Five-Minute Friday: Small

Five minutes of thinking out loud - misspellings and mistakes included.  That's what I love about Five-Minute Friday!  Click over here to learn more!

Several years ago I had surgery on my left ear.  A tiny sliver of a bone in the middle ear had calcified, causeing hearing loss.  It was replaced with a small titanium prosthetic.  My hearing improved by 30% in that ear.  Trust me.  I noticed the difference. 

Small makes a big difference.  Think about the paper cut on your finger, or the pebble in your shoe.  Think about the millions of tiny cells that hold our bodies togehter.

Small can be life changing.  Just look at the tiny person you rock to sleep night after night.

I have been guilty of doing nothing because I felt what I had to offer was too small.  It's either all or nothing.
 
Today, I am counting the small:

A random text from my boy to tell me he loves me
Driving my girl to the bus stop so she didn't have to stand out in the cold
A text from Scotty telling me he's thinking about me
A dash of salt
A dap of lip gloss and cute earrings

Count with me?  What small things make a difference to you?

- Liv

A Love Story (Part 1)

"...try to write in a way that scares you a little."  - Holley Gerth

This is the first of a series of posts about our marriage.  Writing about this scares me - mostly because I want to come across as honestly as possible, without making the assumption that my story is any more important than anyone else's.  And how honest is too honest?  I don't know.  I just know that we all have a story and maybe the telling of it is more important for the writer than for the reader.  And maybe the reader can relate.  Or maybe others need permission to tell their story too.  So, here goes...

Next week Scotty and I will be married for twenty-one years.  That's a lot of time to learn about each other.  A lot of time to hurt one another.  Deeply.  We have done plenty of that in our marriage.  Enough so that, a few years ago, neither of us was sure if we were going to make it.  We always said it would never be an option, but at the time, the 'D' word seemed a whole lot easier than the turmoil we were living in.  The death of a marriage is often subtle and slow.  Our troubles were a long time comin'.

I was a child bride.  Saying it makes me cringe a little inside.  I had no idea how marrying so young would affect me as I became an adult.

We got married on a cold Sunday on February 28, 1993.  I was 16, in love, and happier than words can say.  I was not forced into it.  It was my choice - a choice I was too young to make.  That being said, I am so thankful that it was Scotty.  As my daughter nears the same age, I can't help but wonder how the adults around me were okay with it.  I cannot imagine allowing my little girl to make such a grown up choice at a time in her life when she is still trying to figure out who she is.

We met at church.  It was just after my 16th birthday in June.  He was in the military and had just been recently stationed at our local base.  My first impression of him?  I thought he was sort of nerdy!  But he was the nicest guy I had ever met.  A group of us would often go to a restaurant after Bible study and Scotty and I would end up talking the whole time.  We talked about his time in Germany, about our families, about God.  I learned that he was the youngest of six children.  He loved Cherry Coke and he was a fairly new Christian.  A few months later, after receiving my dad's approval, Scotty asked me to date him.  He made it clear that his intention was courtship and marriage.

We went to PoFolks for our first real date.  I told my best friend that I hoped he wouldn't wear his suspenders and hiking boots.  Like really.  I'm talking Napolean Dynamite shoes.  Don't you know he wore exactly that?  Yup.  Stone-washed jeans with the knees busted out, a flannel shirt, suspenders and Napolean Dynamite shoes.  Both the suspenders and the shoes "mysteriously" disappeared after we were married *wink*!  We talked about our hopes for the future over chicken fried steak and soda in mason jars.   

Things moved very quickly.  We began dating in November - the week before Thanksgiving, and were engaged before Christmas.  Scotty gathered my family and friends in the middle of my parent's living room, got down on one knee and said, "Olivia Christine, will you marry me and promise to serve God with me for the rest of our lives?"  I beamed as I said yes and he slid a ring on my finger. 

