead to appreciate the beauty of the details of the day,

so i can more fully celebrate this life i have been given.

cleansed.

there was a time in my life when, admittedly, i did not let myself think ahead to this day.  there was too much fear wrapped around it, and too much unknowing of what the future held in store for him.  it was a milestone like watching a first step being taken, and giving a kiss and a wave as i watched him march toward kindergarten, and seeing the gap in his smile after losing a first tooth, and all of those moments in between and after that i could not mentally or emotionally let myself believe would come to my fragile and sick baby, just in case they didn't.

but eight years later, just like those other milestones, this one came.  and we were surrounded with love, tears, and another glimpse of God demonstrating to us again just how special this boy is, because He was in the moments that made the day so beautiful.

God was there in the quiet silence and then swish of the water as it enveloped caleb's small body,  He was there in the hugs between a boy and his two parents as he dried off and dressed in his new suit and tie, and He was there in the confirmation blessing given by this boy's father, with words to bestow upon him a Gift, and to remind caleb again of his strength to not only overcome, but to be made a leader for good and holy purposes, if he chose it.  He was there in the song softly sung by caleb's little sister and grandma,  testifying of the piece of divinity that lies within him, the thread that can never be broken, because he is a Child of God.  He was there in the tears in caleb's grandpa's eyes and the promises spoken by the primary president and member of the bishopric.  He was there in the presence and hugs of loved ones who came from near and far to be there for this milestone.

 and God was there in another piece of this mother's healed heart.

these moments used to be stolen from me by fear, consumed with apprehension and what if's, but they no longer are.  as i watched my son reach the milestone of getting baptized, that fear was again replaced with intense gratitude and a love so remarkable that i felt as if i was being washed over with it from head to toe.


when caleb was cleansed, so again, was i.


it was a beautiful day.

 

a blogging duel, how marriage is a crapshoot, a look back, and my theme for 2013.

looking back into 2012, i can see it was a really great year, probably the best i've experienced in a long time.  not because things were perfect, but because somewhere along the way i came to a place of peace.  of feeling comfortable in my own skin.  finding a balance in certain areas that i've longed for and thought i would never achieve.  i feel closer to God than i ever have, and the itchiness of fear that once creeped along the edges of most of my thoughts has been scratched and settled.

my theme for 2012 was faith without fear, and it was tested many times in many different ways.  i would name them all, but it would take me hours to type and you would probably fall asleep drooling on your keyboard.

being able to write this last year...well, for me it was big.  and hard.  it was the culmination of what all of my previous semi-hard posts had led up to.  and not just my hard posts, the story behind it is what caused some of the hardest lessons i've had to learn in life.  i've wondered since i've written it, is there more to come?  more hard to dig up?  harder than that was?  i don't feel like there is, at least from the past.  getting that out, realizing where almost all of my inner struggles have stemmed from, i have been able to lay it to rest.

sometimes i'm sad about this little blog.  it's seems so....emo.  you know?  where did funny lynsey go?  is she ever coming back?  my friend told me that funny lynsey still lives on facebook, that's where her outlet is. apparently my funny side just needs only a couple of sentences to emerge nowadays, no longer dedicating to entire blog posts.  maybe it's because lately funny= surface, fun, everyday things and emo = deep and life-changing.  and i've been swimming in the deep end of the blog for a while.  well, whatever the case, this season is what it is.  and i have learned so much--through my writing, but also through responses from loved ones, friends and even strangers.

i can't thank you enough for your kindness and love.  even through the change of the past couple of years.

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i'm starting off 2013 by forcing myself to write more, whether i have the time or energy or brain capacity for it or not.  the talented and poem-y Clancy and i are having a blogging DUEL!  and my competitive side is DETERMINED TO WIN, while my non-competitive side wants to shrug and do it anyway because i love writing so much.  and it will push her to write, and i love her writing so much.  


and now, a look back on the year:

2012 was the year my marriage took a shift.  in a surprisingly hardbutgood way.  not sure how to expound on that more right now, but i do know that it has something to do with this post, and the finishing of it....when that comes.  ben and i have been extracting our unhealthy pieces, and doing our best to change the dynamics of our relationship that sprung from those pieces.  what i also know is that i have never loved or felt closer to ben than i do right now.  the shift has brought a lot of discussions, some more difficult than others...but all of them ending in a good place, with a deeper understanding than we have ever had of ourselves and each other. 