Our courtship and marriage three months later were quite a scandal, I am sure.  Some of my peers asked me how I knew he was the one.  No one could have convinced me to change my mind, even if they tried, because I was confident that God had a special plan for us.  We both felt that we were called into the ministry and we were anxious to begin walking in that direction.  So I dropped out in my junior year of high school.  I dropped out of high school to get married because God had a call on my life?!  I realize the absurdity of it, even as I type it out.  The school counselor asked me if I was pregnant as I filled out the paperwork to un-enroll.  I wasn't.  I was saving myself for our wedding day.

Here is where I look back and marvel at the grace of God.  First of all, that Scotty did not turn out to be some psychopath (sorry, Babe), but also that I fell into married life very easily.  In fact, I loved it.  I enjoyed making our little apartment feel like a home.  I woke up early to make breakfast and pack Scotty's lunch before kissing him off to work.  I waited anxiously for him to return home, dinner ready to be served.  I read books on being the Proverbs 31 woman.  I felt the need to prove that I was a mature and capable wife, no matter my age.

Scotty left the military and we dove into ministry.  We were both in bands for a coffee-house type music scene our church put on every Saturday night.  Scotty led worship, oversaw the Saturday night music scenes and was on the pastoral council.  I was the nursery coordinator and church book keeper.  We were all that.  Or so we thought.  We were on our way to becoming pastors one day.

Our son, Taylor was born when I was 19.  He was the most adorable, smiley, bald baby boy ever.  Two and a half years later, Celine came along.  She was tiny and graceful and beautiful.  I was 21.  I loved being a mom and was happy with my life and our little family.  Scotty had a good job and I was able to stay home with the kids.  We laughed in the face of the statistics that said one in three teen marriages would end in divorce.  It seemed our lives were going exactly as planned.

We make our own plans but the Lord decides where we will go.         Psalm 16:9 CEV

 We could never have imagined what was next for us.

Five Minute Friday: Write

I've been typing words on this space for less than a year.  I still find myself amazed with every 'like', share or comment.  I am amazed that you have come back to read more of what I have to say. 

There's all these words jumbled up in my head and writing, for me, is a way to organize them.  It's like clearing off a cluttered desk.

I don't have a lot of answers.  I definitely don't have a corner on faith or motherhood or marriage.  But I do have a lot on my mind  and I am just so grateful that you would stick around for me to share it with you.

There are many whose words are achingly beautiful, making mine look plain in contrast.  There is always the pause before hitting 'publish'.  Look close enough (if you are a teacher, please don't look too closely!) and you will find many flaws.  There is always, will they like it?  Is it silly or stupid?  Does it make sense?  Why is what I have to say any more important than what anyone else has to say? 

You also have something to say.  Do what you do to say it.  Paint it.  Sing it.  Write it. 

-Liv

Just five minutes.  Mistakes and all included.  Find more at lisajobaker.com.

The one where I DIDN'T bite my husband's head off ...

 This morning was rough, guys.

I've switched my workouts to early mornings so I can have my evenings free to take Cel to her games and practices.  Let's just admit it.  Every morning is rough.  It's dark.  And cold.  Wah.  But today was especially difficult.  I don't know, maybe it was because I stayed up late trying to get some reading done.

Anyhow, I unraveled myself from the warm, soft, cozy blankets and stepped out into the frigid cold.  I pulled my work-out clothes on, then I proceeded to sit on the floor.  And sit.  And sit.  My eyes may have been closed while I was doing the sitting.  My tennis shoes waited expectantly next to me.  They eventually found their way to my feet and I got moving around a little bit.  Made the bed.  Washed my face.  Pulled my hair into a pony tail.  I found my way to the living room where Scotty was sipping his coffee.