{warning:  extremely fuzzy picture ahead.  how do people take such CLEAR pictures on their phones??  i'm trying to figure it out, and failing miserably.}

so there we were, on our 10th anniversary, eating at the fanciest restaurant i have ever been to.  we felt so out of our league, but tried to play the parts of acting natural while looking at a menu with a salad that cost $18.  and the meal itself took almost 3 hours, but it was exactly what we wanted.  just time together, and an enormous bill afterward.  ha ha!

we asked each other questions, we went through our history.  man!  marriage really is kind of a crapshoot, isn't it?  i have seen the tough roads that some close to me have had to trudge through in marriage and have done my best to offer love and support as they have been drug through hell and nasty cesspools of emotional fungus.  but i haven't actually been in those cesspools, i've only seen them from the sidelines.

at 22 i felt like i knew everything about myself and him....and at 32 i can say that i truly knew nothing back then.  how can you know how someone is going to respond when they become stressed?  or anxious?  or experience heartache that lasts longer than just the few months of dating?  pregnancy?  grad school?  hard babies?  financial struggles?  a group home of mentally unstable teens?  external family issues?  how can you know the way someone is going to treat themselves and you with the curveballs life throws?  the truth is, you can't.  you get hints of it along the way, and a general idea when you're dating.  you hope for the best.  you tell yourself that your immature love for each other will certainly conquer all.  and then you leap!  and watch married life unfold.

we talked about our gratitude, to go through so many learning curves and growing pains and feel this way about each other when we're now on the other side of some of the big ones.

in my book, it's all about trying.  not just trying to spend time together or be happy or be a good mom/dad and wife/husband, but trying in the way of being willing to look at our own selves through microscopes that show all of our ugly little pieces and hang on through them.  to not stop communicating, or showing love or doing our best to meet our own needs and then the needs of each other.  to not shut down or give up, or become complacent and uncaring.

only a few years ago, i remember patting myself on the back in congratulations.  that ben and i were one of the few couples that i knew had a really fantastic, sturdy marriage.  i thought we were unshakable because we were us.  but that pat on the back was made of a house of cards....not because we didn't have a fantastic, sturdy marriage, but because the things i built us upon were made of fluff.

i will expound more when i finish that post.  :)

but now i don't just pat us on the back, i figuratively wrap my arms around the married version of us, ten years in, through stretching and pulling and pushing, still dedicated to each other and the family we have created.  and still laughing and having fun along the way.

anyway, 2012 was the year that caleb turned 7 and learned to whistle and finally {FINALLY} has his first loose tooth {STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND CHEER RIGHT! NOW!}  it was one of the first years that medically, he has thrived.  and that blessing has not gone unnoticed in my book.

it was also the year where he turned a corner and {i'm sorry caleb, but it's true} kind of became...how do i say it kindly?  endearingly obnoxious.  rumor has it, this stage end around 12, when he becomes a more obnoxious teenager...but we will love him through it.  plus the good qualities of him are still heavily outweighing the...need i say it again?  obnoxious qualities.  

he wants so much to be grown up, and smarter/stronger/faster/bigger/funnier than he is.  he wants to be an adult and for life to be fair, and i have told him to get used to being disappointed about that one on a regular basis.  he does amazingly well in school both academically and socially.  another blessing.

he has been an amazing, gentle, kind and funny older brother to june.  the two of them get along so well.  which constantly makes me wonder why he has continued to bump heads with leah, because i know he has it in him to get along with a younger sister.  he wants so much to control leah and she refuses it.  but in the past couple of months i've seen them turn a corner in the way they are interacting and treating each other.  he really has been an amazing example of a big brother.  he is honest, and sensitive and really tries to do what's right.

he is a reflection of both the best and worst pieces of me as a mother.  and so far, i say we're both doing alright.

the year of leah as a 3 year old has been one of the most fun so far as a mother.  

she is bright and silly and beautiful and kind and most of all....imaginative.  caleb only had a small slice of what she has been given in imagination and i love to just quietly watch her as she creates animals and friends out of anything and nothing.

but the struggle has arrived as she has pretty much thrown in the towel when it comes to sleeping through the night, and i have resigned myself to letting her come in at some point in the wee hours of the morning and sleep in my floor.  i just don't have it in me anymore--i feel like i have tried it ALL, and she stays quiet so it's better than what we've had to work with in the past.  