Don't ask me why, but I sat on the floor again.  Since he wasn't doing anything, I felt like Scotty should know how tired I was.  So I told him.  I also told him that I didn't waaannt to worrrk ouuut.  It was a completely grown up conversation, I assure you.  This is the part where my husband got brave.  Reeaally brave.  He stood up and pulled me to my feet.  After a hug (smart guy) he pushed me toward the dungeon where the evil treadmill lives.  "You know you want to - get in there," He said.  Because after aaaall these years he knows me.  He knows that, although my flesh was weak, my spirit was willing and I would regret not doing it.  He also knew it was a risky move because, depending on the day, I very well could have bit his head off.  You know, with one of those "you think I'm fat" remarks and then a week of the silent treatment and probably a month of "don't touch me".

So this story has a happy ending because he said it and I was the mature woman I always am (...what?) and accepted his prompting as an encouragement and not an insult.  And I got my morning run in.  All is well.

We will be celebrating 21 years of marriage this month.  With Valentine's Day coming up and all, I thought it would be a good time to share some of our story.  Stay tuned!

- Liv

Five Minute Friday: Hero

Five minutes.  Shrugging off perfection.  No editing - just thinking out loud.  I'm linking up with other bloggers over at lisajobaker.com. 

This is my nephew.

He loves super heroes.  All of them.

Iron Man.

Spider Man.

Buzz Lightyear.

His daddy.

He totally thinks he's a super hero too.  He believes he can fly ... and "don't touch my wasers - they're dangewous"!

I believe in super heroes too.  Except they don't wear capes and stretchy pants ... or maybe they do, I don't know!  Hopefully only to the gym!  Anyway, you know what I mean! 

The thing about heroes is that most of them don't know they are.  You know how on the news when somebody has rescued a drowning child or helped someone out of a burning building?  When told they are a hero they often say, I just did what anyone would have done. 

I know a lot of people like that.  They don't feel like heroes.  They are just doing what has to be done. Every day.

I think of the friend who cared for her mom with Alzheimer's for five years.  And the one who is a full time caregiver to a husband who is disabled from military service and is struggling with PTSD. Heroes.

There is the single mom who moved heaven and earth to remove herself and her children from an abusive relationship.  She works hard to provide for them and to keep them healthy and safe.

I have many friends who hold down the home front while their husbands are serving our country in the military or doing contract work around the world.  I have no words for how much I respect them.

I have a nurse friend who helped me make a good decision about my daughters health.  And the youth leaders who have loved and mentored and prayed alongside with me for my children.  Heroes.

And if you are a mother, YOU are my hero.  You home school ... or work outside of the home ... or  go to school yourself.  ALL while you take your children to their activities, go to parent/teacher conferences, doctors appointments, band concerts.  You break up fights, clean throw up, rub tummies, pray, cry, discipline, love and raise little people to become big people who are kind and responsible.

You are doing what has to be done.  And it is important work.  It is significant.  

So in case you have forgotten that you are super, this is me reminding you that you are a hero and I believe in you.  Keep hero-ing on!

-Liv

Hope and a Future

 

A piece of my heart hopped on a bus and headed to Colorado last weekend.

Off to have big adventures of his own. Far away from me. 

I remember sending him off to school on a big yellow school bus and shaking my head at how quickly he grew.   He was so big and brave and excited.  I prayed for his safety and that he would make friends easily.  I wanted him to succeed and I wanted his teacher to see what a funny and bright kid he was.  I teared up as the bus pulled away, a mixture of pride and sadness that the baby days were over.  He was growing up and would need me a little less as he gained his independence as a big kid.

This time wasn't much different.

Except it was.

Because this time I knew that it would be a long time before I would see him again.  I began to pray for his safety and guidance since I first knew he was leaving.  There is nothing I want more than for him to know and follow God.  I want for him to be blessed with wonderful friendships.  I want him to succeed and I want the world to know what a funny and bright young man he is.

I cried as the bus pulled away from the station, taking my son away to begin his future.  I am proud of the young man we have raised and of his sense of adventure.  He has the ability to dream big and to create.  He is going to make his way and he is going to be alright.  And so am I. 

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 hope and a future. -Jeremiah 29:11

-Liv

In Real Life

Eeep!  I'm so excited!  Registration for the (in)RL conference opens today!  And it's free!

The (in) stands for (in)courage, which is a place where you can put your feet up and hear from other women who share their stories of the every day, nitty gritty of marriage and motherhood and life.  The RL stands for "real life".  (In)RL brings all the content to you, where readers can come together to get to know one another and share stories "in real life", beyond the blog post or comment box. 

Watch the trailer HERE

Registration (click here) is easy and they will even help you find a Meetup (a place where (in)RL is being hosted) in your area.

If you are in the area, I would love to have you!  You can RSVP here.  We will have coffee (of course!) and just a nice time getting to know one another.  Now would be a perfect time to click on over here to get to know the women of (in)courage and some of the ladies who will be sharing for the conference.

These women have encouraged and inspired me through their blogs over the past few years.  They are women just like you and me.  They raise kids.  Some work outside of the home.  Some home-school.  They all fight to juggle it all too. They argue with their spouses and have exasperating days with their children.  Sometimes they blow it.  They are real and imperfect and beautiful.  And they are sharing their stories with us.
 
I hope you will join in!

Five-Minute Friday: See

I've lived in Arizona my whole life but I have never been to the Grand Canyon.  The pictures I've seen are beautiful.  Everyone I know who has been there says that the pictures don't do it justice.  You just have to be there.  I won't know it's true awesomeness or feel that same sense of wonder until I see it myself.

Photo Credit

I went on a missions trip to Jamaica once.  We were working at a children's home that sits at the top of the Blue Mountains.  I will never forget the refreshing mountain air, cool and pure.  Birds of Paradise, ferns, Hibiscus and other unfamiliar tropical flowers lined the mountains ledge.  Beyond was the city of Kingston, and beyond still, the ocean.  The colors of water and sky blended in the distance and it was hard to tell where the water ended and the sky began.  Each evening, billowing clouds would roll by and the sky was set ablaze with a radiant sunset.  Unless you have made the winding fourteen mile trek up that mountain, you will not fully know what I mean in spite of my best attempt at describing it.  You have to see it for yourself.

 

I feel the same way about God and grace.  I wish I could paint with words in a way that you can see and understand who He is.  But words are not enough.  A person cannot fully know the beauty and feel the awe of who God is unless they have experienced Him for themselves. I want others to know grace for more than just a word.  If you don't know God, can I invite you to taste and see that the Lord is good (Psalm 34:8)?  If you haven't experienced His grace, can I invite you to come a little closer and get to know Him better?  And when you have, then you will understand this awe and this love that I feel for an amazing God.  Then you will see exactly what I mean.

I've joined other writers for Five-Minute Friday at lisajobaker.com

Resolve

 

We are one week into the New Year - often about the time my new resolve starts to fall apart.  This year My brother, Grabe (Gabe) and sister, Mocha (Monica) were visiting, and the five of us were children again -  loud and teasing and harassing one another.  We were complete.

We cooked together and played Uno and Take Two and talked and laughed about things that only makes sense to five kids who grew up in the same house.  There was no time for grown-up stuff like reflecting on the past year and making goals for 2014.  And it's a good thing too, because 2014 hasn't started off well in the would-be goal department.  My mom and sisters and I made a WHOLE BUNCH of cookies. Honey cookies to be exact. ... and we ate them.  ALL.  We did, however go for a run together BEFORE we baked, so it's totally OK, right?

I also caught something yucky from an unnamed individual, so any goal of getting back to working out consistently hasn't started off well either.  Looks like I will be carrying the a fore mentioned cookies with me a bit longer.  Not only that, but since I have been feeling ick, my house also looks ick.  The Christmas tree is still up and shedding.  I fear that if I so much as breathe at it, all the needles will fall into a pokey pile and nothing will be left but branches.