she has a stubborn streak and a sassy side and is constantly testing me to make sure i will hold the line and boundaries i have set. and she flies off of the handle when she's in a mood and i hold the line, but in the end it calms her because she nows what to expect.  when i make exceptions to rules or consequences, she becomes confused and doesn't like it.  

for leah, the line between truth and un-truth is kind of blurred.  i don't really think it's a conscious or sneaky thing {yet}, but because her mind seriously creates situations to be her reality.  and luckily so far, it's been an extremely hilarious thing to witness.

leah is such a good girl who really loves to be loved, and june has definitely tested her patience in this area, because she gets the brunt of june's newly acquired temper.  but she is slow to react, which i'm grateful for.  {caleb could take a page out of her book here.}  and i have a feeling that the girls may butt heads some times, but are going to grow up to be really great friends.

leah is the child that i need to plan ahead at least 10 minutes before going anywhere, because whenever i say the words "we need to go!  get in the car!"  she wanders around looking for a random toy to bring......or her drink.....or suddenly needs to go potty.....or can't find her shoes.  this honestly used to frustrate me because it put a very big cramp on my leave-things-to-the-last-minute style, but i have learned to work within who she is.  and instead of becoming increasingly frustrated, i do my best now to give her ample time to prepare for whatever journey it is she thinks we're going on.

she still has her adorable listhp, a huge vocabulary, and absolutely loves preschool.  she's a social girl, that's for sure.  2012 was the year we had the joy of finding "my little pony" on netflix and our lives have never been the same.  woah boy!  and her serious obsession with dolphins hasn't died down in the least....visiting seaworld was a dream come true for her.  

and then that leaves us with june of 2012.

june has evolved from the sweetest, calmest baby to a quirky, snuggly, shrieking, independent busy-body of a toddler.  i've lost track of all of the words she knows now, it feels like every day she's picking up a new one...or three.  she counts to five, sings and says prayers with a lot of mumbling softly and then ending them with a lot of gusto in the big finish, "ABEEEE!"  and she prays even if it's not her turn, looking around every time she yells/ends her prayer, wondering why people are quietly snickering with their bowed heads instead of looking up and cheering.

she is extremely attached to me, and i have love/hate feelings about this.  i can drop her off easily at other places as long as there are kids & toys around and she doesn't bat an eyelash--until i come to pick her up, then she acts like she hasn't seen me in years and WHY DID I ABANDON HER??  poor girl.  but when baby-sitters show up at our house, or when she sees me putting on shoes and grabbing keys, she freaks out with a capital F.  it's super fun!  

i love that she loves me though, she is constantly giving me hugs and kisses and when i pick her up, she wraps her arms and legs around me like a little monkey and holds on tightly, saying over and over "mama, mama, mama" with an enormous smile on her face.  

she is still obsessed with baths and it's a good thing, because she has said good-bye to the days of sitting in a high chair, letting someone feed her.  not kidding, if i try to give her a bite of anything she refuses it.  if i pop the same bite onto a fork and hand it to her....in it goes. 

the times when i do need to feed her, whether it's because we're late or i don't have the ability to deal with the aftermath of a mess, she shrieks and cries and twists and turns until i finally have to satiate her with a baby einstein show, or her favorite....pocoyo.  she started saying "COCOYO!" a couple of months ago, and yells it anytime we turn it on.  

and as much as she is joined at the hip with me, this little girl doesn't adore anyone more than her dad.

she is thoughtful about things, picking them up and quietly turning them over and over.  she explores everything about every page on a book.  she is extremely ticklish.  she loves music and sings...duets with her are the best, and usually happen when i'm taking a shower and she's staring at me through the glass, two inches away.  she's continued to remain my healthiest child so far and i was kind of hoping for least emotional child, but the jury is still out on that one.  oy.

2012 turned this baby into a toddler, i can't believe what she looked like at the beginning of last year, and here she is now, the same eyes staring back at me, with a mop of unruly hair and a mouth with teeth and swollen gums waiting to pop through some more.


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well, if you made it to the end of this extremely looooong look back on last year, i applaud you.  instead of picking a word for 2013, i have picked a theme:

out of my comfort zone.

and as much as i feel like it's what i need, it's not exactly what i want.  but i've been feeling that since i've reached a big milestone when it's come to letting go of fear and actually liking who i am, now i need to push myself.  

whether it's to meet new friends, or volunteer somewhere, or sing in front of a crowd, or shave my head...

who knows.  

but i have a feeling it's going to be hard, and really really good for me.

so buckle up!!

and a belated happy new year!!  

love, us