There are of course things that I am hoping to accomplish this year.  I do want to be more intentional about the important things.  I am not one who scoffs at making New Year's resolutions.  I am a list maker, after all, and I do like to make goals.  I just want to have goals ... with grace.  I am mostly very hard on myself when I don't feel I'm measuring up.  My recent mantra has been to do what I can, when I can, with what I have.  I also am trying to learn to hold my plans loosely, but by all means, have a plan or nothing will get done!

My usual goals for the New Year probably look a lot like yours.  Manage my time better, find a good routine for keeping the house clean, lose weight, etc. They are pretty much the same every year.  I've noticed something, though.  I have spent a lot of time beating myself up for not sticking with my resolutions, when it didn't always have so much to do with my resolve as it did with the season of life I was in.  When the kids were small I felt like I was falling short when it came to housekeeping and exercise.  Of course I was!  Sleepless nights and littles will do that to you!  Seems to me I've had my self expectations in the wrong place.  Since the kids are older I feel that I have a decent routine that keeps the house clean most of the time.  Scotty helps out a lot.  I am blessed in that way.  But we've been married for over 20 years.  It's taken us a long time to find something that works.  Sort of.  Most of the time. 

We are all learning as we go along.  When I was a little girl I thought one day when I was older, like 20 I would just know everything and be a proper adult. Ha!  I'm never gonna have it all together.  I will have times when I am doing well in the exercising department and then I'll get sick or get busy and I'll have to start over again.  Grace.  I will have times when I will follow my housekeeping routine and plan menus and make dinner most nights.  And then I'll have PMS or get reeled in by a TV series and I'll fall behind on it all.  Grace.  There will be great times with family and we will make memories and make it a point to spend time together.  And then schedules will change and we will put other things first.  Grace.  There is always Grace.  Let's not make it "all or nothing".  So this is what I'm preaching to myself: continue to pick yourself back up, renew your resolve on January 8th or June 1, or whatever day it may be.  Do what you can, when you can, with what you have.  Keep falling forward and continue to fight for what is important to you. 

Five-Minute Friday: Fight

Starting off the New Year with Lisa-Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday!



This year I want to fight.

Knock-out. Drag down. FIGHT.  Kicking and screaming. 

I WANT TO FIGHT FOR WHAT IS IMPORTANT TO ME.

And maybe I have fought my whole life.  But I want to be more intentional about it, because I only get to do this life once and I am tired of just doing what I have to do over what I want to do. 

I have to go to work.  And cook dinner.  Ugh.  There are a lot of urgent things that need to be done.  Like paying the bills and laundry and dishes and grocery shopping. 

But what I want to do are the things that make me feel alive.  Like running and writing.  Laughing and loving and worshiping.  And all of those things are part of my life now,

BUT I WANT MORE.

More time to do what I love.  It is a struggle to make time to read and write.  Sometimes I'm just too tired to think or to articulate and sort the knotted ball of thread that tangles all of these thoughts up in my head.  And it's a struggle to get up on these cold, dark mornings to run.

More of God.  I want my times with Him to be more intimate.  I want my relationship with Him to be more than behaving, because I have learned to do that well.  I already know how to do church and how to do good.  I want to accept His invitation to know His constant peace and presence over the striving to meet expectations - mostly the ones I hold over myself.  And I want to fight to stay alive and awake to the everyday graces He has given me.

I want to fight for my children and my family.  To say no to good things so that I can have what I want: MORE TIME FOR MY FAMILY.  Time to tell my son how proud I am to be his mom and to teach my daughter about love and life and God.  Time to tell my mom how much I appreciate her and time to make more memories.

And I want to fight for Scotty.  I want to be the one person in his life who will love him unconditionally.   We have fought too many battles to just get comfortable and allow our marriage to be crippled by 'just ordinary'.   I love this song by Warren Barfield.

"Love is not a fight, but it's something worth fighting for."

Scotty has been and always will be worth fighting for.

I understand that these here are fighting words because anything worth having is going to take hard work.  And it's worth the fight to stay awake and to live alive and to stay in love.

What about you?   What are you fighting for?

Wonder

It sits under the tree, beautiful, unopened, new.  A gift holds wonder and hope of good things wrapped up inside.  The familiar scent of pine triggers memories of Christmas's past. The photos remind us of how time marches on as children grow from year to year.  Rolls of gift wrap lean against the wall, all silvery and red and white.

Gingerbread cookies with Red Hots buttons and pink frosting smiles sit on the counter.  Carols play endlessly as we go the extra mile to create an ambiance of the season with soft slippers, fires lit in the fire place and a warm cup of something.

 

There have been concerts and parades and parties; too many cookies and maybe a few extra pounds. 

   

 

Christmas cards have been mailed. Anticipation mounts at the thought of gathering with loved ones and the joy on faces as gifts are opened.  It all really is magical.

 

 

And then, there.  

Beautifully displayed, but perhaps easily forgotten, waits the Nativity. 

It sits plain and peaceful and calm in stark contrast to the lights and tinsel.  And isn't that what the gospel is?  Simple and beautiful.  It's the love story that began in the garden and continues even now, weaving our names right into it.  What a wondrous and humbling thought!  Wonder.  What is it and how do I get it?

Wonder is the thought that the God of the universe went to great lengths to make a way that I can know Him.  And so you can know Him.  And truly, I am in awe ... when I slow enough to acknowledge it.  That a King left splendor to be born in the most unlikely of places - a barn in Bethlehem.  The wonder of Christmas is Emmanuel.  God is with us.  Love came down to meet us. Here.  Where we are. This is the Gift that has been prepared for us since creation.   

"Wonder and worship can only grow out of smallness ... When I stand before immensity that heightens my smallness, I have never felt sadness.  Only burgeoning wonder. - Ann Voskamp, The Greatest Gift

Jesse Tree

So, as we enjoy the glitter and twinkle and celebration, let's slow in the next few days to marvel at the greatest gift of Christmas.  Let's not let this Christmas pass without preaching the gospel to ourselves - just listen to the words of the carols we sing:

O Come, Emmanuel
Joy to the World
O Holy Night 
The First Noel

Let's let the true Gift of Christmas cause us to wonder and worship.  O come let us adore Him.

Wishing you and your families a Merry Christmas.

Love, Liv 

Defiance

I am looking forward to very special times with friends and family this month.  The calendar is filled with plans and parties.  Our home will soon be lit up with the glow of Christmas lights and candles and the scent of spices and cookies.  All of these things are part of what make the season special and I plan to fully enjoy the festivities!

BUT...

I defy the rushing and stress and trying to cram as much Christmas as possible into 25 short days, while driving myself and my family crazy.

Here are eight ways I am being intentionally defiant against the maddening pace of the season:

1) THIS Advent devotional:

The Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp

"This, this, is the love story that's been coming for you since the beginning. It is possible for you to miss it.  To brush past it, to rush through it, to not see how it comes for you up over the edges of everything, quiet and unassuming and miraculous--how every page of the Word has been writing it, reaching for you, coming for you."

2) Hold my plans loosely.  I like my lists.  I love feeling organized ... but life happens.  I need to learn to let  my lists be a tool and not a task master.  How often have I become stressed and angry because things didn't go as planned?

3) Only say yes to what I want to.  What is most important to me?

4) Feeling rushed is what makes me stress.  I REFUSE TO RUSH. 

5) The four gift rule (not including stockings)

 

 

6) Rest days scheduled on my calendar

7) Intentionally taking moments to enjoy my favorite things of the season:

    My family

    Friendship

    A warm cup of something

    Candle light

    Christmas Carols

    The fire place

    Cookies

    Fuzzy slippers

    The Nutcracker

Gingerbread men

8) Last and most important:  remembering that it's not about me.  I want to notice the seemingly insignificant.  The needy.  The broken.  The unlovable.  I want to find the beauty in the messy. 

How will you defy the manic pace of the season? 

Wishing you lots of moments of rest and wonder!

Love, Liv

Contentment.

I couldn't be more content.

The bread is rising and the pumpkin pie is cooling on the counter.  I sit here and inhale the spiced pumpkin scent.  Mmmm ... deliciousness.

Taylor is here.  I offered him a hot bowl of potato soup as soon as he walked in the door.  Funny how happy I was that he accepted.  You know how on TV the moms are always trying to feed their adult children?  I think I get it now.  It's one small way that I can still care for him, now that he is on his own.  I hope that his hunger for food and family will always lead him back home.

We've settled in the living room to watch a movie.  Taylor is sprawled out on the floor and Celine is snuggled in between me and Scotty.  They are sipping hot chocolate and dipping biscotti.  Tomorrow we will eat too much and celebrate with family who is near and we will miss the family members who are too far away.  But for tonight it is just the four of us again.  And my heart is overflowing.  We are beyond blessed.

-Liv

Wishing you a Thanksgiving filled with family and pumpkin pie and the things you love most. 

 

Five-Minute Friday: Fly

Because on some Fridays you can't even find five minutes and your sick on Saturday, so then it turns into last-minute Sunday.  I'm linking up with other writers at Lisa Jo's for a few minutes of writing without worrying about perfection.

 



The week flew by. The line of check marks running down my to-do list gave me a sense of control and left me feeling productive.  Why is it that busyness does that to us?  We feel better about ourselves when we are doing, doing, doing.

Saturday morning came with plans of finally pulling those weeds out of the flower bed.  I awoke to rain and a migraine headache.  I quickly texted my sister to ask her what I should do, because big sisters know about these things.  Her text came back.  Rest.

My idea of rest is curling up with a cup of coffee, a good book and my journal.  When did I last make time for that?  Instead, all I could do was draw the curtains closed and lie on the couch with my sunglasses on and a blanket over my head. 

I lay there frustrated as I thought about all the things I needed to get done.  I began to think about what I needed to do to prepare for Thanksgiving dinner.  And then I started going through the Christmas lists.  So much to do.  And all I could do is lay there.  And rest. 

 

 

Then the thought occurred to me about how quickly the most wonderful time of the year flies by.  What a shame it would be to get so caught up in the hustle and bustle that I miss the wonder of it all.  Let's remind each other to not allow the holidays to become a headache.  Let's take moments to pause and rest in the reason for it all.  Emmanuel.  God with us.  Right here.  Right now.  In this moment.  Don't miss it.

Run away with me...

WE DID IT!  Thirteen point one miles!

Scotty and I had way too much fun this past weekend, doing "our thing"!

"Carbing it up" at Oregano's the night before. Yum!

We woke up way too early, but it was so beautiful watching the sun make it's way across the mountains.  It was a cool morning and we had to keep moving to stay warm while we waited for the race to start. 

I love running to such gorgeous views! 

The roads were a bit rough and I twisted my ankle at mile 7.  I was so frustrated to lose time while the first-aid crew iced and wrapped my ankle. Now I know how Scotty feels when we travel and have to stop for snacks while all the cars we've just passed drive by!  I was relieved to be able to finish the race and still beat my previous 1/2 marathon time! 

Scotty finished in 2 hours and 7 minutes. I'm so proud of him!

I came in at 2 hours and 13 minutes. 

 

Thanks for letting me share our adventure!  I'm sitting out for a bit while my ankle heals, but can't wait to be back out and running!    

 

 

I also have to say how proud I am of my sister, Monica.  She ran a total of 16.3 miles this past weekend in a Ragnar race in Las Vegas.  It sounds like fun!  Twelve people; two vans; two days; a combined total of 200 miles!  Sounds like something I'm going to have to look in to! 

 

That's her in Super Girl mode!

 

Like to run?  Click here to view my other posts on running!